XVI.
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he Shah ceased Counsel, and the Sage began."Oh Thou new Vintage of a Garden old,Last Blazon of the Pen of 'Let There Be,'Who read'st the Seven and Four; interpretestThe writing on the Leaves of Night and Day—Archetype of the Assembly of the World,Who hold'st the Key of Adam's Treasury—(Know thine own Dignity and slight it not,For Thou art Greater yet than all I tell)—The Mighty Hand that mix'd thy Dust inscribedThe Character of Wisdom on thy Heart;O Cleanse Thy Bosom of Material Form,And turn the Mirror of the Soul to Spirit,Until it be with Spirit all possest,Drown'd in the Light of Intellectual Truth.Oh veil thine Eyes from Mortal Paramour,And follow not her Step!—For what is She?—What is She but a Vice and a Reproach,Her very Garment-hem Pollution!For such Pollution madden not thine Eyes,Waste not thy Body's Strength, nor taint thy Soul,Nor set the Body and the Soul in Strife!Supreme is thine Original Degree,Thy Star upon the Top of Heaven; but LustWill fling it down even unto the Dust!" Quoth a Muezzin unto CrestedChanticleer—"Oh Voice of Morning,Not a Sage of all the SagesProphesies of Dawn, or startlesAt the wing of Time, like Thee.One so wise methinks were fitterPerching on the Beams of Heaven,Than with those poor Hens about him,Raking in a Heap of Dung.""And," replied the Cock, "in HeavenOnce I was; but by my EvilLust am fallen down to rakingWith my wretched Hens about meOn the Dunghill. OtherwiseI were even now in EdenWith the Bird of Paradise."
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