310 



P. Whalley— Translations from Mahhfi. 

 No. II. 



C^^u/o &ls**> CUs^ J&4 poU li^j 



jU L-^-^J^ ,j&Co U*^*° UU** yJ^J 



5%e Dervish's Bevel. 



[No. 3, 



u — 



yj KJ yj yj 



KJ KJ 



Wine we drink. Take not the cup but from the hand frenzied with wine. 

 Brothers all, gather ye close. Sympathy breeds fury divine. 



Here beside table and door, tumbled about, strew we the floor. 

 Fill the glass, soberer host, drench us again drunk to the core. 



Gard'ner mine ! tease not the coy moon with thy prayers, dark tho' the night, 

 Light enough,— as from a lamp, gleams from the eye drunkenly bright. 



Here before lords of the brain, why and till when, foolishly vain, 

 Sett'st thou forth, crown of the feast, drunkard, thy soft ebriate strain ? 



Laughing thro' tears sprinkle we aye salt on the soul bleeding and bare, ' 

 Salted cakes are for the strayed, wandering, and lost, wholesomest fare. 



We amid wassail and wine chronicle truths, holy and sad : 



Let us be,— wisely we seek friends among rakes, drunken and mad. 



Mte.-See Brown's Derveshes, p. 224. "Their exercises consist, like those of 

 the Knfa'ees and other Orders, at first in seating themselves, and afterwards in rising 



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