Salaman and Absal · 13 of 32

XI

Thus day by day did Absál tempt Salámán, And by and bye her Wiles began to work. Her Eyes Narcissus stole his Sleep—their Lashes Pierc’d to his Heart—out from her Locks a Snake Bit him—and bitter, bitter on his Tongue Became the Memory of her honey Lip. He saw the Ringlet restless on her Cheek, And he too quiver’d with Desire; his Tears Turn’d Crimson from her Cheek, whose musky spot Infected all his soul with Melancholy. Love drew him from behind the Veil, where yet Withheld him better Resolution- “Oh, should the Food I long for, tasted, turn “Unwholesome, and if all my Life to come “Should sicken from one momentary Sweet!”

On the Sea-shore sat a Raven, Blind, and from the bitter Cistern Forc’d his only Drink to draw. Suddenly the Pelican Flying over Fortune’s Shadow Cast upon his Head, and calling— “Come, poor Son of Salt, and taste of Sweet, sweet Water from my Maw.” Said the Raven, “If I taste it Once, the Salt I have to live on May for ever turn to Loathing; And I sit a Bird accurst Upon the Shore to die of Thirst.”