Classic Poem

Up, for the conquering flag Of Mensour the King is come!
Glad tidings to sun and moon Of victory, sing, is come!

Fair fortune from victory's cheek Hath drawn back the veil; the full
Of justice for those who plain Of wrong-suffering is come!

The firmament plieth its course In joy, now the moon is here;
The world to its heart's desire Hath won, since the king is come.

Assured are the caravans Of knowledge and heart from thieves
That lurk by the way, now he From travel-faring is come.

Forth from the womb of the pit And up to the height of the moon,—
His jealous brothers despite,—Now Egypt's dearling is come.

To the Soufi, Antichrist-like, The infidel, say, “Consume,
“For the Mehdi, that sheltereth The Faith 'neath his wing, is come.”

Tell, Wind of the East, for love's cark, On my head, from the smoke of sighs
And the fire of the burning heart, How many a thing is come

For lack of thy face, o king, To this captive of severance
What cometh of wont to straw, On fire that they fling, is come.

Go, sleep not; for Hafiz' self To the presence-chamber of grace,
By the middle-night chant and the dawn's Prayer-offering is come.