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HAFIZ IN LONDON


Printed by
Spottiswoode and Co., New-Street Square
London


HAFIZ IN LONDON

by

JUSTIN HUNTLY McCARTHY, M.P.


  ﺍﻛﺮ ﺑﺰﻟﻒ ﺫﺭﺍﺯ ﺗﻮ ﺩﺳﻦ ﻣﺎ ﻧﺮ ﺳﺪ‏
  ﻛﻨﺎﻩ ﺑﺨﺖ ﭘﺮﻳﺸﺎﻥ ﻭ ﺩﺳﺖ ﻛﻮﺗﻪ ﻣﺎﺳﺖ‏







London
Chatto & Windus, Piccadilly
1886

[The right of translation is reserved]




_DEDICATION._


  Ferangis, at thy feet I lay
    These roses from the haunted coast
    Of Faristan, whose poets boast
  Their Rocknabad and Mosellay;
  For I was in Shiraz to-day,
    With ancient Hafiz for my host,
    Who, like a comfortable ghost,
  With Persian roses crowned my stay.
  They are thy tribute from the land
    Of Khayyam and our Khalifate,
    For on their crimson folds of fate
  A wizard ciphered with his wand
    Words which I dare not here translate,
  But you will read and understand.




_CONTENTS._


                             PAGE
  DEDICATION                    v
  HAFIZ IN LONDON               1
  MEMORY                        6
  ELD                          11
  LONG AGO                     14
  VANITY                       19
  KAIF                         21
  YOU AND I                    25
  CONSOLATION                  28
  LOTUS                        31
  PHILOSOPHY FOR OTHERS        33
  WISDOM                       36
  RENUNCIATION                 38
  AFTER RHAMAZAN               40
  LONELY                       44
  COURAGE                      47
  VINE-VISIONS                 49
  A DREAM                      52
  ATTAR OF LOVE                58
  VAULTING AMBITION            60
  A NIGHT-PIECE                62
  FALLEN ANGELS                65
  PRAISE OF WINE               67
  HAROUN ER-RASHEED’S POET     70
  GHAZEL                       74
  THE GRAVE OF OMAR-I-KHAYYAM  77
  OMAR ANSWERS                 86
  TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE




HAFIZ IN LONDON.




_HAFIZ IN LONDON._


  Hafiz in London! even so.
  For not alone by Rukni’s flow
  The ruddy Persian roses grow.

  Not only ’neath the cypress groves,
  With soul on fire the singer roves,
  And tells the laughing stars his loves.

  Here in this city--where I brood
  Beside the river’s darkling flood,
  And feed the fever in my blood

  With Eastern fancies quaintly traced
  On yellow parchment, half effaced
  In verses subtly interlaced--

  Men eat and drink, men love and die,
  Beneath this leaden London sky,
  As eastward where the hoopoos fly,

  And through the tranquil evening air
  A muezzin from the turret stair
  Summons all faithful souls to prayer.

  And we who drink the Saki’s wine
  Believe its juice no less divine
  Than filled, Hafiz, that cup of thine.

  Master and most benign of shades,
  Before thy gracious phantom fades
  To Mosellay’s enchanted glades,

  Breathe on my lips, and o’er my brain
  Some comfort for thy child, whose pain
  Strives as you strove, but strives in vain.

  When sundown sets the world on fire,
  The music of the Master’s lyre
  Deadens the ache of keen desire.

  Reading this painted Persian page,
  Where, half a lover, half a sage,
  You built your heart a golden cage,

  My fancy, skimming southern seas,
  Wanders at twilight where the breeze
  Flutters the dark pomegranate trees.

  We all are sultans in our dreams
  Of gardens where the sunlight gleams
  On fairer flowers and clearer streams;

  And thus in dreams I seek my home
  Where dim Shiraz, dome after dome,
  Smiles on the water’s silver foam;

  The dancing girls, with tinkling feet
  And many-coloured garments, beat
  Their drums adown the twisted street;

  And while the revel sways along,
  The scented, flower-crowned, laughing throng
  Seem part and parcel of thy song.

  Hafiz, night’s rebel angels sweep
 