Son, I send thee to thy father!Comfort him! Let no sad penance,Weak delay, or thought of merit,Hold thee in the desert fastWander on through ev'ry nation,Roam abroad throughout all ages,And proclaim to e'en the meanest,That great Brama hears his cry!
1819.*-----THESE tufted branches fair
Proudly hath the Orient sprung;Who loves Hafis and knows him, he
'Tis not yet high, I can wade right well."
I thought but of: ERGO BIBAMUS'Tis one of those truly that seldom arise,
And our cravings alone claim for themselves the exchange.One faint touch of the hand, and her eyes so heavenly see I
1814.-----SONG AND STRUCTURE.
So rich in wealth, with danger far more fraught;They urged me to those lips, with rapture crown'd,Deserted me, and hurl'd me to the ground.
And in gentle cloudlets chase;To the vineleaf's safe retreat
Ne'er will the kettle be made, while they uncertainly fall.-----WHAT is the life of a man? Yet thousands are ever accustom'dFreely to talk about man,--what he has done, too, and how.Even less is a poem; yet thousands read and enjoy it,Thousands abuse it.--My friend, live and continue to rhyme!-----MERRY'S the trade of a poet; but somewhat a dear one, I fear me
"She's worthy of all love!" I cried,And pray'd that Heaven with purest bliss might greet thee,