And seeming-solid walls of use
Open and flow.

Pour, Bacchus! the remembering wine;
Retrieve the loss of me and mine!

Vine for vine be antidote,

And the grape requite the lote!
Haste to cure the old despair,-
Reason in Nature's lotus drenched,
The memory of ages quenched;
Give them again to shine;
Let wine repair what this undid;
And where the infection slid,
A dazzling memory revive;
Refresh the faded tints,

Recut the aged prints,

And write my old adventures with the pen

Which on the first day drew,

Upon the tablets blue,

The dancing Pleiads and eternal men.

MEROPS

WHAT care I, so they stand the same,
Things of the heavenly mind,-
How long the power to give them name
Tarries yet behind?

Thus far to-day your favors reach,
O fair, appeasing presences!
Ye taught my lips a single speech,
And a thousand silences.

Space grants beyond his fated road
No inch to the god of day;
And copious language still bestowed
One word, no more, to say.

THE HOUSE

THERE is no architect

Can build as the Muse can;

She is skilful to select

Materials for her plan;

Slow and warily to choose

Rafters of immortal pine, Or cedar incorruptible,

Worthy her design,

She threads dark Alpine forests

Or valleys by the sea,

In many lands, with painful steps

Ere she can find a tree.

She ransacks mines and ledges
And quarries every rock,
To hew the famous adamant

For each eternal block

She lays her beams in music,

In music every one,

To the cadence of the whirling world

Which dances round the sun

That so they shall not be displaced

By lapses or y wars,

But for the love of happy souls

Outlive the newest stars.

SAADI

TREES in groves,

Kine in droves,

In ocean sport the scaly herds,
Wedge-like cleave the air the birds,
To northern lakes fly wind-borne ducks,
Browse the mountain sheep in flocks,
Men consort in camp and town,
But the poet dwells alone.

God, who gave to him the lyre,
Of all mortals the desire,

For all breathing men's behoof,
Straitly charged him, 'Sit aloof;'
Annexed a warning, poets say,
To the bright premium, —
Ever, when twain together play,
Shall the harp be dumb.

No churl, immured in cave or den;
In bower and hall

He wants them all,

Nor can dispense

With Persia for his audience;

They must give ear,

Grow red with joy and white with fear;

But he has no companion;

Come ten, or come a million,

Good Saadi dwells alone.

Be thou ware where Saadi dwells;
Wisdom of the gods is he,-
Entertain it reverently.

Gladly round that golden lamp
Sylvan deities encamp,

And simple maids and noble youth
Are welcome to the man of truth.

Most welcome they, who need him most,
They feed the spring which they exhaust;
For greater need

Draws better deed:

But, critic, spare thy vanity,
Nor show thy pompous parts,
To vex with odious subtlety
The cheerer of men's hearts.

Sad-eyed Fakirs swiftly say
Endless dirges to decay,
Never in the blaze of light
Lose the shudder of midnight;

Pale at overflowing noon

Hear wolves barking at the moon ;

In the bower of dalliance sweet
Hear the far Avenger's feet:

And shake before those awful Powers,
Who in their pride forgive not ours.
Thus the sad-eyed Fakirs preach:
Bard, when thee would Allah teach,
And lift thee to his holy mount,

He sends thee from his bitter fount
Wormwood, saying, "Go thy ways;
Drink not the Malaga of praise,'