XV*
And those who husbanded the Golden grain,
And those who flung it to the winds like Rain,
Alike to no such aureate Earth are turn’d
As, buried once, Men want dug up again.
XVI*
The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon
Turns Ashes — or it prospers; and anon,
Like Snow upon the Desert’s dusty Face,
Lighting a little hour or two — was gone.
XVII*
Think, in this batter’d Caravanserai
Whose Portals are alternate Night and Day,
How Sultán after Sultán with his Pomp
Abode his destin’d Hour, and went his way.
XVIII*
They say the Lion and the Lizard keep
The Courts where Jamshyd* gloried and drank deep:
And Bahrám,* that great Hunter — the Wild Ass
Stamps o’er his Head, but cannot break his Sleep.