How oft does passion's grasp destroy
The pleasure that it strives to gain?
How soon the thoughtless course of joy
Is doom'd to terminate in pain?
When prudence would thy steps delay,
She but restrains to make thee blest;
Whate'er from joy she lops away,
But heightens and secures the rest.
Wouldst thou a trembling flame expand,
That hastens in the lamp to die?
With careful touch, with sparing hand,
The feeding stream of life supply.
But if thy flask profusely sheds
A rushing torrent o'er the blaze,
Swift round the sinking flame it spreads,
And kills the fire it fain would raise.
_Abou Alcassim Ebn Tabataba_.
[29] Tabataba deduced his pedigree from Ali Ben Abou Taleb, and Fatima,
the daughter of Mohammed. He was born at Ispahan, but passed the
principal part of his life in Egypt, where he was appointed chief
of the sheriffs, i.e. the descendants of the Prophet, a dignity
held in the highest veneration by every Mussulman. He died in the
year of the Hegira 418, with the reputation of being one of the
most excellent poets of his time.