Beneath a fragile lid,
And ardent clutch will spill it."

"Ay," cried the Rajah, "I like the counsel of the flowers.

Obeissance to the blast
Make, mock when it is past,
And rise like a washen rose, deliciously,
Forgetful of sorrow,
Unheeding the morrow,
And meeting all destinies, mad, merrily;
If Life be a flower, 'tis fairest of all
If for it you fear fortune's pitiless thrall,
With the Tulip's proud beauty
Its wisdom combine,
And bear to the contest
A goblet of wine!"

"Ah," sighed the pensive one, "but the flower is the poppy, for he who
possesses it presently falls asleep."

But his gentle conceit was unheard, for Nawab Khan related a story.

"One sought," said he, "the cave where dwelt a holy hermit of great
reputation for wisdom and learning. He sate him down before the
entrance, and listened with patience and fortitude to the grave and
weighty saws which like bats increase in darkness. Having presently
earned the right of a disciple, he plied the sage with questions,
as:--What is the material and constitution of the soul? Where are laid
the bones of Seth? What bounds the credulity of mankind? These and many