Letters and Literary Remains of Edward Fitzgerald Edited by William Aldis Wright: In seven volumes |
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 | Letters and Literary Remains of Edward Fitzgerald |  |
Soon as the Lord of Heav'n had sprung his horse
Over horizon into the blue field,
Salámán kindled with the wine of sleep,
Mounted a barb of fire for the Maidán;
He and a troop of Princes—Kings in blood,
Kings in the kingdom-troubling tribe of beauty,
All young in years and courage, bat in hand
Gallop'd a-field, toss'd down the golden ball
And chased, so many crescent Moons a full:
And, all alike intent upon the Game,
Salámán still would carry from them all
The prize, and shouting ‘Hál!’ drive home the ball.
Over horizon into the blue field,
Salámán kindled with the wine of sleep,
Mounted a barb of fire for the Maidán;
He and a troop of Princes—Kings in blood,
Kings in the kingdom-troubling tribe of beauty,
All young in years and courage, bat in hand
221
And chased, so many crescent Moons a full:
And, all alike intent upon the Game,
Salámán still would carry from them all
The prize, and shouting ‘Hál!’ drive home the ball.
This done, Salámán bent him as a bow
To Archery—from Masters of the craft
Call'd for an unstrung bow—himself the cord
Fitted unhelpt, and nimbly with his hand
Twanging made cry, and drew it to his ear:
Then, fixing the three-feather'd fowl, discharged:
And whether aiming at the fawn a-foot,
Or bird on wing, direct his arrow flew,
Like the true Soul that cannot but go true.
To Archery—from Masters of the craft
Call'd for an unstrung bow—himself the cord
Fitted unhelpt, and nimbly with his hand
Twanging made cry, and drew it to his ear:
Then, fixing the three-feather'd fowl, discharged:
And whether aiming at the fawn a-foot,
Or bird on wing, direct his arrow flew,
Like the true Soul that cannot but go true.
| Letters and Literary Remains of Edward Fitzgerald | |