Classic Poem

M UREBBA "

Hark the bulbul's lay so joyous: " Now have come the days of spring. "
Merry shows and crowds on every mead they spread a maze of spring;
There the almond-tree its silvern blossoms scatters, sprays of spring:
Drink, be gay, for soon will vanish, biding not, the days of spring.

Once again with varied flow'rets decked themselves have mead and plain;
Tents for pleasure have the blossoms raised in every rosy lane.
Who can tell, when spring hath ended, who and what may whole remain?
Drink, be gay, for soon will vanish, biding not, the days of spring.

All the alleys of the parterre filled with Ahmed's Light appear,
Verdant herbs his Comrades, tulips like his Family bright appear;
O ye People of Muhammed! times now of delight appear:
Drink, be gay, for soon will vanish, biding not, the days of spring.

Sparkling dew-drops stud the lily's leaf like sabre broad and keen;
Bent on merry gipsy-party, crowd they all the flow'ry green;
List to me, if thou desirest, these beholding, joy to glean:
Drink, be gay, for soon will vanish, biding not, the days of spring.

Rose and tulip, like to lovely maidens' cheeks, all beauteous show,
Whilst the dew-drops, like the jewels in their ears, resplendent glow;
Do not think, thyself beguiling, things will aye continue so:
Drink, be gay, for soon will vanish, biding not, the days of spring.

Rose, anemone, and tulip — these, the garden's fairest flowers —
'Midst the parterre is their blood shed 'neath the lightning-darts and showers.
Art thou wise? — then with thy comrades dear enjoy the fleeting hours:
Drink, be gay, for soon will vanish, biding not, the days of spring.

Past the moments when with sickness were the ailing herbs opprest,
When the garden's care, the rose-bud, hid its sad head in its breast;
Come is now the time when hill and rock with tulips dense are drest:
Drink, be gay, for soon will vanish, biding not, the days of spring.

Whilst each dawn the clouds are shedding jewels o'er the rosy land,
And the breath of morning's zephyr fraught with T a t a r musk is bland;
Whilst the world's fair time is present, do not thou unheeding stand:
Drink, be gay, for soon will vanish, biding not, the days of spring.

With the fragrance of the garden, so imbued the musky air,
Every dew-drop, ere it reaches earth, is turned to attar rare;
O'er the parterre spread the incense-clouds a canopy right fair;
Drink, be gay, for soon will vanish, biding not, the days of spring.

Whatsoe'er the garden boasted smote the black autumnal blast;
But, to each one justice bringing, back hath come Earth's King at last;
In his reign joyed the cup-bearer, round the call for wine is past:
Drink, be gay, for soon will vanish, biding not, the days of spring.

Ah! I fondly hope, Mes i h i , fame may to these quatrains cling;
May the worthy these four-eyebrowed beauties oft to mem'ry bring; —
Stray amongst the rosy faces, Bulbul, who so sweet dost sing;
Drink, be gay, for soon will vanish, biding not, the days of spring.