Chinese and Arabian Literature - E. Wilson - The Search For Mecca

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88 SELECTIONS FROM ARABIAN POETRY
Who, as he treads the crowded scenes,
Upon no kindred bosom leans.
Too long my foolish heart had deem'd
Mankind as virtuous as they seem'd;
The spell is broke, their faults are bare,
And now I see them as they are;
Truth from each tainted breast has flown,
And falsehood marks them all her own.
Incredulous I listen now
To every tongue, and every vow.
For still there yawns a gulf between
Those honeyed words, and what they mean;
With honest pride elate, I see
The sons of falsehood shrink from me,
As from the right line's even way
The biass'd curves deflecting stray
But what avails it to complain?
With souls like theirs reproof is vain;
If honor e'er such bosoms share
The sabre's point must fix it there.
But why exhaust life's rapid bowl.
And suck the dregs with sorrow foul,
When long ere this my youth has drain'd
Whatever zest the cup contain'd?
Why should we mount upon the wave,
And ocean's yawning horrors brave,
When we may swallow from the flask
Whate'er the wants of m.ortals ask?
Contentment's realms no fears invade.
No cares annoy, no sorrows shade.
There plac'd secure, in peace we rest,
Nor aught demand to make us blest.
While pleasure's gay fantastic bower,
The splendid pageant of an hour.
Like yonder meteor in the skies,
Flits with a breath no more to rise.
As thro' life's various walks we're led,
May prudence hover o'er our head!
May she our words, our actions guide,
Our faults correct, our secrets hide