Classic Poem

One eve, when had the Sun before her radiant beauty bright
Let down the veil of ambergris, the musky locks of night;
(Off had the royal hawk, the Sun, flown from the Orient's hand,
And lighted in the West; flocked after him the crows in flight;)
To catch the gloomy raven, Night, the fowler skilled, the Sphere,
Had shaped the new-moon like the claw of eagle, sharp to smite;
In pity at the doleful sight of sunset's crimson blood,
Its veil across the Heaven's eye had drawn the dusky Night.

*****

Sultan of Rome! Khusrev of the Horizons! B a yez i d!
King of the Epoch! Sovereign! and Centre of all Right!
The tablet of his heart doth all th' affairs of earth disclose;
And eloquent as page of book the words he doth indite.
O Sh a h! I'm he who, 'midst th' assembly where thy praise is sung,
Will, rebeck-like, a thousand notes upon one cord recite.
'Tis meet perfection through thy name to my poor words should come,
As to rosewater perfume sweet is brought by sunbeam's light.