{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_38511/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_38511","id":"gutenberg_38511","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/38511","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Poetry","Category: Religion/Spirituality","FitzGerald, Edward, 1809-1883","Sufi poetry"],"text":"Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Rory OConor and the\nOnline Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n UNIVERSAL CLASSICS\n LIBRARY\n\n\n ILLUSTRATED\n WITH PHOTOGRAVURES ON\n JAPAN VELLUM, ETCHINGS\n HAND PAINTED INDIA-PLATE\n REPRODUCTIONS, AND\n FULL PAGE PORTRAITS\n OF AUTHORS.\n\n\n M WALTER DUNNE, PUBLISHER\n NEW YORK & LONDON\n\n\n\n\n COPYRIGHT, 1903,\n\n BY\n\n M. WALTER DUNNE;\n\n PUBLISHER\n\n[Illustration: _THE TOMB OF OMAR_\n_From an old painting by an unknown artist_]\n\n\n\n\n THE SUFISTIC QUATRAINS OF\n\n OMAR KHAYYAM\n\n IN DEFINITIVE FORM\n INCLUDING THE TRANSLATIONS OF\n\n EDWARD FITZGERALD\n (101 quatrains)\n With Edward Heron-Allen's Analysis\n\n E.H. WHINFIELD\n (500 quatrains)\n\n J.B. NICOLAS\n (464 quatrains)\n\n WITH PREFACES BY EACH TRANSLATOR AND A\n GENERAL INTRODUCTION DEALING WITH\n OMAR'S PLACE IN SUFISM, BY\n\n ROBERT ARNOT, M.A.\n\n Author of \"The Vine in Symbolism\"\n\n M. WALTER DUNNE, PUBLISHER,\n NEW YORK & LONDON\n\n\n\n\n COPYRIGHT, 1903,\n\n BY\n\n M. WALTER DUNNE,\n\n PUBLISHER\n\n\n\n\nILLUSTRATIONS\n\n FACING\n PAGE\n\n THE TOMB OF OMAR _Frontispiece_\n From an old painting by an unknown artist.\n\n THE APPROACH TO NAISHAPUR 100\n From a painting by I.R. Herbert.\n\n SUFI MYSTICS GATHERED FOR MEDITATION 210\n From an old painting by a Pushtu artist.\n\n\n\n\nTABLE OF CONTENTS\n\n\n PAGE\nGENERAL INTRODUCTION xi\nINTRODUCTION TO THE FIRST EDITION OF EDWARD FITZGERALD'S\n TRANSLATION OF THE QUATRAINS OF OMAR KHAYYAM 1\nTHE COMPLETE FITZGERALD FIRST EDITION 13\n Kuza-Nama 25\n Notes 29\nAN ANALYSIS OF EDWARD FITZGERALD'S TRANSLATION (FIFTH\n EDITION), BY EDWARD HERON-ALLEN 35\n Preface 37\n Explanation of References 42\n Analysis of Edward Fitzgerald's Quatrains 44\n Appendix 107\nVARIATIONS BETWEEN THE SECOND, THIRD AND FOURTH EDITIONS\n OF FITZGERALD'S TRANSLATION 115\n Stanzas Which Appear in the Second Edition Only 122\nCOMPARATIVE TABLE OF STANZAS IN THE FOUR EDITIONS OF\n FITZGERALD 124\n Note 127\nTHE QUATRAINS OF OMAR KHAYYAM TRANSLATED BY E.H.\n WHINFIELD, M.A. 129\n Introduction 131\n Note 139\nE.H. WHINFIELD TRANSLATION 141\nTHE QUATRAINS OF OMAR KHAYYAM TRANSLATED INTO PROSE\n FROM THE FRENCH VERSION OF MONSIEUR J.B. NICOLAS 267\n Preface 269\nTRANSLATION OF THE NICOLAS TEXT 279\n\n\n\n\nGENERAL INTRODUCTION\n\n\nThe earliest reference to Omar Khayyam dates from the middle of the\nseventh century of the Hijra.[1] Mohammad Shahrazuri, author of a\nlittle-used history of learned men, bearing the title of\n\u00abNazhet-ul-Arwah,\u00bb devotes to Khayyam the following passage:\n\n\u00ab'Omar Al-Khayyami was a Nishapuri by birth and extraction. He [may be\nregarded as] the successor of Abu 'Ali (Avicenna) in the various\nbranches of philosophic learning; but he was a man of reserved character\nand disliked entertaining (_sayyik al-'atan_). While he was in Ispahan\nhe perused a certain book seven times and then he knew it by heart. On\nhis return to Nishapur he dictated it [from memory] and on comparing it\nwith the original copy, it was found that the difference between them\nwas but slight. He was averse both to composition and to teaching. He is\nthe author of a handbook on natural science, and of two pamphlets, one\nentitled '_Al-Wujud_' (or 'Real Existence') and the other '_Al-Kawn w'al\nTaklif_.'[2] He was learned in the law, in classical Arabic, and in\nhistory.\n\n\u00abOne day Al-Khayyami went to see the Vezir, Abd-ur-Razzak, the Chief of\nthe Koran Readers. Abu-l-Hasan Al-Ghazzali was with this latter [at the\ntime], and the two were discussing the disagreement of the Koran Readers\nin regard to a certain verse. [As Omar entered] the Vezir said, 'Here we\nhave _the_ authority,' and proceeded to ask Al-Khayyami [for his\nopinion] on the matter. ['Omar] enumerated the various readings of the\nReaders, and explained the grounds (_'ilal_) for each one. He also\nmentioned the exceptional readings and the arguments in favor of each,\nand expressed his preference for one view in particular.\n\n\u00abAl-Ghazzali then said: 'May God add such men as thee to the number of\nthe learned! Of a truth, I did not think any one of the Koran Readers\nknew the readings by heart to this extent--much less one of the secular\nphilosophers.'\n\n\u00abAs for the sciences, he had mastered both mathematics and philosophy.\nOne day 'the Proof of Islam', Al-Ghazzali, came to see him and asked him\nhow it came that one could distinguish one of the parts of the sphere\nwhich revolve on the axis from the rest, although the sphere was similar\nin all its parts. Al-Khayyami pronounced his views, beginning with a\ncertain category; but he refrained from entering deeply into the\ndiscussion--and such was the wont of this respected Sheykh. [Their\nconversation was interrupted by] the call to mid-day prayer, whereupon\nAl-Ghazzali said, 'Truth has come in, and lying has gone out.' 'Omar\narose and went to visit Sultan Sanjar. The latter was [at the time] a\nmere child, and was suffering from an attack of smallpox. When he came\naway the Vezir asked him, 'How did you find the child, and what did you\nprescribe for him?' 'Omar answered, 'The child is in a most precarious\nstate.' An Ethiopian slave reported this saying to the Sultan, and when\nthe Sultan recovered he became inimical to 'Omar and did not like him.\nMelik-Shah treated him as a boon companion; and Shams-ul-Mulk honored\nhim greatly, and made him sit beside him on his throne.\n\n\u00abIt is related that ['Omar] was [one day] picking his teeth with a\ntoothpick of gold, and was studying the chapter on metaphysics from\n[Avicenna's] 'Book of Healing.' When he reached the section on 'The One\nand the Many' he placed the toothpick between the two leaves, arose,\nperformed his prayers and made his last injunctions. He neither ate nor\ndrank anything [that day]; and when he performed the last evening\nprayer, he bowed himself to the ground and said as he bowed: 'Oh, God!\nverily I have known Thee to the extent of my power: forgive me,\ntherefore. Verily my knowledge of Thee is my recommendation to Thee.'\nAnd [so saying], he died; may God have pity on him!\u00bb\n\nWe may look upon Omar as a deeply learned man, following his own\nconvictions, who, tortured with the question of existence, and finding\nno solution to life in Musulman dogmas, worked out for himself a regular\nconception of life based on Sufistic Mysticism; a man who, without\ndiscarding belief, smiled ironically at the inconsistencies and\npeculiarities of the Islam of his time, which left many minds\ndissatisfied in the fourth and fifth centuries, needing as it did\nvivification. It found this in the person of Ghazzali, who in this\nmovement assigned the proper place to the Mystic element. Omar was a\npreacher of moral purity and of a contemplative life; one who loved his\nGod and struggled to master the eternal, the good, and the beautiful.\n\nIn this manner also is Omar portrayed in the various early biographical\nnotices: a defender of \u00abGreek Science,\u00bb famous for his knowledge of the\nKoran and the Law, and at the same time a \u00abstinging serpent\u00bb to the\ndogmatic; a wit and a mocker, a bitter and implacable enemy of all\nhypocrisy; a man who, while curing others of the wounds of worldly\ntriviality, impurity, and sinful vanity, himself only with almost his\nlast breath closed the philosophic book on \u00abHealing\u00bb and turned with a\ntouching prayer to the One God, the Infinite, whom he had been striving\nto comprehend with all the strength of his mind and heart. Khayyam's\nlively protests and his heated words in freedom's cause brought upon him\nmany bitter moments in his life and exposed him to numerous attacks at\nthe hands of the mullahs, especially those of the Shiite community.\n\nBesides these, then as now (apart from hypocrites), persons were not\nwanting who, failing to understand Omar, regarded him as an unbeliever,\natheist, and materialist. But in the course of centuries the people of\nPersia and India, realizing, perhaps instinctively, the injustice of\nformer reproaches, have taken to publishing and reading Omar Khayyam in\ncollections side by side with Abu-Said, Abd-Allah Ansari, and\nAttar--that is to say, with Sufi Mystics of the purest water, men whose\nmoral and religious reputations were spotless.\n\nRightly to understand Omar some knowledge of Sufism and its tenets is\nnecessary. Sufism is a mystical doctrine which had its birth on the\nArabian coast, and succeeded in implanting itself there to the point of\nputting a decisive check upon the orthodox philosophy. The etymology of\nthe name is difficult to find. According to some, it comes from the word\n_suf_ (wool, a woolen garment) because the first persons to adopt this\ndoctrine clothed themselves in wool.\n\nWe can give, as a proof, in support of this etymology, the fact that the\nPersians call their dervishes Sufis, _pechmineh p\u00f4ch_ (clothed in wool).\nThe name could also come from the Arabic _safou_ (purity) or the Greek\nsophia (wisdom). Again, some Arabic authors call by the name of Soufa an\nArabic tribe that separated themselves from the world in the\nante-Islamic period, consecrating themselves to the keeping of the\ntemple of Mecca. A man who professed the Mystic principles of _tasawouf_\n(the spiritual life) they called a \u00abSufi.\u00bb\n\nThe origin of Musulman Mysticism is a question entailing some\ncontroversy, for whoever knows the detailed ritual and the dogmatic\ncoldness of the Koran finds it impossible to reconcile Islamic dogma\nwith any idea of Mysticism whatsoever. In vain does one seek to find an\nexample of Mystical teaching in this aphorism attributed to Mahomet: \u00abIt\nis when he prays that the faithful one is nearest God,\u00bb as Islamism\nholds to a definite separation between the Divinity and the world,\nbetween the Creator and the thing created. The religious customs that\nMahomet instituted and the moral action that he taught served only to\nmerit the good-will of the Divinity; at the utmost he only believed that\nhe would be permitted to see Him face to face.\n\nWhence comes then this Mystical idea which, for so many centuries, has\noccupied all the minds and absorbed all the intellectual force of the\nMusulman world? Two different origins can be given for it: the idea of\nemanation from and return to the divine essence whence it came--what we\ncall Neo-platonism. Added to this are Contemplation and Annihilation,\nwhich come to it through Persia and the Vedantic school as\nintermediaries, bringing with it Pantheism, which made its way late into\nSufism, and almost solely among the Persians. Also, it could be said\nthat originally Sufism owed its principles to the Alexandrian school.\n\nThe Arabs, who studied and translated the greater part of Aristotle,\nknew Plato only by name; but they came under his influence and received\nhis doctrines, strongly impregnated with the Mysticism of the Kabbala,\nthrough the Alexandrians and especially through Philon. To annihilate\nreason, or at least to subordinate it to feeling; to attack liberty, in\norder to subject the whole of life to love; and, furthermore, the blind\nabandoning of self--such is the aim of Sufism, as it is of all Mystic\nphilosophy.\n\nThe doctrine of the Sufis has been set forth in a great number of\ntreatises, notably that of Sohrawdi. God alone exists; He is in\neverything and everything is in Him. All beings emanate from Him,\nwithout being really distinct from Him. The world exists for all\neternity; the material is only an illusion of the senses. Sufism is the\ntrue philosophy of Islamism, \u00abwhich is the best of religions,\u00bb but\nreligions have only a relative importance and serve but to guide us\ntoward the Reality.\n\nGod is the author of the acts of the human race; it is He who controls\nthe will of man, which is _not_ free in its action. Like all animals man\npossesses an original mind, an animal or living mind, a mind\ninstinctive, but he has also a human mind, breathed into him by God, and\nof the same character as the original and constructive element itself.\nThe concomitant mind comprehends the original element and the human\nmind; it extends itself over the triple domain: animal, vegetable, and\nmineral. The soul, which existed before the body, is confined in the\nbody as in a cage; death, then is, the object of the Sufi's desires,\nsince it returns him to the bosom of the Divinity. This metempsychosis\npermits the soul which has not fulfilled its destiny here below to be\npurified and worthy of a re-union with God. This spiritual union all can\nstrive for ardently, but all cannot attain, because it is a product of\nthe grace of God.\n\nThe Sufi, during his sojourn in the body, is uniquely occupied in\nmeditating upon his unity with God (_Wahdanija_), the reminiscence of\nthe names of God (_Zikr_), and the progressive advancement in the\n_tarika_ or journey of life, up to his unification with God.\n\nWhat is the Sufi journey, then? Human life has been likened to a voyage,\nwhere the traveler is seeking after God. The aim of the voyage is to\nattain to a knowledge of God, for human existence is a period of\nbanishment for the soul, which cannot return to God until it has passed\nthrough many successive stages. The natural state of man is called\n_nasout_ (humanity); the disciple should observe the law and conform to\nall the rites of believers. The other stages are: the nature of the\nangels (_malakout_), where one follows the way to purity, the possession\nof power (_djabrout_), the degree to which knowledge corresponds\n(_m'arifa_), and finally, extinction or absorption in the Deity, the\ndegree to which truth corresponds. The voyager agrees to renouncement,\nwhich is of two kinds: external and internal. The first is the\nrenouncement of riches and worldly honors; the second is the\nrenouncement of profane desires. And he should especially guard against\nidolatry, which for some is the adoration of worldly achievement, for\nothers a too assiduous practice of praying and fasting.\n\nTo arrive at this aim, the voyager has three necessary aids: attraction\n(_ind\u00ef\u00efdhah_), the act of God which draws all men who have that tendency\nor inclination to Him; devotion (_ib\u00e2da_), continuing the journey by two\nroads--towards God and in God, the first limited, the second without\nlimit; finally, elevation (_ouroudi_). But the voyage cannot be\naccomplished alone; it is necessary to have a guide or a monitor taken\nfrom the second class (_ib\u00e2da_). The believer who, after having been\n_t\u00e2lib_ (an educated man doubting the reality of God) and _mourid_\n(desirous of following out his quest), becomes a _salik_ (traveler),\nplaces himself under the authority of a Sufi guide who teaches him to\nserve God until, through divine influence, he attains to the _ichk_\n(love) stage. Divine love, removing all mundane desires from his heart,\ncauses him to arrive at _zouhd_ (isolation); he then leads a\ncontemplative life, passes through the _m'arifa_ degree, and awaits the\ndirect illumination of _wadja_ (ecstasy).\n\nAfter having received a revelation of the true nature of God (the\n_hakika_ stage) he arrives at the _wasl_ stage (union with God); he\ncannot go further; death alone remains, by which he will arrive at the\nfinal degree, absorption in the Divinity. The _Zikr_ are only various\nforms of devotion invented by the Sufi guides to develop the spiritual\nlife. The conduct of the disciple in the presence of his master is\ndetermined by rules which differ little from those imposed upon all\ndervishes.\n\nSome authors distinguish, in the Sufi voyage, seven stages,\ncorresponding to the degrees in the celestial sphere, in order to have\nthe soul received there after death. But, protest metaphysicians, the\nsoul cannot return to a determined place, since it does not come from a\ndetermined place. Celestial intelligence, to which corresponds the\ndegree of intelligence reached by man, will absorb the soul after its\nseparation from the body.\n\nThe Sufis attribute a high antiquity to their doctrines. They do not\nhesitate to refer them to as far back as Abraham; they pretend that one\nof the founders of their sect was own son-in-law to the prophet Ali, son\nof Abou-T\u00e2lib. Finally, \u00abthere came a pious woman from Jerusalem, by the\nname of Rabia, whose words recall the Christian Mysticism.\u00bb\n\nThe first person to take the name of Sufi was Abou-Hachim of Koufa. The\nfirst convent or _Khanakah_ was founded in Khorasan by Abou-Said, the\nPersian, although the prophet had prohibited monkish life in Islam.\nAnother convent was established at Ramia, in Syria, and Saladin founded\none in Egypt. Sufism then was divided into two schools: The Persian\nBest\u00e2mi (A.D. 875) inclined towards Pantheism; Djonaid, of Bagdad,\npreached a system reconcilable with Musulman dogmatism. One of the most\ncelebrated doctors of this school was Halladj, burnt alive in A.D. 922.\nThey discoursed upon Sufism under the Kalifs Al-Motazz and Al-Mohtadi,\nand preached it under Al-Motamid. The principal Sufi writers are:\nMohammed Salami an Nichabouri (A.D. 1021), El-Kochairi (A.D. 1072),\nGhazli (A.D. 1111), Sohrawdi (A.D. 1234), Ferid-ed-din Attar (A.D.\n1230), Djami (A.D. 1492), and Ech-Cha'rani (A.D. 1565).\n\nThis Mysticism, so sweet and so full of sentiment, exhales itself in\npoesy, and is as much stamped with tenderness and resignation as it is\noverflowing with sensuality and drunkenness. The best and most\nillustrious of the Persian poets are of this sect: Djelal-ed-din\ner-Roumi, author of the \u00ab_Mesnewi_\u00bb, Djami, author of \u00ab_Salaman\nou-Absa_\u00bb, Ferid-ed-din Attar, author of \u00ab_Mantik-ut-tair_\u00bb; S'adi,\nHafiz de Chiraz, Bayazid-al-Bestami.\n\nJust as Sufis leave the true faith for its semblance, so they also\nexchange the external features of all things for the internal (the\ncorporeal for the spiritual) and give a spiritual significance to\noutward forms. They behold objects of a precious nature in their natural\ncharacter, and for this reason, the greater part of their words have a\nspiritual and visionary meaning.\n\nFor instance, when, like Omar, they mention wine, they mean a knowledge\nof God, which, extensively considered, is the love of God. Wine, viewed\nextensively, is also love: love and affection are here the same thing.\nThe wine-shop with them means the _murshid i kiamil_ (spiritual\ndirector), for his heart is said to be the depository of the love of\nGod; the wine-cup is the _telkin_ (the pronunciation of the name of God\nin a declaration of faith as: There is no God but Allah), or it\nsignifies the words which flow from the _murshid's_ mouth respecting\ndivine knowledge, and which, heard by the _salik_ (the Dervish, or one\nwho pursues the true path), intoxicates his soul, and divests his mind\n(of passions) giving him pure, spiritual delight.\n\nThe sweetheart or Beloved means the preceptor, because, when any one\nsees his beloved he admires her proportions, with a heart full of love.\nThe Dervish beholds the secret knowledge of God which fills the heart\nof his spiritual preceptor (_murshid_), and through it receives a\nsimilar inspiration, and acquires a full perception of all that he\npossesses, just as the pupil learns from his master. As the lover\ndelights in the presence of his sweetheart, so the Dervish rejoices in\nthe company of his beloved preceptor. The sweetheart is the object of a\nworldly affection; but the preceptor commands a spiritual attachment.\n\nThe curls or ringlets of the beloved are the grateful praises of the\npreceptor, tending to bind the affections of the Dervish-pupil; the\nmoles on her face signify that when the pupil, at times, beholds the\ntotal absence of all worldly wants on the part of the preceptor, he also\nabandons all the desires of both worlds--he, perhaps, even goes so far\nas to desire nothing else in life than his preceptor; the furrows on the\nbrow of the beloved one, which they compare to verses of the Koran, mean\nthe light of the heart of the _murshid_: they are compared to the verses\nof the Koran, because the attributes of God, in accordance with the\ninjunction of the Prophet: \u00abBe ye endued with divine qualities,\u00bb are\npossessed by the sheikh (or _murshid_).\n\nPerhaps I can do no better than to quote one of the foremost authorities\non Sufism[3] in regard to Omar's teachings.\n\n\u00abSeldom has a poet suffered from his friends and his foes as has Omar\nKhayyam. 'He has been regarded,' says a writer, 'as a free-thinker, a\nsubverter of faith; an atheist and materialist; a pantheist and a\nscoffer at Mysticism; an orthodox Musulman; a true philosopher, a keen\nobserver, a man of learning; a _bon vivant_, a profligate, a dissembler\nand a hypocrite, and a blasphemer--nay, more, an incarnate negation of\npositive religion and of all moral beliefs; a gentle nature, more given\nto the contemplation of things divine than worldly enjoyments; an\nepicurean sceptic; the Persian Abu-l-Ala, Voltaire, and Heine in one.'\nThe writer has in view the well-known criticisms of Von Hammer, Renan,\nEllis, Nicolas, Garcin de Tassy, Whinfield, Aug. Muller, etc. He might\nhave added Vedder's curious misunderstanding of the 'Beloved,' making\nhim a damsel and a playtoy, and the thousand and one small ideas set\nforth by Omarian Societies.\n\n\u00abAll this criticism is curious because it is so completely out of\nharmony with the facts of Omar's life. It is true that no complete,\nauthentic manuscript of Omar's is known, and equally true that no\ncomprehensive biography is known; but detailed information has come down\nto us from his contemporaries. From these notes enough can be gathered\nto show that Omar was a great man indeed, one who clearly and forcibly\nshows the four sides of a perfect character.\n\n\u00abA perfect character is first and fundamentally powerful. It is based\nupon the One, be it in idea or in action. Next, it is so simple and\ndirect that all extraneous thoughts and purposes are unknown to it.\nThese two sides condition one another. No power without simplicity and\nno directness without power. The third side of a great character is love\nor human feeling; a fullness that seeks to draw all men to the One, and\nthe fourth and last characteristic is harmony or a welding together into\nOne of all these four. The last characteristic is, of course, an\nimpossibility where the others do not exist; nor can the others attain\nany vividness or fullness without love.\n\n\u00abA perfect character is rare. We see, however, glimpses of it here and\nthere. Omar Khayyam was a type of perfect character. He is full of the\nOne; he knows of nothing but the One; he burns to draw his fellow-men to\nthe One; he belongs nowhere but in the One, in whom he indeed can be\nsaid to move, live, and have his being. In the One he attained\nWholeness, harmony. Omar's philosophy is that of the Sufis. In that,\ntoo, he is consistent. The one is Truth; Truth is the reality of things,\nTruth burns to draw men to Itself; Truth is the Law or 'Universe.' His\nmethod is Symbolism, viz.: he chooses the transparencies of Nature in\norder to show his hearers how Truth or Wisdom and Love or Devotion\neverywhere appear to be the reality behind 'the magic Shadow-shapes\nthat come and go.' His most prominent symbols are Wine and Love; Roses,\nSpringtime, and Death.\n\n\u00abOmar's ethics are not those of Mohammedanism. He advocates Resignation,\nto be sure, but not Mohammedan fatalism as popularly understood. His\nmorals spring from his conception of the fullness of the One, and as\nsuch they are in harmony with the most universal notions of mankind. In\none word, Omar's theology, philosophy, method, and morals are Sufistic,\nSufism taken in the highest sense as the unifying notion for Wholeness,\nLove, Truth, and Power. A study of Sufism will reveal the real\nOmar--hitherto but little known, if known at all.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\u00abNo one has attempted, so far as I know, to classify the various\nSufistic systems. It is not so difficult to do so when a key can be\nfound to them. The best key is that four-foldness which manifests itself\nin all human character, endeavor, and work. Corresponding to the\nfour-foldness of character delineated above, I shall now take the terms\nLife, Love, Light, and Law and say that Al-Ghazzali and Jelaladdin\nrepresent the first and, as a proof, point to their constant emphasis of\nwill as being the dominant power of existence, and the prominence they\ngive to moral worth. The type of Love, in the form of poetry and\nfeeling, is represented by Hafiz and Jami. The third group is fully and\ncompletely filled by Shabistani, the author of 'Gulshan-i-Raz.' It is\nLight, and its form is Philosophy, Truth, and Understanding. The last,\nthe fourth, sums up in a measure, the three preceding, and is also a\nclearly defined group by itself. It is Law, Order, Unity, and Reality.\nThere is more independence in it than in any of the others, because it\nis the nearest approach known in existence to Wholeness or Unity. It\ncontains the opposites of existence, both cosmic and human, viz.: the\nprotest of the Mystic and also his affirmation, and the new Hope he\nrepresents.\n\n\u00abOmar Khayyam belongs to this fourth group. I do not say he alone fills\nit. But he exhibits that Independence and Protest which is the first and\noutward characteristic of it. He is also from time to time soaring into\nthe realms of the Truth or Unity, in a way not found in any other Sufi\npoet or doctor.\n\n\u00abUnder the garb of the Mystic's favorite method of Doubt and Protest,\nthe Sufi (Omar) pictures the process of the Awakening of the Soul. That\nis the purpose of the 'Magic Shadow-shapes that come and go' in the\nRubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. His pictures are sufficiently transparent for\nus to see The Reality Behind.\n\n\u00abWhile so much is claimed for Omar, it must not be forgotten that it has\nnot been said that he is the only perfect Sufi. It is not our intention\nto say or to intimate that. Omar is great enough when we attribute to\nhim the office of an Awakener; not merely that of a John the Baptist,\nbut the office of one who is himself full of the Awakening he preaches.\nSuch an one is a unique character, and is truly an At-oner, one who\nheals all wounds and binds up broken limbs.\u00bb\n\n\nI have already stated, if not in actual words, at least by inference,\nthat Khayyam's philosophical and religious opinions were in certain\nessential points based upon the teaching of the Vedantas. He must have\nbeen familiar with the general scope of their philosophy, although\nattaching himself, as we have seen, to the ranks of the Sufi Mystics.\nSufism and Babism are probably the most widely spread doctrines current\nin modern Persia, and after all are but forms of Vedantic pantheism\ndespoiled of real significance by the effort to accommodate themselves\nto the creed of Islam. We learn from El Kifti that Khayyam \u00abexhorted to\nthe seeking of the One, the Ruler, by the purification of bodily\nmovements, for the cleansing of the human soul,\u00bb an unmistakable\nexposition of Sufi practices, although based originally upon the customs\nof the Vedantic sages.\n\nHe certainly did not practice asceticism and other quasi-religious\nforms, which had been grafted upon the austere simplicity of the\noriginal Vedantic creed, but he did inculcate the necessity of acquiring\n\u00abthe knowledge of the unity of the soul with God\u00bb--the one thing\nimportant--which can only be achieved by the renouncement of desire,\nthe purification of the soul from the lusts of the world, and the\npractice of kindliness, goodness, universal sympathy with mankind, and\nthe patience which brings perfect work.\n\nThat Omar was a man of many moods is evident. His poetic faculties,\nacted upon by an intelligence that was profound, and by a wit as cutting\nas the _tulwar_ of a Persian soldier, swayed him hither and thither upon\nthe sea of daily doubts and fears which are part of man's existence.\nYet, in his way, he was a beacon light, not only in the history of Sufi\nMysticism, but in the annals of God-seeking. I can find no better\nyoke-fellow for him than Luther, like whom he was indeed an Apostle of\nProtest.\n\n Robert Arnot\n\n\n\n\n THE FIRST EDITION OF\n\n EDWARD FITZGERALD'S TRANSLATION\n\n OF THE\n\n QUATRAINS OF OMAR KHAYYAM\n\n\n\n\nOMAR KHAYYAM\n\nTHE\n\nASTRONOMER-POET OF PERSIA\n\n\nOmar Khayyam was born at Naishapur in Khorassan in the latter half of\nour eleventh, and died within the first quarter of our twelfth Century.\nThe slender story of his life is curiously twined about that of two\nother very considerable figures in their time and country: one of whom\ntells the story of all three. This was Nizam ul Mulk, Vizyr to Alp\nArslan the son, and Malik Shah the grandson, of Toghrul Beg the Tartar,\nwho had wrested Persia from the feeble successor of Mahmud the Great,\nand founded that Seljukian Dynasty which finally roused Europe into the\nCrusades. This Nizam ul Mulk, in his \u00ab_Wasiyat_\u00bb--or \u00abTestament\u00bb--which\nhe wrote and left as a memorial for future statesmen--relates the\nfollowing, as quoted in the \u00abCalcutta Review,\u00bb No. lix., from Mirkhond's\n\u00abHistory of the Assassins.\u00bb\n\n\u00ab'One of the greatest of the wise men of Khorassan was the Imam Mowaffak\nof Naishapur, a man highly honoured and reverenced--may God rejoice his\nsoul; his illustrious years exceeded eighty-five, and it was the\nuniversal belief that every boy who read the Koran or studied the\ntraditions in his presence, would assuredly attain to honour and\nhappiness. For this cause did my father send me from Tus to Naishapur\nwith Abd-us-samad, the doctor of law, that I might employ myself in\nstudy and learning under the guidance of that illustrious teacher.\nTowards me he ever turned an eye of favour and kindness, and as his\npupil I felt for him extreme affection and devotion, so that I passed\nfour years in his service. When I first came there, I found two other\npupils of mine own age newly arrived, Hakim Omar Khayyam, and the\nill-fated Ben Sabbah. Both were endowed with sharpness of wit and the\nhighest natural powers; and we three formed a close friendship together.\nWhen the Imam rose from his lectures, they used to join me, and we\nrepeated to each other the lessons we had heard. Now Omar was a native\nof Naishapur, while Hasan Ben Sabbah's father was one Ali, a man of\naustere life and practice, but heretical in his creed and doctrine. One\nday Hasan said to me and to Khayyam, \u00abIt is a universal belief that the\npupils of the Imam Mowaffak will attain to fortune. Now, even if we\n_all_ do not attain thereto, without doubt one of us will, what then\nshall be our mutual pledge and bond?\u00bb We answered, \u00abBe it what you\nplease.\u00bb--\u00abWell,\u00bb he said, \u00ablet us make a vow, that to whomsoever this\nfortune falls, he shall share it equally with the rest, and reserve no\npre-eminence for himself.\u00bb--\u00abBe it so,\u00bb we both replied, and on those\nterms we mutually pledged our words. Years rolled on, and I went from\nKhorassan to Transoxiana, and wandered to Ghazni and Cabul; and when I\nreturned, I was invested with office, and rose to be administrator of\naffairs during the Sultanate of Sultan Alp Arslan.'\n\n\u00abHe goes on to state, that years passed by, and both his old\nschool-friends found him out, and came and claimed a share in his good\nfortune, according to the school-day vow. The Vizier was generous and\nkept his word. Hasan demanded a place in the government, which the\nSultan granted at the Vizier's request; but, discontented with a gradual\nrise, he plunged into the maze of intrigue of an Oriental court, and,\nfailing in a base attempt to supplant his benefactor, he was disgraced\nand fell. After many mishaps and wanderings, Hasan became the head of\nthe Persian sect of the _Ismailians_--a party of fanatics who had long\nmurmured in obscurity, but rose to an evil eminence under the guidance\nof his strong and evil will. In A.D. 1090, he seized the castle of\nAlamut, in the province of Rudbar, which lies in the mountainous tract\nsouth of the Caspian Sea; and it was from this mountain home he obtained\nthat evil celebrity among the Crusaders as the OLD MAN OF THE MOUNTAINS,\nand spread terror through the Mohammedan world; and it is yet disputed\nwhether the word _Assassin_, which they have left in the language of\nmodern Europe as their dark memorial, is derived from the _hashish_, or\nopiate of hemp-leaves (the Indian _bhang_), with which they maddened\nthemselves to the sullen pitch of Oriental desperation, or from the name\nof the founder of the dynasty, whom we have seen in his quiet collegiate\ndays, at Naishapur. One of the countless victims of the Assassin's\ndagger was Nizam ul Mulk himself, the old school-boy friend.[4]\n\n\u00abOmar Khayyam also came to the Vizier to claim his share; but not to ask\nfor title or office. 'The greatest boon you can confer on me,' he said,\n'is to let me live in a corner under the shadow of your fortune, to\nspread wide, the advantages of Science, and pray for your long life and\nprosperity.' The Vizier tells us, that, when he found Omar was really\nsincere in his refusal, he pressed him no further, but granted him a\nyearly pension of 1200 _mithkals_ of gold, from the treasury of\nNaishapur.\u00bb\n\n\u00abAt Naishapur thus lived and died Omar Khayyam, 'busied,' adds the\nVizier, 'in winning knowledge of every kind, and especially in\nAstronomy, wherein he attained to a very high pre-eminence. Under the\nSultanate of Malik Shah he came to Merv, and obtained great praise for\nhis proficiency in science, and the Sultan showered favours upon him.'\n\n\u00abWhen Malik Shah determined to reform the calendar, Omar was one of the\neight learned men employed to do it; the result was the _Jalali_ era (so\ncalled from _Jalal-ud-din_ one of the king's names)--'a computation of\ntime,' says Gibbon, 'which surpasses the Julian, and approaches the\naccuracy of the Gregorian style.' He is also the author of some\nastronomical tables, entitled '_Ziji-Malik-skahi,'\u00bb_ and the French have\nlately republished and translated an Arabic treatise of his on algebra.\n\n\u00abHis Takhallus or poetical name (Khayyam) signifies a Tentmaker, and he\nis said to have at one time exercised that trade, perhaps before Nizam\nul Mulk's generosity raised him to independence. Many Persian poets\nsimilarly derive their names from their occupations; thus we have Attar,\n'a druggist,' Assar, 'an oil presser,' etc.[5] Omar himself alludes to\nhis name in the following whimsical lines:--\n\n \u00ab'Khayyam, who stitched the tents of science,\n Has fallen in grief's furnace and been suddenly burned;\n The shears of Fate have cut the tent ropes of his life,\n And the broker of Hope has sold him for nothing!'\n\n\u00abWe have only one more anecdote to give of his life, and that relates to\nthe close; it is told in the anonymous preface which is sometimes\nprefixed to his poems; it has been printed in the Persian in the\nappendix to Hyde's 'Veterum Persarum Religio,' p. 499; and D'Herbelot\nalludes to it in his _Biblioth\u00e8que_, under _Khiam_:[6]--\n\n\u00ab'It is written in the chronicles of the ancients that this King of the\nWise, Omar Khayyam, died at Naishapur in the year of the Hegira 517\n(A.D. 1123); in science he was unrivalled,--the very paragon of his age.\nKhwajah Nizami of Samarcand, who was one of his pupils, relates the\nfollowing story: \u00abI often used to hold conversations with my teacher\nOmar Khayyam, in a garden; and one day he said to me, 'My tomb shall be\nin a spot where the north wind may scatter roses over it.' I wondered at\nthe words he spake, but I knew that his were no idle words.[7] Years\nafter, when I chanced to revisit Naishapur, I went to his final\nresting-place, and lo! it was just outside a garden, and trees laden\nwith fruit stretched their boughs over the garden wall, and dropped\ntheir flowers upon his tomb, so that the stone was hidden under them.\u00bb'\u00bb\n\nThus far--without fear of trespass--from the \u00abCalcutta Review.\u00bb The\nwriter of it, on reading in India this story of Omar's grave, was\nreminded, he says, of Cicero's account of finding Archimedes' tomb at\nSyracuse, buried in grass and weeds. I think Thorwaldsen desired to have\nroses grow over him; a wish religiously fulfilled for him to the present\nday, I believe. However, to return to Omar.\n\nThough the Sultan \u00abshower'd favours upon him,\u00bb Omar's Epicurean audacity\nof thought and speech caused him to be regarded askance in his own time\nand country. He is said to have been especially hated and dreaded by the\nSufis, whose practice he ridiculed, and whose faith amounts to little\nmore than his own, when stript of the Mysticism and formal recognition\nof Islamism under which Omar would not hide. Their poets, including\nHafiz, who are (with the exception of Firdausi) the most considerable in\nPersia, borrowed largely, indeed, of Omar's material, but turning it to\na mystical use more convenient to themselves and the people they\naddressed; a people quite as quick of doubt as of belief; as keen of\nbodily sense as of intellectual; and delighting in a cloudy composition\nof both, in which they could float luxuriously between heaven and earth,\nand this world and the next, on the wings of a poetical expression, that\nmight serve indifferently for either Omar was too honest of heart as\nwell as of head for this. Having failed (however mistakenly) of finding\nany Providence but destiny, and any world but this, he set about making\nthe most of it; preferring rather to soothe the soul through the senses\ninto acquiescence with things as he saw them, than to perplex it with\nvain disquietude after what they _might_ be. It has been seen, however,\nthat his worldly ambition was not exorbitant; and he very likely takes a\nhumorous or perverse pleasure in exalting the gratification of sense\nabove that of the intellect, in which he must have taken great delight,\nalthough it failed to answer the questions in which he, in common with\nall men, was most vitally interested.\n\nFor whatever reason, however, Omar, as before said, has never been\npopular in his own country, and therefore has been but scantily\ntransmitted abroad. The MSS. of his Poems, mutilated beyond the average\ncasualties of Oriental transcription, are so rare in the East as scarce\nto have reached westward at all, in spite of all the acquisitions of\narms and science. There is no copy at the India House, none at the\nBiblioth\u00e8que Nationale of Paris. We know but of one in England: No. 140\nof the Ouseley MSS. at the Bodleian, written at Shiraz, A.D. 1460. This\ncontains but 158 Rubaiyat. One in the Asiatic Society's Library at\nCalcutta (of which we have a copy) contains (and yet incomplete) 516,\nthough swelled to that by all kinds of repetition and corruption. So Von\nHammer speaks of _his_ copy as containing about 200, while Dr. Sprenger\ncatalogues the Lucknow MS. at double that number.[8] The scribes, too,\nof the Oxford and Calcutta MSS. seem to do their work under a sort of\nprotest; each beginning with a tetrastich (whether genuine or not),\ntaken out of its alphabetical order; the Oxford with one of apology; the\nCalcutta with one of expostulation, supposed (says a notice prefixed to\nthe MS.) to have arisen from a dream, in which Omar's mother asked about\nhis future fate. It may be rendered thus--\n\n \u00abOh Thou who burn'st in Heart for those who burn\n In Hell, whose fires thyself shall feed in turn;\n How long be crying, 'Mercy on them, God!'\n Why, who art Thou to teach, and He to learn?\u00bb\n\nThe Bodleian quatrain pleads Pantheism by way of Justification.\n\n \u00abIf I myself upon a looser Creed\n Have loosely strung the Jewel of Good Deed,\n Let this one thing for my Atonement plead:\n That One for Two I never did mis-read.\u00bb\n\nThe reviewer,[9] to whom I owe the particulars of Omar's life, concludes\nhis review by comparing him with Lucretius, both as to natural temper\nand genius, and as acted upon by the circumstances in which he lived.\nBoth indeed were men of subtle, strong, and cultivated intellect, fine\nimagination, and hearts passionate for truth and justice; who justly\nrevolted from their country's false religion, and false, or foolish,\ndevotion to it, but who fell short of replacing what they subverted by\nsuch better _hope_ as others, with no better revelation to guide them,\nhad yet made a law to themselves. Lucretius, indeed, with such material\nas Epicurus furnished, satisfied himself with the theory of a vast\nmachine fortuitously constructed, and acting by a law that implied no\nlegislator; and so composing himself into a Stoical rather than\nEpicurean severity of attitude, sat down to contemplate the mechanical\ndrama of the Universe which he was part actor in; himself and all about\nhim (as in his own sublime description of the Roman Theatre) discolored\nwith the lurid reflex of the curtain suspended between the spectator\nand the sun. Omar, more desperate, or more careless of any so\ncomplicated system as resulted in nothing but hopeless necessity, flung\nhis own genius and learning with a bitter or humorous jest into the\ngeneral ruin which their insufficient glimpses only served to reveal;\nand, pretending sensual pleasure as the serious purpose of life, only\n_diverted_ himself with speculative problems of Deity, Destiny, Matter\nand Spirit, Good and Evil, and other such questions, easier to start\nthan to run down, and the pursuit of which becomes a very weary sport at\nlast!\n\nWith regard to the present translation. The original Rubaiyat (as,\nmissing an Arabic guttural, these _Tetrastichs_ are more musically\ncalled) are independent stanzas, consisting each of four lines of equal,\nthough varied, prosody; sometimes _all_ rhyming, but oftener (as here\nimitated) the third line a blank. Somewhat as in the Greek alcaic, where\nthe penultimate line seems to lift and suspend the wave that falls over\nin the last. As usual with such kind of Oriental verse, the Rubaiyat\nfollow one another according to alphabetic rhyme--a strange succession\nof grave and gay. Those here selected are strung into something of an\neclogue, with perhaps a less than equal proportion of the \u00abDrink and\nmake-merry\u00bb which (genuine or not) recurs over-frequently in the\noriginal. Either way the result is sad enough: saddest perhaps when most\nostentatiously merry: more apt to move sorrow than anger toward the old\nTentmaker, who, after vainly endeavouring to unshackle his steps from\ndestiny, and to catch some authentic glimpse of TO-MORROW, fell back\nupon TO-DAY (which has outlasted so many TO-MORROWS!) as the only ground\nhe had got to stand upon, however momentarily slipping from under his\nfeet.\n\n\nWhile the second Edition of this version of Omar was preparing, M.\nNicolas, French Consul at Resht, published a very careful and very good\nedition of the text, from a lithograph copy at Teheran, comprising 464\nRubaiyat, with translation and notes of his own.\n\nM. Nicolas, whose edition has reminded me of several things, and\ninstructed me in others, does not consider Omar to be the material\nEpicurean that I have literally taken him for, but a Mystic, shadowing\nthe Deity under the figure of wine, wine-bearer, etc., as Hafiz is\nsupposed to do; in short, a Sufi Poet like Hafiz and the rest.\n\nI cannot see reason to alter my opinion, formed as it was more than a\ndozen years ago[10] when Omar was first shown me by one to whom I am\nindebted for all I know of Oriental, and very much of other, literature.\nHe admired Omar's genius so much, that he would gladly have adopted any\nsuch interpretation of his meaning as M. Nicolas' if he could.[11] That\nhe could not, appears by his paper in the \u00abCalcutta Review\u00bb already so\nlargely quoted; in which he argues from the Poems themselves, as well as\nfrom what records remain of the Poet's Life.\n\nAnd if more were needed to disprove M. Nicolas' theory, there is the\nBiographical Notice which he himself has drawn up in direct\ncontradiction to the interpretation of the Poems given in his notes.\nIndeed I hardly knew poor Omar was so far gone till his apologist\ninformed me. For here we see that, whatever were the wine that Hafiz\ndrank and sang, the veritable juice of the grape it was which Omar used,\nnot only when carousing with his friends, but (says M. Nicolas) in order\nto excite himself to that pitch of devotion which others reached by\ncries and \u00abhurlemens.\u00bb And yet, whenever wine, wine-bearer, etc., occur\nin the text--which is often enough--M. Nicolas carefully annotates\n\u00ab_Dieu_,\u00bb \u00ab_La Divinit\u00e9_,\u00bb etc.: so carefully indeed that one is tempted\nto think that he was indoctrinated by the Sufi with whom he read the\nPoems. A Persian would naturally wish to vindicate a distinguished\ncountryman: and a Sufi to enrol him in his own sect, which already\ncomprises all the chief poets in Persia.\n\nWhat historical authority has M. Nicolas to show that Omar gave himself\nup \u00ab_avec passion \u00e0 l'\u00e9tude de la philosophie des Soufis_\u00bb? The\ndoctrines of Pantheism, Materialism, Necessity, etc., were not peculiar\nto the Sufi; nor to Lucretius before them; nor to Epicurus before him;\nprobably the very original irreligion of thinking men from the first;\nand very likely to be the spontaneous growth of a philosopher living in\nan age of social and political barbarism, under shadow of one of the\nTwo-and-Seventy Religions supposed to divide the world. Von Hammer\n(according to Sprenger's \u00abOriental Catalogue\u00bb) speaks of Omar as \u00aba\nFree-thinker and _a great opponent of Sufism_\u00bb; perhaps because, while\nholding much of their doctrine, he would not pretend to any inconsistent\nseverity of morals. Sir W. Ouseley has written a note to something of\nthe same effect on the fly-leaf of the Bodleian MS. And in two Rubaiyat\nof M. Nicolas' own Edition Suf and Sufi are both disparagingly named.\n\nNo doubt many of these Quatrains seem unaccountable unless mystically\ninterpreted; but many more as unaccountable unless literally. Were the\nWine spiritual, for instance, how wash the Body with it when dead? Why\nmake cups of the dead clay to be filled with--\u00ab_La Divinit\u00e9_\u00bb--by some\nsucceeding Mystic? M. Nicolas himself is puzzled by some \u00ab_bizarres_\u00bb\nand \u00ab_trop Orientales_\u00bb allusions and images--\u00ab_d'une sensualit\u00e9\nquelquefois r\u00e9voltante_\u00bb indeed--which \u00ab_les convenances_\u00bb do not permit\nhim to translate; but still which the reader cannot but refer to \u00ab_La\nDivinit\u00e9_\u00bb.[12] No doubt also many of the Quatrains in the Teheran, as\nin the Calcutta, Copies, are spurious; such _Rubaiyat_ being the common\nform of epigram in Persia. But this, at best, tells as much one way as\nanother; nay, the Sufi, who may be considered the scholar and man of\nletters in Persia, would be far more likely than the careless epicure to\ninterpolate what favours his own view of the poet. I observe that very\nfew of the more mystical Quatrains are in the Bodleian MS. which must be\none of the oldest, as dated at Shiraz, A.H. 865, A.D. 1460. And this, I\nthink, especially distinguishes Omar (I cannot help calling him by\nhis--no, not Christian--familar name) from all other Persian poets:\nThat, whereas with them the poet is lost in his song, the man in\nallegory and abstraction, we seem to have the man--the _bonhomme_--Omar\nhimself, with all his humours and passions, as frankly before us as if\nwe were really at table with him, after the wine had gone round.\n\nI must say that I, for one, never wholly believed in the mysticism of\nHafiz. It does not appear there was any danger in holding and singing\nSufi Pantheism, so long as the poet made his salaam to Mohammed at the\nbeginning and end of his song. Under such conditions Jelaluddin, Jami,\nAttar, and others sang; using wine and beauty indeed as images to\nillustrate, not as a mask to hide, the Divinity they were celebrating.\nPerhaps some allegory less liable to mistake or abuse had been better\namong so inflammable a people: much more so when, as some think with\nHafiz and Omar, the abstract is not only likened to, but identified\nwith, the sensual Image; hazardous, if not to the devotee himself, yet\nto his weaker brethren; and worse for the profane in proportion as the\ndevotion of the initiated grew warmer. And all for what? To be\ntantalized with images of sensual enjoyment which must be renounced if\none would approximate a God, who according to the doctrine, _is_ sensual\nmatter as well as spirit, and into whose universe one expects\nunconsciously to merge after death, without hope of any posthumous\nbeatitude in another world to compensate for all one's self-denial in\nthis. Lucretius' blind Divinity certainly merited, and probably got, as\nmuch self-sacrifice as this of the Sufi; and the burden of Omar's\nsong--if not \u00abLet us eat\u00bb--is assuredly--\u00abLet us drink, for to-morrow we\ndie!\u00bb And if Hafiz meant quite otherwise by a similar language, he\nsurely miscalculated when he devoted his life and genius to so equivocal\na psalmody as, from his day to this, has been said and sung by any\nrather than spiritual worshippers.\n\nHowever, as there is some traditional presumption, and certainly the\nopinion of some learned men, in favour of Omar's being a Sufi--and even\nsomething of a saint--those who please may so interpret his wine and\ncup-bearer. On the other hand, as there is far more historical certainty\nof his being a philosopher, of scientific insight and ability far beyond\nthat of the age and country he lived in; of such moderate worldly\nambition as becomes a philosopher, and such moderate wants as rarely\nsatisfy a debauchee. Other readers may be content to believe with me\nthat, while the wine Omar celebrates is simply the juice of the grape,\nhe bragged more than he drank of it, in very defiance perhaps of that\nspiritual wine which left its votaries sunk in hypocrisy or disgust.\n\n EDWARD FITZGERALD.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FITZGERALD FIRST EDITION\n\n [_The first Edition of the translation of Omar Khayyam, which\n appeared in 1859, differs so much from those which followed, that it\n has been thought better to print it in full, instead of merely\n attempting to record the differences_.]\n\n\nI.\n\n Awake! for Morning in the Bowl of Night\n Has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight:\n And Lo! the Hunter of the East has caught\n The Sultan's Turret in a Noose of Light.\n\n\nII.\n\n Dreaming when Dawn's Left Hand was in the Sky\n I heard a Voice within the Tavern cry,\n \u00abAwake, my Little ones, and fill the Cup\n Before Life's Liquor in its Cup be dry.\u00bb\n\n\nIII.\n\n And, as the Cock crew, those who stood before\n The Tavern shouted--\u00abOpen then the Door!\n You know how little while we have to stay,\n And, once departed, may return no more.\u00bb\n\n\nIV.\n\n Now the New Year reviving old Desires,\n The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires,\n Where the WHITE HAND OF MOSES on the Bough\n Puts out, and Jesus from the Ground suspires.\n\n\nV.\n\n Iram indeed is gone with all its Rose,\n And Jamshyd's Sev'n-ring'd Cup where no one knows;\n But still the Vine her ancient Ruby yields,\n And still a Garden by the Water blows.\n\n\nVI.\n\n And David's Lips are lock't; but in divine\n High piping Pehlevi, with \u00abWine! Wine! Wine!\n _Red_ Wine!\u00bb--the Nightingale cries to the Rose\n That yellow Cheek of her's to incarnadine.\n\n\nVII.\n\n Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring\n The Winter Garment of Repentance fling:\n The Bird of Time has but a little way\n To fly--and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.\n\n\nVIII.\n\n And look--a thousand Blossoms with the Day\n Woke--and a thousand scatter'd into Clay:\n And this first Summer Month that brings the Rose\n Shall take Jamshyd and Kaikobad away.\n\n\nIX.\n\n But come with old Khayyam, and leave the Lot\n Of Kaikobad and Kaikhosru forgot:\n Let Rustum lay about him as he will,\n Or Hatim Tai cry Supper--heed them not.\n\n\nX.\n\n With me along some Strip of Herbage strown,\n That just divides the desert from the sown,\n Where name of Slave and Sultan scarce is known,\n And pity Sultan Mahmud on his Throne.\n\n\nXI.\n\n Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,\n A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse--and Thou\n Beside me singing in the Wilderness--\n And Wilderness is Paradise enow.\n\n\nXII.\n\n \u00abHow sweet is mortal Sovranty!\u00bb--think some:\n Others--\u00abHow blest the Paradise to come!\u00bb\n Ah, take the Cash in hand and waive the Rest;\n Oh, the brave Music of a _distant_ Drum!\n\n\nXIII.\n\n Look to the Rose that blows about us--\u00abLo,\n Laughing,\u00bb she says, \u00abinto the World I blow:\n At once the silken Tassel of my Purse\n Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw.\u00bb\n\n\nXIV.\n\n The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon\n Turns Ashes--or it prospers; and anon,\n Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face\n Lighting a little Hour or two--is gone.\n\n\nXV.\n\n And those who husbanded the Golden Grain,\n And those who flung it to the Winds like Rain,\n Alike to no such aureate Earth are turn'd\n As, buried once, Men want dug up again.\n\n\nXVI.\n\n Think, in this batter'd Caravanserai\n Whose Doorways are alternate Night and Day,\n How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp\n Abode his Hour or two, and went his way.\n\n\nXVII.\n\n They say the Lion and the Lizard keep\n The Courts where Jamshyd gloried and drank deep;\n And Bahram, that great Hunter--the Wild Ass\n Stamps o'er his Head, and he lies fast asleep.\n\n\nXVIII.\n\n I sometimes think that never blows so red\n The Rose as where some buried C\u00e6sar bled;\n That every Hyacinth the Garden wears\n Dropt in its Lap from some once lovely Head.\n\n\nXIX.\n\n And this delightful Herb whose tender Green\n Fledges the River's Lip on which we lean--\n Ah, lean upon it lightly! for who knows\n From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen!\n\n\nXX.\n\n Ah, my Belov\u00e9d, fill the Cup that clears\n TO-DAY of past Regrets and future Fears--\n _To-morrow_?--Why, To-morrow I may be\n Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n Thousand Years.\n\n\nXXI.\n\n Lo! some we loved, the loveliest and best\n That Time and Fate of all their Vintage prest,\n Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before,\n And one by one crept silently to Rest.\n\n\nXXII.\n\n And we, that now make merry in the Room\n They left, and Summer dresses in new Bloom,\n Ourselves must we beneath the Couch of Earth\n Descend, ourselves to make a Couch--for whom?\n\n\nXXIII.\n\n Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,\n Before we too into the Dust descend;\n Dust into Dust, and under Dust, to lie,\n Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and--sans End!\n\n\nXXIV.\n\n Alike for those who for TO-DAY prepare,\n And those that after a TO-MORROW stare,\n A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries\n \u00abFools! your Reward is neither Here nor There!\u00bb\n\n\nXXV.\n\n Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd\n Of the Two Worlds so learnedly, are thrust\n Like foolish Prophets forth; their Words to Scorn\n Are scatter'd and their Mouths are stopt with Dust.\n\n\nXXVI.\n\n Oh, come with old Khayyam, and leave the Wise\n To talk; one thing is certain, that Life flies;\n One thing is certain, and the Rest is Lies;\n The Flower that once has blown for ever dies.\n\n\nXXVII.\n\n Myself when young did eagerly frequent\n Doctor and Saint, and heard great Argument\n About it and about: but evermore\n Came out by the same Door as in I went.\n\n\nXXVIII.\n\n With them the Seed of Wisdom did I sow,\n And with my own hand labour'd it to grow:\n And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd--\n \u00abI came like Water, and like Wind I go.\u00bb\n\n\nXXIX.\n\n Into this Universe, and _why_ not knowing,\n Nor _whence_, like Water willy-nilly flowing:\n And out of it, as Wind along the Waste,\n I know not _whither_, willy-nilly blowing.\n\n\nXXX.\n\n What, without asking, hither hurried _whence?_\n And, without asking, _whither_ hurried hence!\n Another and another Cup to drown\n The Memory of this Impertinence!\n\n\nXXXI.\n\n Up from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gate\n I rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate,\n And many Knots unravel'd by the Road;\n But not the Knot of Human Death and Fate.\n\n\nXXXII.\n\n There was a Door to which I found no Key:\n There was a Veil past which I could not see\n Some little Talk awhile of ME and THEE\n There seem'd--and then no more of THEE and ME.\n\n\nXXXIII.\n\n Then to the rolling Heav'n itself I cried,\n Asking, \u00abWhat Lamp had Destiny to guide\n Her little Children stumbling in the Dark?\u00bb\n And--\u00abA blind Understanding!\u00bb Heav'n replied.\n\n\nXXXIV.\n\n Then to this earthen Bowl did I adjourn\n My Lip the secret Well of Life to learn:\n And Lip to Lip it murmur'd--\u00abWhile you live\n Drink!--for once dead you never shall return.\u00bb\n\n\nXXXV.\n\n I think the Vessel, that with fugitive\n Articulation answer'd, once did live,\n And merry-make; and the cold Lip I kiss'd\n How many Kisses might it take--and give!\n\n\nXXXVI.\n\n For in the Market-place, one Dusk of Day,\n I watch'd the Potter thumping his wet Clay:\n And with its all obliterated Tongue\n It murmur'd--\u00abGently, Brother, gently, pray!\u00bb\n\n\nXXXVII.\n\n Ah, fill the Cup:--what boots it to repeat\n How Time is slipping underneath our Feet:\n Unborn TO-MORROW, and dead YESTERDAY,\n Why fret about them if TO-DAY be sweet!\n\n\nXXXVIII.\n\n One Moment in Annihilation's Waste,\n One Moment, of the Well of Life to taste--\n The Stars are setting and the Caravan\n Starts for the Dawn of Nothing--Oh, make haste!\n\n\nXXXIX.\n\n How long, how long, in infinite Pursuit\n Of This and That endeavour and dispute?\n Better be merry with the fruitful Grape\n Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit.\n\n\nXL.\n\n You know, my Friends, how long since in my House\n For a new Marriage I did make Carouse:\n Divorced old barren Reason from my Bed,\n And took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse.\n\n\nXLI.\n\n For \u00abIS\u00bb and \u00abIS-NOT\u00bb though _with_ Rule and Line\n And \u00abUP-AND-DOWN\u00bb _without_, I could define,\n I yet in all I only cared to know,\n Was never deep in anything but--Wine.\n\n\nXLII.\n\n And lately, by the Tavern Door agape,\n Came stealing through the Dusk an Angel Shape\n Bearing a Vessel on his Shoulder; and\n He bid me taste of it; and 'twas--the Grape!\n\n\nXLIII.\n\n The Grape that can with Logic absolute\n The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects confute:\n The subtle Alchemist that in a Trice\n Life's leaden Metal into Gold transmute.\n\n\nXLIV.\n\n The mighty Mahmud, the victorious Lord,\n That all the misbelieving and black Horde\n Of Fears and Sorrows that infest the Soul\n Scatters and slays with his enchanted Sword.\n\n\nXLV.\n\n But leave the Wise to wrangle, and with me\n The Quarrel of the Universe let be:\n And, in some corner of the Hubbub coucht,\n Make Game of that which makes as much of Thee.\n\n\nXLVI.\n\n For in and out, above, about, below,\n 'Tis nothing but a Magic Shadow-show,\n Play'd in a Box whose Candle is the Sun,\n Round which we Phantom Figures come and go.\n\n\nXLVII.\n\n And if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press,\n End in the Nothing all Things end in--Yes--\n Then fancy while Thou art, Thou art but what\n Thou shalt be--Nothing--Thou shalt not be less.\n\n\nXLVIII.\n\n While the Rose blows along the River Brink,\n With old Khayyam the Ruby Vintage drink:\n And when the Angel with his darker Draught\n Draws up to Thee--take that, and do not shrink.\n\n\nXLIX.\n\n 'Tis all a Chequer-board of Nights and Days\n Where Destiny with Men for Pieces plays:\n Hither and thither moves, and mates, and slays,\n And one by one back in the Closet lays.\n\n\nL.\n\n The Ball no Question makes of Ayes and Noes,\n But Right or Left as strikes the Player goes;\n And He that toss'd Thee down into the Field,\n _He_ knows about it all--HE knows--HE knows!\n\n\nLI.\n\n The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,\n Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit\n Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,\n Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.\n\n\nLII.\n\n And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky,\n Whereunder crawling coop't we live and die,\n Lift not thy hands to _It_ for help--for It\n Rolls impotently on as Thou or I.\n\n\nLIII.\n\n With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man's knead,\n And then of the Last Harvest sow'd the Seed\n Yea, the first Morning of Creation wrote\n What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.\n\n\nLIV.\n\n I tell Thee this--When, starting from the Goal,\n Over the shoulders of the flaming Foal\n Of Heav'n Parwin and Mushtara they flung,\n In my predestined Plot of Dust and Soul\n\n\nLV.\n\n The Vine had struck a Fibre; which about\n If clings my Being--let the Sufi flout;\n Of my Base Metal may be filed a Key,\n That shall unlock the Door he howls without,\n\n\nLVI.\n\n And this I know: whether the one True Light,\n Kindle to Love, or Wrath consume me quite,\n One glimpse of It within the Tavern caught\n Better than in the Temple lost outright.\n\n\nLVII.\n\n Oh, Thou, who didst with Pitfall and with Gin\n Beset the Road I was to wander in,\n Thou wilt not with Predestination round\n Enmesh me, and impute my Fall to Sin?\n\n\nLVIII.\n\n Oh, Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make,\n And who with Eden didst devise the Snake;\n For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man\n Is blacken'd, Man's Forgiveness give--and take\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n\n\nKUZA-NAMA\n\n\nLIX.\n\n Listen again. One evening at the Close\n Of Ramazan, ere the better Moon arose,\n In that old Potter's Shop I stood alone\n With the clay Population round in Rows.\n\n\nLX.\n\n And, strange to tell, among that Earthen Lot\n Some could articulate, while others not:\n And suddenly one more impatient cried--\n \u00abWho _is_ the Potter, pray, and who the Pot?\u00bb\n\n\nLXI.\n\n Then said another--\u00abSurely not in vain\n My substance from the common Earth was ta'en,\n That he who subtly wrought me into Shape\n Should stamp me back to common Earth again.\u00bb\n\n\nLXII.\n\n Another said--\u00abWhy, ne'er a peevish Boy,\n Would break the Bowl from which he drank in Joy;\n Shall He that _made_ the Vessel in pure Love\n And Fancy, in an after Rage destroy!\u00bb\n\n\nLXIII.\n\n None answer'd this; but after Silence spake\n A vessel of a more ungainly Make:\n \u00abThey sneer at me for leaning all awry;\n What! did the Hand then of the Potter shake?\u00bb\n\n\nLXIV.\n\n Said one--\u00abFolks of a surly Tapster tell,\n And daub his Visage with the smoke of Hell;\n They talk of some strict Testing of us--Pish!\n He's a Good Fellow, and 'twill all be well.\u00bb\n\n\nLXV.\n\n Then said another with a long-drawn Sigh,\n \u00abMy Clay with long oblivion is gone dry:\n But, fill me with the old familiar Juice,\n Methinks I might recover by-and-bye!\u00bb\n\n\nLXVI.\n\n So while the Vessels one by one were speaking,\n One spied the little Crescent all were seeking:\n And then they jogg'd each other, \u00abBrother, Brother!\n Hark to the Porter's Shoulder-knot a creaking!\u00bb\n\n * * * * *\n\nLXVII.\n\n Ah, with the Grape my fading Life provide,\n And wash my Body whence the Life has died,\n And in a Windingsheet of Vine-leaf wrapt,\n So bury me by some sweet Garden-side.\n\n\nLXVIII.\n\n That ev'n my buried Ashes such a Snare\n Of Perfume shall fling up into the Air,\n As not a True Believer passing by\n But shall be overtaken unaware.\n\n\nLXIX.\n\n Indeed the Idols I have loved so long\n Have done my Credit in Men's Eye much wrong:\n Have drown'd my Honour in a shallow Cup,\n And sold my Reputation for a Song.\n\n\nLXX.\n\n Indeed, indeed, Repentance oft before\n I swore--but was I sober when I swore?\n And then and then came Spring, and Rose-in-hand\n My thread-bare Penitence apieces tore.\n\n\nLXXI.\n\n And much as Wine has play'd the Infidel,\n And robb'd me of my Robe of Honour--well,\n I often wonder what the Vintners buy\n One half so precious as the Goods they sell.\n\n\nLXXII.\n\n Alas, that Spring should vanish with the Rose!\n That Youth's sweet-scented Manuscript should close!\n The nightingale that in the Branches sang,\n Ah, whence, and whither flown again, who knows!\n\n\nLXXIII.\n\n Ah, Love! could thou and I with Fate conspire\n To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,\n Would not we shatter it to bits--and then\n Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!\n\n\nLXXIV.\n\n Ah, Moon of my Delight who know'st no wane,\n The Moon of Heav'n is rising once again:\n How oft hereafter rising shall she look\n Through this same Garden after me--in vain!\n\n\nLXXV.\n\n And when Thyself with shining Foot shall pass\n Among the Guests Star-scatter'd on the Grass,\n And in thy joyous Errand reach the Spot\n Where I made one--turn down an empty Glass!\n\n TAMAM SHUD.\n\n\n\n\nNOTES.\n\n\n(Stanza II.) The \u00ab_False Dawn_\u00bb; _Subhi kazib_, a transient Light on the\nHorizon about an hour before the _Subhi sadik_, or True Dawn; a\nwell-known Phenomenon in the East.\n\n(IV.) New Year. Beginning with the Vernal Equinox, it must be\nremembered; and (howsoever the old Solar Year is practically superseded\nby the clumsy _Lunar_ Year that dates from the Mohammedan Hegira) still\ncommemorated by a Festival that is said to have been appointed by the\nvery Jamshyd whom Omar so often talks of, and whose yearly Calendar he\nhelped to rectify.\n\n\u00abThe sudden approach and rapid advance of the Spring,\u00bb says Mr.\nBinning,[13] \u00abare very striking. Before the Snow is well off the Ground,\nthe Trees burst into Blossom, and the Flowers start forth from the Soil.\nAt _Now Rooz_ [_their_ New Year's Day] the Snow was lying in patches on\nthe Hills and in the shaded Valleys, while the Fruit-trees in the\nGardens were budding beautifully, and green Plants and Flowers springing\nup on the Plains on every side--\n\n 'And on old Hyems' Chin and icy Crown\n An odorous Chaplet of sweet Summer buds\n Is, as in mockery, set'--\n\nAmong the Plants newly appeared I recognised some old Acquaintances I\nhad not seen for many a Year: among these, two varieties of the\nThistle--a coarse species of Daisy like the 'Horse-gowan'--red and white\nClover--the Dock--the blue Corn-flower--and that vulgar Herb the\nDandelion rearing its yellow crest on the Banks of the Water-courses.\u00bb\nThe Nightingale was not yet heard, for the Rose was not yet blown; but\nan almost identical Blackbird and Wood-pecker helped to make up\nsomething of a North-country Spring.\n\n\u00abThe White Hand of Moses.\u00bb Exodus iv. 6; where Moses draws forth his\nHand--not, according to the Persians, \u00ab_leprous as Snow,_\u00bb --but\n_white_, as our May-blossom in Spring perhaps. According to them also\nthe Healing Power of Jesus resided in His Breath.\n\n(V.) Iram, planted by King Shaddad, and now sunk somewhere in the Sands\nof Arabia. Jamshyd's Seven-ring'd Cup was typical of the 7 Heavens, 7\nPlanets, 7 Seas, etc., and was a _Divining Cup_.\n\n(VI.) _Pehlevi_, the old Heroic _Sanskrit_ of Persia. Hafiz also speaks\nof the Nightingale's _Pehlevi_, which did not change with the People's.\n\nI am not sure if the fourth line refers to the Red Rose looking sickly,\nor to the Yellow Rose that ought to be Red; Red, White, and Yellow Roses\nall common in Persia. I think that Southey in his \u00abCommon-Place Book,\u00bb\nquotes from some Spanish author about the Rose being White till 10\no'clock; \u00ab_Rosa Perfecta_\u00bb at 2; and \u00ab_perfecta incarnada_\u00bb at 5.\n\n(X.) Rustum, the \u00abHercules\u00bb of Persia, and Zal his Father, whose\nexploits are among the most celebrated in the Shahnama. Hatim Tai, a\nwell-known type of Oriental generosity.\n\n(XIII.) A Drum--beaten outside a Palace.\n\n(XIV.) That is, the Rose's Golden Centre.\n\n(XVIII.) Persepolis: call'd also _Takht.i-Jamshyd_--THE THRONE OF\nJAMSHYD, \u00ab_King Splendid,_\u00bb of the mythical _Peshdadian_ Dynasty, and\nsupposed (according to the Shahnama) to have been founded and built by\nhim. Others refer it to the Work of the Genie King, Jan Ibn Jan--who\nalso built the Pyramids--before the time of Adam.\n\nBAHRAM GUR--_Bahram of the Wild Ass_--a Sassanian Sovereign--had also\nhis Seven Castles (like the King of Bohemia!) each of a different\nColour; each with a Royal Mistress within; each of whom tells him a\nStory, as told in one of the most famous Poems of Persia, written by\nAmir Khusraw: all these Seven also figuring (according to Eastern\nMysticism) the Seven Heavens; and perhaps the Book itself that Eighth,\ninto which the mystical Seven transcend, and within which they revolve.\nThe Ruins of Three of those Towers are yet shown by the Peasantry; as\nalso the swamp in which Bahram sunk like the Master of Ravenswood while\npursuing his _Gur_.\n\n The Palace that to Heav'n his pillars threw,\n And Kings the forehead on his threshold drew--\n I saw the solitary Ringdove there,\n And \u00abCoo, coo, coo,\u00bb she cried; and \u00abCoo, coo, coo.\u00bb\n\nThis Quatrain Mr. Binning found, among several of Hafiz and others,\ninscribed by some stray hand among the ruins of Persepolis. The\nRingdove's ancient _Pehlevi Coo, Coo, Coo_, signifies also in Persian,\n\u00ab_Where? Where? Where?_\u00bb In Attar's \u00abBird-parliament\u00bb she is reproved by\nthe Leader of the Birds for sitting still, and for ever harping on that\none note of lamentation for her lost Yusuf.\n\nApropos of Omar's Red Roses in Stanza xix., I am reminded of an old\nEnglish superstition, that our Anemone Pulsatilla, or purple \u00abPasque\nFlower\u00bb (which grows plentifully about the Fleam Dyke, near Cambridge),\ngrows only where Danish blood has been spilt.\n\n(XXI.) A thousand years to each Planet.\n\n(XXXI.) Saturn, Lord of the Seventh Heaven.\n\n(XXXII.) ME-AND-THEE: some dividual Existence or Personality distinct\nfrom the Whole.\n\n(XXXVII.) One of the Persian Poets--Attar, I think--has a pretty story\nabout this. A thirsty Traveller dips his hand into a Spring of Water to\ndrink from. By and by comes another who draws up and drinks from an\nearthen Bowl, and then departs, leaving his Bowl behind him. The first\nTraveller takes it up for another draught; but is surprised to find that\nthe same Water which had tasted sweet from his own hand tastes bitter\nfrom the earthen Bowl. But a Voice--from Heaven, I think--tells him the\nclay from which the Bowl is made was once _Man_; and, into whatever\nshape renewed, can never lose the bitter flavour of Mortality.\n\n(XXXIX.) The custom of throwing a little Wine on the ground before\ndrinking still continues in Persia, and perhaps generally in the East.\nMons. Nicolas considers it \u00ab_un signe de lib\u00e9ralit\u00e9, et en m\u00eame temps un\navertissement que le buveur doit vider sa coupe jusqu' \u00e0 la derni\u00e8re\ngoutte_.\u00bb Is it not more likely an ancient Superstition; a Libation to\npropitiate Earth, or make her an Accomplice in the illicit Revel? Or,\nperhaps, to divert the Jealous Eye by some sacrifice of superfluity, as\nwith the Ancients of the West? With Omar we see something more is\nsignified; the precious Liquor is not lost, but sinks into the ground to\nrefresh the dust of some poor Wine-worshipper foregone.\n\nThus Hafiz, copying Omar in so many ways: \u00abWhen thou drinkest Wine pour\na draught on the ground. Wherefore fear the Sin which brings to another\nGain?\u00bb\n\n(XLIII.) According to one beautiful Oriental Legend, Azrael accomplishes\nhis mission by holding to the nostril an Apple from the Tree of Life.\n\nThis and the two following Stanzas would have been withdrawn, as\nsomewhat _de trop_, from the Text, but for advice which I least like to\ndisregard.\n\n(LI.) Prom Mah to Mahi; from Fish to Moon.\n\n(LVI.) A Jest, of course, at his Studies. A curious mathematical\nQuatrain of Omar's has been pointed out to me; the more curious because\nalmost exactly parallel'd by some Verses of Bishop Donne's, that are\nquoted in Izaak Walton's Lives! Here is Omar: \u00abYou and I are the image\nof a pair of compasses; though we have two heads (sc. our _feet_) we\nhave one body; when we have fixed the centre for our circle, we bring\nour heads (sc. feet) together at the end.\u00bb Dr. Donne:--\n\n If we be two, we two are so\n As stiff twin-compasses are two;\n Thy Soul, the fixt foot, makes no show\n To move, but does if the other do.\n\n And though thine in the centre sit,\n Yet when my other far does roam,\n Thine leans and hearkens after it,\n And grows erect as mine comes home.\n\n Such thou must be to me, who must\n Like the other foot obliquely run;\n Thy firmness makes my circle just,\n And me to end where I begun.\n\n(LIX.) The Seventy-two Religions supposed to divide the World,\n_including_ Islamism, as some think: but others not.\n\n(LX.) Alluding to Sultan Mahmud's Conquest of India and its dark people.\n\n(LXVIII.) _Fanusi khiyal_, a Magic-lantern still used in India; the\ncylindrical Interior being painted with various Figures, and so lightly\npoised and ventilated as to revolve round the lighted Candle within.\n\n(LXX.) A very mysterious Line in the Original:--\n\n _O danad O danad O danad O----_\n\nbreaking off something like our Wood-pigeon's Note, which she is said to\ntake up just where she left off.\n\n(LXXV.) Parwin and Mushtari--The Pleiads and Jupiter.\n\n(LXXXVII.) This Relation of Pot and Potter to Man and his Maker figures\nfar and wide in the Literature of the World, from the time of the Hebrew\nProphets to the present; when it may finally take the name of \u00abPot\ntheism,\u00bb by which Mr. Carlyle ridiculed Sterling's \u00abPantheism.\u00bb _My_\nSheikh, whose knowledge flows in from all quarters, writes to me--\n\n\u00abApropos of old Omar's Pots, did I ever tell you the sentence I found in\nBishop Pearson on the Creed? 'Thus are we wholly at the disposal of His\nwill, and our present and future condition framed and ordered by His\nfree, but wise and just, decrees. _Hath not the potter power over the\nclay, of the same lump to make one vessel unto honour, and another unto\ndishonour?_ (Rom. ix. 21.) And can that earth-artificer have a freer\npower over his _brother potsherd_ (both being made of the same metal),\nthan God hath over him, who, by the strange fecundity of His omnipotent\npower, first made the clay out of nothing, and then him out of that?'\u00bb\n\nAnd again--from a very different quarter--\u00abI had to refer the other day\nto Aristophanes, and came by chance on a curious Speaking-pot story in\nthe _Vesp\u00e6_, which I had quite forgotten.\n\n philokleon. Akoue me pheug'\u00b7 en Subarei gyne pote 1. 1435\n kateax' echinon.\n\n Kategoros. Taut' ego martyromai.\n\n Phi. Oychinos oun echon tin' epemartyrato\u00b7\n Eith' e Sybaritis eipen, ei nai tan koran\n ten martyrian tauten easas, en tachei\n epidesmon epria, noun an eiches pleiona.\n\n\u00abThe Pot calls a bystander to be a witness to his bad treatment. The\nwoman says, 'If, by Proserpine, instead of all this \u00abtestifying\u00bb (comp.\nCuddie and his mother in \u00abOld Mortality!\u00bb) you would buy yourself a\nrivet, it would show more sense in you!' The Scholiast explains\n_echinus_ as aggos ti ek keramon.\u00bb\n\nOne more illustration for the oddity's sake from the \u00abAutobiography of a\nCornish Rector,\u00bb by the late James Hamley Tregenna. 1871.\n\n\u00abThere was one old Fellow in our Company--he was so like a Figure in the\n'Pilgrim's Progress' that Richard always called him the 'ALLEGORY,' with\na long white beard--a rare Appendage in those days--and a Face the\ncolour of which seemed to have been baked in, like the Faces one used to\nsee on Earthenware Jugs. In our Country-dialect Earthenware is called\n'_Clome_'; so the Boys of the Village used to shout out after him--'Go\nback to the Potter, old Clome-face, and get baked over again.' For the\n'Allegory,' though shrewd enough in most things, had the reputation of\nbeing _saift-baked_, _i.e._, of weak intellect.\u00bb\n\n(XC.) At the Close of the Fasting Month, Ramazan (which makes the\nMusulman unhealthy and unamiable), the first Glimpse of the New Moon\n(who rules their division of the Year) is looked for with the utmost\nAnxiety, and hailed with Acclamation. Then it is that the Porter's Knot\nmay be heard--toward the _Cellar_. Omar has elsewhere a pretty Quatrain\nabout the same Moon--\n\n \u00abBe of Good Cheer--the sullen Month will die,\n And a young Moon requite us by and by:\n Look how the Old one, meagre, bent, and wan\n With Age and Fast, is fainting from the Sky!\u00bb\n\n\n\n\n AN ANALYSIS OF\n\n EDWARD FITZGERALD'S TRANSLATION\n\n OF THE\n\n QUATRAINS OF OMAR KHAYYAM\n\n (_Fifth Edition_)\n\n By EDWARD HERON-ALLEN\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nThe object with which this volume has been compiled has been to set at\nrest, once and for ever, the vexed question of how far Edward\nFitzGerald's incomparable poem may be regarded as a translation of the\nPersian originals, how far as an adaptation, and how far as an original\nwork. In the Introduction to my recently published translation of the\nOuseley MS. in the Bodleian Library at Oxford, and more particularly in\nthe Essay which terminates the second edition of that work, I have dwelt\nat considerable length upon the history of Edward FitzGerald's poem and\nthe influences of various Oriental works which are traceable in it. As\nit is doubtful whether the present volume will reach the hands of, or at\nany rate be critically considered by, any students of the poem who have\nnot already had access to my former work, I do not think that it would\nbe either expedient or useful to repeat in this place the information\nwhich is collected there, but a short history of the major portion of\nEdward FitzGerald's material is necessary, for the purpose of showing\nwhy this question of translation, adaptation, or original composition\nshould have been a question open to lengthy argument, and why it has\nbeen impossible to set it at rest until the present time, when forty\nyears have elapsed since first Edward FitzGerald's poem attracted the\nattention of those great scholars and poets who rescued it, as recounted\nin the threadbare anecdote, from the oblivion of the penny box.\n\nThe influence of the Ouseley MS. upon the poem forms the subject of the\nvolume to which I have referred, and, save in so far as it recurs in the\nparallels which give excuse for the present work, may be dismissed, but\nthe doubts which have sprung up as to the extent to which Edward\nFitzGerald took, as his editor, Mr. Aldis Wright, says, \u00abgreat liberties\nwith the original,\u00bb have arisen in consequence of the vicissitudes which\nhave befallen the rest of the material from which the poet worked during\nthe construction of his first edition. We know that Prof. Cowell made a\ncopy of the Ouseley MS. for Edward FitzGerald just before he went to\nIndia in August, 1856. In another letter he says \u00abI got a copy made for\nhim from the one MS. in the Bengal Asiatic Society's Library at Calcutta\nsoon after I arrived in November, 1856. It reached FitzGerald June 14th,\n1857, as I learn by a note in his writing. Some time after this I sent\nhim a copy of that rare Calcutta printed edition which I got from my\nMunshi.\u00bb To possess oneself therefore of full information as to what\nmaterial Edward FitzGerald really worked from in making the original\nedition of his poem, it was necessary to consult, line by line, and word\nby word, the Calcutta MS. (noted as No. 1548 in the Bengal Asiatic\nSociety's Library) and the Calcutta _printed_ edition of 1836,--in\naddition, of course, to the Ouseley MS. Prof. Cowell most generously\nplaced at my disposal his copy of the Calcutta MS., but, as he himself\nhas recorded, the copy was made by an inferior scribe in a hand which is\nexceedingly difficult to read. I therefore communicated with Mr. A.T.\nPringle, Director of Indian Records in the Home Department at Calcutta,\nhimself a keen and critical student of Omar Khayyam, with a view to\ngetting either a photographic reproduction, or a clean copy of this MS.\nmade for me. Careful search and widely spread enquiry brought to light\nthe fact that the MS. was lost, stolen, or strayed, so that Prof.\nCowell's copy was the only record left of this portion of Edward\nFitzGerald's material. This copy I sent out to India, and had copied by\na good writer, a copy being made at the same time to replace that which\nhad been stolen.\n\nI next addressed myself to the discovery of \u00abthat rare Calcutta\n_printed_ edition,\u00bb of whose existence, after searching in vain every\nEuropean State library and many others, and every library in India of\nwhich I could learn, I began to have grave doubts, thinking that Prof.\nCowell had inadvertently confused it with an edition _lithographed_\nsimultaneously at Calcutta and Teheran in 1836. In the summer, however,\nwhen I had given up all hope, one of Mr. Pringle's clerks picked up a\ncopy of the long sought book in the Bazar at Calcutta, printed from type\nat Calcutta in 1836. A circumstance that greatly adds to the interest of\nthis discovery, whilst at the same time it very greatly lessened my\nlabours, lies in the fact that this edition is evidently printed from\nthe lost Calcutta MS. itself, both introduction and quatrains being\nidentical in readings and sequence. A few quatrains, including the\nrepetitions, forming part of the MS. and nearly all those written in the\nmargins of the MS. are omitted, but nearly all of these are added as an\nappendix to the book, the printer explaining in a short note that they\nwere found in a _bayaz_ (or book of extracts), and were added in that\nplace instead of in their _diwan_ (or alphabetical) order on account of\ntheir more than ordinarily antinomian tendency. A very interesting\nquestion arises hereon, whether these latter were printed into the book\nfrom the margins of the MS. after being purposely or accidentally\nomitted, _or_ whether they were written on to the margin of the MS. from\nthis book at some date between 1836 and 1856. I think that the former is\nthe more likely explanation, but in the absence of the MS. this question\ncannot be solved.\n\nI find myself therefore in the interesting position of having the whole\nof FitzGerald's material before me; and though (so perfectly did Edward\nFitzGerald identify himself with his author's habit of mind) many other\nMSS. contain quatrains that closely resemble his marvellous paraphrase,\nthere is nothing written by or attributed to Omar Khayyam which served\nFitzGerald for inspiration in making his first edition, other than what\nis to be found in the three, or rather two, texts above referred to. I\nhave spoken already (and at length, in the Terminal Essay to my former\nvolume) of the influences exerted by other Oriental poets upon his work,\nand especially that of the Mantik ut-tair, or Parliament of Birds of\nFerid ud din Attar; where it was direct or exclusive I have set it down\nin the parallels which follow. The result of my observations may be\nsummarised as follows:\n\nOf Edward FitzGerald's quatrains, forty-nine are faithful and beautiful\nparaphrases of single quatrains to be found in the Ouseley or Calcutta\nMSS., or both.[14]\n\nForty-four are traceable to more than one quatrain, and therefore may be\ntermed \u00abcomposite\u00bb quatrains.\n\nTwo are inspired by quatrains found by FitzGerald only in Nicolas' text.\n\nTwo are quatrains reflecting the whole spirit of the original poem.\n\nTwo are traceable exclusively to the influence of the Mantik ut-tair of\nFerid ud din Attar.\n\nTwo quatrains primarily inspired by Omar were influenced by the Odes of\nHafiz.\n\nAnd three, which appeared only in the first and second editions and were\nafterwards suppressed by Edward FitzGerald himself, are not--so far as a\ncareful search enables me to judge--attributable to any lines of the\noriginal texts. Other authors may have inspired them, but their\nidentification is not useful in this case.\n\nThe \u00abfillip,\u00bb so to speak, given to FitzGerald's interest in the\nruba'iyat, by the publication of Monsieur J.B. Nicolas' text and\ntranslation of 464 \u00ab_Les Quatrains de Kh\u00e8yam_\u00bb (Paris, 1867), must not\nbe lost sight of, and may be held responsible for many, if not most of\nthe variations and additions that differentiate the second, third, and\nfourth editions from the first. This volume, as FitzGerald himself\nrecords in his Introduction to the second and subsequent editions,\n\u00abreminded him of several things and instructed him in others.\u00bb Two of\nFitzGerald's later quatrains at least (Nos. 46 and 98) come from that\ntext, and these I have never seen in any MS. text; and, in seeking the\nparallels to the present volume, I have collated exactly 5,235 ruba'iyat\nin the original Persian. I have appended to every Persian ruba'i in the\nfollowing pages, references to the texts in which I have found the same\nruba'i, in the identical form, or more or less varied, and it will be\nobserved that, for the most part, the ruba'iyat which inspired\nFitzGerald are those which have so appealed to the Oriental mind as to\nbe represented in nearly all the MSS. and texts under examination. The\nOuseley MS. being the first text that occupied FitzGerald's attention,\nwhere his inspirational lines occur both in that MS. and the Calcutta\nMS., I have given the Ouseley MS. version, noting any important\nvariations to be found in the Calcutta MS. It will be observed that\nFitzGerald's tendency, after the second edition, was to eliminate\nquatrains which were merely suggested by the general tone and sentiment\nof the original poem, and not the reflection or translation of\nparticular and identifiable ruba'iyat. The reader is especially\nrecommended, when studying these parallels, to turn to the corresponding\nquatrain in the first edition, for FitzGerald often diverged further\nfrom the originals in making his subsequent variations--notably, for\ninstance, in the first and forty-eighth quatrains.\n\nWith regard to my own translations of the originals in the following\npages, I may remark that the excessive baldness of the translation is\nintentional, for I deemed it better to put before the lovers of\nFitzGerald's poem the closest and most unpolished English rendering,\nrather than to attempt to clothe the literal meaning of the originals in\ngraceful phraseology.\n\nI desire to record in this place my most cordial thanks, for the\ninvaluable assistance they have given me in the preparation of this\nvolume, to Mr. A.T. Pringle, Professor E.B. Cowell, and Dr. E. Denison\nRoss, and to Mr. Aldis Wright, Edward FitzGerald's literary executor,\nand his publishers Messrs. Macmillan, for their very kind permission to\nreproduce in this volume the poem which has brought it into existence.\n\n EDWARD HERON-ALLEN.\n\n\n\n\nEXPLANATION OF THE REFERENCES IN THE FOLLOWING PARALLELS\n\n\nThe following are the alternative texts and translations referred to in\nthe following parallels:--\n\n O.--The Ouseley MS. No. 140 in the Bodleian Library at Oxford, dated\n A.H. 865 (A.D. 1460), containing 158 ruba'iyat. A facsimile and\n translation with notes, etc., were published by H.S. Nichols, Ltd.\n (London, 1898).\n\n C.--The Calcutta MS. No. 1548 in the Bengal Asiatic Society's\n Library at Calcutta, containing 510 ruba'iyat. The original has been\n lost or stolen, but a copy has been made from the copy made for\n Edward FitzGerald at the instance of Prof. Cowell.\n\n L.--The Lucknow lithograph. The edition referred to is that of A.H.\n 1312 (A.D. 1894), containing 770 ruba'iyat.\n\n W.--The text and metrical translation published by E.H. Whinfield\n (London, Tr\u00fcbner, 1883), containing 500 ruba'iyat.\n\n N.--The text and prose translation published by J.B. Nicolas (Paris,\n Imprimerie Imp\u00e9riale, 1867), containing 464 ruba'iyat.\n\n S.P.--The text lithographed at St. Petersburg, A.H. 1308 (A.D.\n 1888), containing 453 ruba'iyat. Almost identical with N.\n\n B.--A collection of poems lithographed at Bombay, A.H. 1297 (A.D.\n 1880), containing 756 ruba'iyat of Omar. Almost identical with L.\n\n B. ii.--The MS. in the Public Library at Bankipur, dated A.H. 961-2\n (A.D. 1553-4), containing 604 ruba'iyat.\n\n P.--The MS. in the Biblioth\u00e8que Nationale, Paris. Suppl\u00e9ment Persan,\n No. 823, ff. 92-113. Dated A.H. 934 (A.D. 1527), containing 349\n ruba'iyat.\n\n P. ii.--Seven ruba'iyat written upon blank pages of MS. of the Diwan\n of Emad. Dated A.H. 786 (A.D. 1384). Biblioth\u00e8que Nationale, Paris.\n Suppl\u00e9ment Persan, No. 745. The handwriting is of the end of the 9th\n or beginning of the 10th century of the Hijrah.\n\n P. iii.--Six ruba'iyat written in a handwriting of the 11th century\n of the Hijrah, on fol. 104 of a MS. collection of poems.\n Biblioth\u00e8que Nationale, Paris. Suppl\u00e9ment Persan, No. 793.\n\n P. iv.--The MS. in the Biblioth\u00e8que Nationale, Paris. Suppl\u00e9ment\n Persan, No. 826, ff. 391-394. Dated A.H. 937 (A.D. 1530), containing\n 76 ruba'iyat.\n\n P. v.--The MS. in the Biblioth\u00e8que Nationale, Paris. Ancien Fonds.,\n No. 349, ff. 181-210. Dated A.H. 920 (A.D. 1514), containing 213\n ruba'iyat.\n\n T.--The MS. in the Library of the Nawab of Tonk. Apparently copied\n about A.D. 1840 principally from C., containing 369 ruba'iyat.\n\n E.C.--The quatrains translated by Prof. E.B. Cowell in his article\n in the \u00abCalcutta Review,\u00bb No. 59, March, 1858, p. 149.\n\n De T.--The ten quatrains translated from the Ouseley MS. by Garcin\n de Tassy in his \u00ab_Note sur les Ruba'iyat d'Omar Kha\u00efyam._\u00bb (Paris,\n Imprimerie Imp\u00e9riale, 1857.)\n\n V.--The metrical translation by John Payne, published by the Villon\n Society (London, 1898), containing 845 quatrains.\n\n\n\n\nANALYSIS OF EDWARD FITZGERALD'S QUATRAINS\n\n\nI.\n\n Wake! For the Sun, who scatter'd into flight\n The Stars before him from the Field of Night,\n Drives Night along with them from Heav'n, and strikes\n The Sultan's Turret with a Shaft of Light.\n\nThis version of the opening quatrain is gradually evolved through the\nfour editions. The quatrain, which, in the first edition runs:\n\n Awake! for Morning in the Bowl of Night\n Has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight:\n And lo! the Hunter of the East has caught\n The Sultan's Turret in a Noose of Light.\n\nis inspired by C. 134.\n\n The Sun casts the noose of morning upon the roofs,\n Kai Khosru of the day, he throws a stone into the bowl:\n Drink wine! for the Herald of the Dawn, rising up,\n Hurls into the days the cry of \u00abDrink ye!\u00bb\n\n_Ref._:[15]L. 235, B. 232, C. 134, P. 320, T. 138.--W. 233, V. 242.\n\nIt is not surprising that Mr. Aldis Wright, in his editorial note at the\nend of Messrs. Macmillan's definitive edition (London, 1890), states\nthat \u00abthe first stanza is entirely his own,\u00bb for, in this precise form\nthe ruba'i is only to be found in the Calcutta MS. and in a recently\ndiscovered MS. copied largely from it and belonging to the Nawab of\nTonk. The matter rests upon the word \u00abstone\u00bb in the second line. The\nword means \u00abto fling a stone into a cup or pot,\u00bb which is the signal for\n\u00abstriking camp\u00bb among tribes of nomad Arabs. All the other texts I have\nseen read wine for stone which has made the translators (Whinfield and\nPayne) properly render the passage \u00abpours _wine_ into the cup.\u00bb\n\n\nII.\n\n Before the phantom of False morning died,\n Methought a Voice within the Tavern cried,\n \u00abWhen all the Temple is prepared within,\n \u00abWhy nods the drowsy Worshipper outside?\u00bb\n\nThe inspiration for this quatrain is to be found in C. 5:\n\n There came one morning a cry from our tavern:\n \u00abHo! our crazy, tavern-haunting profligate[16]\n \u00abArise! that we may fill the measure with wine,\n \u00abEre they fill up our measure (of life).\u00bb\n\n_Ref._: L. 1, B. 1, C. 5, B. ii. 1, T. 3.--W. 1, N. 1, V. 1.\n\nIn FitzGerald's quatrain there is traceable the influence of one of the\nodes of Hafiz, translated by Prof. Cowell (in \u00abFraser's Magazine,\u00bb\nSeptember, 1854), which he greatly admired. The lines in question run:\n\n The morning dawns and the cloud has woven a canopy,\n The morning draught, my friends, the morning draught!\n It is strange that at such a season\n They shut up the wine tavern! Oh, hasten!\n Have they still shut up the door of the tavern?\n Open, oh thou Keeper of the Gates![17]\n\nThe influence of these lines is carried on into the next quatrain.\n\n\nIII.\n\n And, as the Cock crew, those who stood before\n The Tavern shouted--\u00abOpen then the Door!\n You know how little while we have to stay,\n And, once departed, may return no more.\u00bb\n\nThe inspiration for this quatrain is found in four ruba'iyat of the\nCalcutta MS., viz.: 641, 207 (ll. 3 and 4), 273, 247.\n\n It is the hour for the morning draught, and the cock-crow, O Saki,\n Here are we, and the wine, and the street of the vintners, O Saki,\n What time is this for devotions? Be silent, O Saki,\n Let be the traditions,[18] and drink to the dregs, O Saki.\n\n_Ref._: L. 685, B. 676, C. 461, S.P. 448, B. ii. 599.--W. 483, N. 454,\nV. 737.\n\n Thou must drink wine, and gratify the pleasures of thy heart,\n It is clear that so long (and no longer) thou wilt remain\n in this world.\n\n_Ref._: L. 281, B. 277, C. 207.--V. 285.\n\n O Essence of Delight! Arise, it is the dawn!\n Softly, softly drink wine, and play the harp\n For those who are asleep do not find much,\n And none of those who are gone will ever come back.\n\n_Ref._: L. 431, B. 427, P. 289, C. 273, B. ii. 307, T. 173, P. v.\n163.--N. 235, V. 469.\n\n It is the dawn! Arise, O strange boy!\n Fill up the crystal cup with ruby wine.\n For this moment (of existence) that is lent thee in this\n corner of mortality\n Thou may'st seek long, but thou shalt not find it again.\n\n_Ref._: L. 402, B. 398, P. 224, S.P. 213, C. 247, B. ii. 282, P. iv.\n21.--N. 214, V. 425.\n\n\nIV.\n\n Now the New Year reviving old Desires,\n The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires,\n Where the WHITE HAND OF MOSES on the Bough\n Puts out, and Jesus from the Ground suspires.\n\nThis quatrain is translated from two ruba'iyat in the Ouseley MS., 13\nand 80.\n\n Now that there is a possibility of happiness for the world,\n Every living heart[19] has yearnings towards the desert,\n Upon every bough is the appearance of Moses' hand,\n In every breeze is the exhalation of Jesus' breath.[20]\n\n_Ref._: P. 194, O. 13.--W. 116.\n\n Now is the time when by the spring breezes[21] the world is adorned,\n And in hope of rain it opens its eyes,[22]\n The hands of Moses appear like froth upon the bough,\n And the breath of Jesus comes forth from the earth.\n\n_Ref._: O. 80, L. 272, B. 268, C. 204, S.P. 186, P. 157.--W. 201, N.\n186, V. 276.\n\n\nV.\n\n Iram indeed is gone with all his Rose,\n And Jamshyd's Sev'n-ring'd Cup where no one knows;\n But still a Ruby kindles in the Vine,\n And many a Garden by the Water blows.\n\nThis is a very composite quatrain, which cannot be claimed as a\ntranslation of all, or the main part of any, of the C. or O. quatrains.\nAll the texts, as indeed all Persian poetry, are filled with references\nof which we find an echo here. In the authorities at our disposal,\nJamshyd is referred to in C. 254. The Ruby in the Wine occurs in O. 39,\n87, 149, and in C. 296, 304, 413, and 460. The Garden by the Water\noccurs in O. 151 (C. 415), and in C. 44 and 417. I have never found any\nreference to the Garden of Iram in quatrains attributed to Omar\nKhayyam.[23]\n\n\nVI.\n\n And David's lips are lockt; but in divine\n High-piping Pehlevi, with \u00abWine! Wine! Wine!\n Red Wine!\u00bb--the Nightingale cries to the Rose\n That sallow cheek of hers to 'incarnadine.\n\nThis quatrain (eliminating the reference to David[24]) is translated\nfrom O. 67.\n\n It is a pleasant day, and the weather is neither hot nor cold;\n The rain has washed the dust from the faces of the roses;\n The nightingale in the Pehlevi tongue[25] to the yellow[26] rose\n Cries ever: \u00abThou must drink wine!\u00bb\n\n_Ref._: O. 67, L. 291, B. 287, S.P. 153, P. 230.--W. 174, N. 153, V.\n294.\n\n\nVII.\n\n Come, fill the Cup, and in the fire of Spring\n Your Winter-garment of Repentance fling:\n The Bird of Time has but a little way\n To flutter--and the Bird is on the Wing.\n\nThis is another composite quatrain, and the similarity of its sentiment\nto that of No. 94 (_post_) makes it somewhat difficult to allocate the\nparallels to it. The first two lines come from two quatrains in C. 431\nand 460 (ll. 1 and 2).\n\n Every day I resolve to repent in the evening,\n Repenting of the brimful goblet, and the cup;\n (But) now that the season of roses has come, I cannot grieve,\n Give penitence for repentance[27] in the season of roses, O Lord!\n\n_Ref._: C. 431, L. 655, B. 647, B. ii. 510.--W. 425, V. 704.\n\n The flowers are blooming, bring wine, O Saki,\n Abandon the practices of the zealot, O Saki.\n\n_Ref._: C. 460, L. 684, B. 675, B. ii. 540.--V. 736.\n\nThe image of the flight of time permeates the whole of the quatrains.\nThe precise image that FitzGerald uses in ll. 3 and 4 I find in the 24th\ndistich of the Mantik ut-tair of Ferid ud din Attar.\n\nThe bird of the sky flutters along its appointed path.\n\n\nVIII.*[28]\n\n Whether at Naishapur or Babylon,\n Whether the Cup with sweet or bitter run,\n The Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by drop,\n The Leaves of Life keep falling one by one.\n\nThis quatrain is taken mainly from O. 47 (C. 123). It does not occur in\nthe first edition, and FitzGerald was evidently \u00abreminded of it\u00bb by\nNicolas, in whose reading of the text, alone, the town of Naishapur is\nmentioned instead of Balkh. Balkh and Babylon are constantly\ninterchanged in Persian _belles lettres_.\n\n Since life passes; what is Baghdad and what is Balkh?\n When the cup is full, what matter if it be sweet or bitter?[29]\n Drink wine, for often, after thee and me, this moon\n Will pass on from the last day of the month to the first, and from the\n first to the last.\n\n_Ref._: O. 47, L. 299, B. 226, C. 123, S.P. 105, P. 51, T. 99.--W. 134,\nN. 105, E.C. 2, V. 236.\n\nIf closer reference for line 3 be required, it may be found in N. 18,\nll. 3 and 4.\n\n Whether our Saki holds the neck of the bottle in his hand,\n Or the soul of wine oozes over the rim of the cup.\n\n_Ref._: L. 35, B. 32, S.P. 18.--W. 21, N. 18, V. 33.\n\n\u00abThe leaves of life\u00bb recur constantly either as leaves of a tree, or of\na book. FitzGerald's inspiration comes from C. 377, ll. 1 and 2. (_Vide_\nalso _sub._ No. 9.)\n\n At the moment when I flee from destiny,\n And fall like the leaf of the vine, from the branch.\n\n_Ref._: C. 377, L. 574, B. 567, S.P. 265, B. ii. 353, T. 249.--W. 309,\nN. 266, V. 614.\n\n\nIX.\n\n Each Morn a thousand Roses brings, you say;\n Yes, but where leaves the Rose of Yesterday?\n And this first Summer month that brings the Rose\n Shall take Jamshyd and Kaikobad away.\n\nThis quatrain owes its origin to three separate ruba'iyat, viz.: O. 135\n(ll. 3 and 4) C. 500 (ll. 1 and 2), C. 481 (ll. 3 and 4).\n\n Sit in the shade of the rose, for, by the wind, many roses\n Have been scattered to earth and have become dust.\n\n_Ref._: O. 135, L. 671, B. 663, S.P. 366, B. ii. 483, T. 277.--W. 414,\nN. 370, V. 720.\n\n By the coming of Spring and the return of December[30]\n The leaves of our life are continually folded.\n\n_Ref._: C. 500, L. 745, B. 731, P. 242, S.P. 397, B. ii. 531.--W. 444,\nN. 402, V. 797.\n\n For it has flung to earth a hundred thousand Jams and Kais,[31]\n This coming of the first-summer-month and departing of the\n month December.\n\n_Ref._: C. 481, L. 712, B. 701, S.P. 449, P. 216, B. ii. 603.--W. 484,\nN. 455, V. 764.\n\n\nX.\n\n Well, let it take them! What have we to do\n With Kaikobad the Great, or Kaikhosru?\n Let Zal[32] and Rustum bluster as they will,\n Or Hatim call to supper--heed not you.\n\nThe first two lines of this quatrain echo two fragments from the MSS. O.\n139 (ll. 3 and 4), and C. 57 (ll. 1 and 2).\n\n The cup is a hundred times better than the kingdom of Feridun,[33]\n The tile that covers the jar is better than the crown of Kai Khosru.\n\n_Ref._: O. 136, L. 650, B. 642, S.P. 378, P. 246, B. ii. 511, P. v.\n178.--N. 382, V. 609.\n\n One draught of wine is better than the Empire of Kawus,\n And is better than the Throne of Kobad and the Empire of Tus.\n\n_Ref._: C. 57, L. 122, B. 119, S.P. 61, P. 297.--W. 64, N. 61, V. 121.\n\nThe last two lines are translated from C. 503 (ll. 3 and 4).\n\n Bow not thy neck though Rustum son of Zal be thy foe,\n Be not grateful though Hatim Tai befriend thee.[34]\n\n_Ref._: C. 503, L. 746, B. 732. S.P. 411, P. 150, B. ii. 552, P. iv.\n23.--W. 455, N. 416, V. 798.\n\n\nXI.\n\n With me along the strip of Herbage strown\n That just divides the desert from the sown,\n Where name of Slave and Sultan is forgot--\n And Peace to Mahmud on his golden Throne!\n\n\nXII.\n\n A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,\n A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread--and Thou\n Beside me singing in the Wilderness--\n Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!\n\nThis pair of quatrains must be considered together. They owe their\norigin to O. 155 and O. 149.\n\n If a loaf of wheaten bread be forthcoming,\n A gourd of wine, and a thigh-bone of mutton,\n And then, if thou and I be sitting in the wilderness,--\n That were a joy not within the power of any Sultan.\n\n_Ref._: O. 155, C. 474, L. 697, B. 688, S.P. 442, P. 229, B. ii. 591. T.\n292, P. iv. 24, P. v. 109.--W. 479, N. 448, V. 749.\n\n I desire a flask of ruby wine and a book of verses\n Just enough to keep me alive,[35] and half a loaf is needful,\n And then, that thou and I should sit in the wilderness,\n Is better than the kingdom of a Sultan.\n\n_Ref._: O. 149, S.P. 408.--W. 452, N. 413, E.C. 13.\n\n\nXIII.\n\n Some for the Glories of This World; and some\n Sigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come;\n Ah, take the Cash, and let the Credit go\n Nor heed the rumble of a distant Drum!\n\nThe original of this quatrain is found in O. 34.\n\n They say that the Garden of Eden is pleasant with houris:\n _I_ say that the juice of the grape is pleasant.\n Hold fast this cash and keep thy hand from that credit,\n For the noise of drums, brother, is pleasant from afar.\n\n_Ref._: O. 34, C. 51, L. 95, B. 91, P. iii. 3, P. 323, P. v. 36.--W.\n108, V. 95.\n\nC. 156 is almost identical in sentiment:\n\n They say that there will be heaven and the Fount of Kausar,[36]\n That there, there will be pure wine and honey and sugar,\n Fill up the wine-cup and place it in my hand,\n (For) ready cash is better than a thousand credits.\n\n_Ref._: C. 156, L. 297, B. 293, S.P. 169, B. ii. 223, T. 141.--N. 169,\nV. 300.\n\nC. 288 reproduces the same image, and we have a parallel for ll. 1 and 2\nin ll. 1 and 2 of C. 225.\n\n Mankind are fallen from vain imagining into pride,\n And are consumed in the search after houris and palaces.[37]\n\n_Ref._: C. 225, L. 279, B. 275, S.P. 167, T. 163.--W. 184, N. 167, V.\n283.\n\nO. 40 may also be cited for the closeness of its parallel both to this,\nand to the preceding quatrain:\n\n I know not whether he who fashioned me\n Appointed me to dwell in heaven or in dreadful hell,\n (But) some food, and an adored one, and wine[38] upon the\n green bank of a field--\n All these three are present cash to me: thine be the promised heaven!\n\n_Ref._: O. 40, L. 89, B. 85, C. 107, S.P. 92, T. 84, P. v. 176.--W. 94,\nN. 92, V. 89.\n\n\nXIV.\n\n Look to the blowing Rose about us--\u00abLo,\n Laughing,\u00bb she says, \u00abinto the world I blow,\n At once the silken tassel of my Purse\n Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw.\u00bb\n\nThis quatrain is translated from C. 383\n\n The rose said: I brought a gold-scattering hand,\n Laughing, laughing, have I blown into the world,\n I snatched the noose-string from off the head of my purse\n and I am gone!\n I flung into the world all the ready money that I had.\n\n_Ref._: C. 383 _only_.\n\n\nXV.\n\n And those who husbanded the Golden grain,\n And those who flung it to the winds like Rain,\n Alike to no such aureate Earth are turn'd\n As, buried once, Men want dug up again.\n\nThe inspiration for this quatrain comes from O. 68.\n\n Ere that fate makes an attack upon thy head\n Give orders that they bring thee rose-coloured wine;\n Thou art not treasure, O heedless dunce! that thee\n They hide in the earth and then dig up again.[39]\n\n_Ref._: O. 68, C. 151, L. 277, B. 273, S.P. 156, P. 336, P. v. 11.--W.\n175, N. 156, E.C. 31, V. 281.\n\n\nXVI.\n\n The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon\n Turns Ashes--or it prospers; and anon,\n Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face,\n Lighting a little hour or two--is gone.\n\nThe inspiration for this quatrain is to be found in C. 266.\n\n O heart! Suppose all this world's affairs were within your power,\n And the whole world from end to end as you desire it,\n And then, like snow in the desert, upon its surface\n Resting for two or three days, understand yourself to be gone!\n\n_Ref._: C. 266, L. 420, B. 416, P. 144, B. ii. 260, T. 168.--V 443.\n\n\nXVII.\n\n Think, in this batter'd Caravanserai\n Whose Portals are alternate Night and Day,\n How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp\n Abode his destined Hour, and went his way.\n\nThis quatrain owes its origin to C. 95.\n\n This worn caravanserai which is called the world\n Is the resting-place of the piebald horse of night and day;\n It is a pavilion which has been abandoned by an hundred Jamshyds;\n It is a palace that is the resting-place of an hundred Bahrams.[40]\n\n_Ref._: C. 95, L. 203, B. 200, S.P. 67, P. 120, B. ii. 42, T. 79 and\n357.--W. 70, N. 67, V. 199.\n\n\nXVIII.\n\n They say the Lion and the Lizard keep\n The Courts where Jamshyd gloried and drank deep:\n And Bahram, that great Hunter--the Wild Ass\n Stamps o'er his Head, but cannot break his Sleep.\n\nThe original of this quatrain is C. 99.\n\n In that palace where Bahram grasped the wine-cup;\n The foxes whelp, and the lions take their rest;\n Bahram who was always catching (_gur_) wild asses,--\n To-day behold that the (_gur_) grave has caught Bahram.\n\n_Ref._: C. 99, L. 210, B. 207, S.P. 69, P. 48 and 139, B. ii. 51, T. 82\nand 294, P. iv. 12, P. v. 156.--W. 72, N. 69, V. 205.\n\n\nXIX.\n\n I sometimes think that never blows so red\n The Rose as where some buried C\u00e6sar bled\n That every Hyacinth the Garden wears\n Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head.\n\nThe original of this quatrain is found in O. 43.\n\n Everywhere that there has been a rose or tulip bed,\n It has come from the redness of the blood of a king;\n Every violet shoot that grows from the earth\n Is a mole[41] that was (once) upon the cheek of a beauty.\n\n_Ref._: O. 43, C. 47, L. 110, B. 106, B. ii. 105, T. 304, P. v. 159.--W.\n104, E.C. 4, V. 109.\n\n\nXX.\n\n And this reviving Herb whose tender Green\n Fledges the River-lip on which we lean--\n Ah, lean upon it lightly! for who knows\n From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen!\n\nThe original of this quatrain was C. 44.\n\n All verdure that grows upon the margin of a stream,\n You may say, grows from the lip of one angel-natured;\n Beware not to set foot contemptuously upon the verdure,\n For that verdure grows from the clay of one tulip-cheeked.\n\n_Ref._: C. 44, L. 62, B. 59, S.P. 59, P. 64, T. 349, P. iv. 20.--W. 62,\nN. 59, V. 61.\n\n\nXXI.\n\n Ah, my Belov\u00e9d, fill the Cup that clears\n TO-DAY of past Regrets and future Fears:\n _To-morrow!_--Why, To-morrow I may be\n Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n thousand Years.\n\nThis quatrain is translated from C. 348.\n\n Come, O friend! and let us not suffer anguish concerning the morrow.\n Let us take advantage of these few ready-money moments,\n When, to-morrow, we depart from the face of the earth\n We shall be equal with those who went seven thousand years ago.\n\n_Ref._: C. 348, L. 546, B. 540, S.P. 268, P. 122, B. ii. 351, T. 233, P.\nv. 96.--W. 312, N. 269, V. 586.\n\n\nXXII.\n\n For some we loved, the loveliest and the best\n That from his Vintage rolling Time hath prest,\n Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before,\n And one by one crept silently to rest.\n\nThe inspiration for this quatrain is found in C. 185.\n\n All my sympathetic friends have left me,\n One by one they have sunk low at the foot of Death.\n In the fellowship of souls they were cup-companions,\n A turn or two before me they became drunk.\n\n_Ref._: C. 185, L. 381, B. 377, P. ii. 4, B. ii. 141.--W. 219, V. 379.\n\n\nXXIII.\n\n And we, that now make merry in the Room\n They left, and Summer dresses in new bloom,\n Ourselves must we beneath the Couch of Earth\n Descend--ourselves to make a Couch--for whom?\n\nThe main inspiration of this quatrain comes from C. 388.\n\n Arise, and do not sorrow for this fleeting world,\n Be at peace, and pass through the world with happiness.\n If the nature of the world were constant\n The turn of others would not have descended to you yourself.[42]\n\n_Ref._: C. 388, L. 585, B. 578, S.P. 322, P. 159 and 178, B. ii. 430, T.\n264, P. iv. 29 and 62.--W. 366, N. 325, V. 632.\n\nCombined with the suggestion contained in this ruba'i, we find the echo\nof a sentiment that recurs continually in the originals, _e.g._, C. 82\n(ll. 3 and 4) and O. 129 (ll. 3 and 4).\n\n This verdure, which for the present is my pleasure-ground\n Until the verdure (springing) from my clay shall become\n a pleasure-ground--for whom?\n\n_Ref._: C. 82, L. 191, B. 188, S.P. 70, P. 305, B. ii. 36, T. 63 and\n351.--W. 73, N. 70, V. 187.\n\n Sit upon the greensward, O Idol, for it will not be long\n Ere that greensward shall grow from my dust and thine.\n\n_Ref._: O. 129, C. 416, L. 634, B. 626, S.P. 345, P. 47, B. ii. 464, P.\nv. 131--W. 390, N. 348, E.C. 3, V. 683.\n\n\nXXIV.\n\n Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,\n Before we too into the Dust descend;\n Dust into Dust, and under Dust to lie,\n Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and--sans End!\n\nThe inspiration for this quatrain is found in the following (O. 76 and\n35).\n\n Do not allow sorrow to embrace thee,\n Nor an idle grief to occupy thy days,\n Forsake not the book and the lover's lips and the green bank\n of the field,\n Ere that the earth enfold thee in its bosom.\n\n_Ref._: O. 76, C. 173, L. 315, B. 311, P. 189, B. ii. 233, T. 121, P. v.\n39.--de T. 9, V. 317.\n\n Drink wine, for thou wilt sleep long beneath the clay\n Without an intimate, a friend, a comrade, or a mate.\n\n_Ref._: O. 35, C. 80, L. 188, B. 185, P. 284, T. 60.--W. 107, V. 184.\n\n\nXXV.\n\n Alike for those who for TO-DAY prepare,\n And those that after some TO-MORROW stare,\n A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries,\n \u00abFools! your Reward is neither Here nor There.\u00bb\n\nThe inspiration for this quatrain is in C. 396.\n\n Some are immersed in contemplation of doctrine and faith,\n Others stand stupefied between doubt and certainty,\n Suddenly a Muezzin, from his lurking place, cries out\n \u00abO Fools! the Road[43] is neither here nor there.\u00bb\n\n_Ref._: C. 396, L. 591, B. 584, S.P. 324, P. iii. 6, P. 65.--W. 376, N.\n337, V. 638.\n\n\nXXVI.\n\n Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd\n Of the Two Worlds so wisely--they are thrust\n Like foolish Prophets forth; their Words to scorn\n Are scatter'd, and their Mouths are stopt with dust.\n\nThis quatrain is taken from O. 140 and C. 236.\n\n Those, O Saki, who have gone before us,\n Have fallen asleep, O Saki, in the dust (or _khwab_ sleep)\n of self-esteem,\n Go thou and drink wine, and hear the truth from me,\n Whatever they have said, O Saki, is but wind!\n\n_Ref._: O. 140, C. 453, L. 687, B. 678, S.P. 380, P. 260, B. ii. 525, T.\n279, P. v. 22.--W 428, N. 384, V. 739.\n\n Those who are the cream of the existence of mankind,\n Spur the Burak of their thoughts up to the highest heaven,[44]\n In the study of your being, like heaven itself\n Their heads are turned, and overset, and spinning.\n\n_Ref._: C. 236, L. 326, B. 322, S.P. 120, T. 155, W. 147, N. 120, V.\n328.\n\n\nXXVII.\n\n Myself when young did eagerly frequent\n Doctor and Saint, and heard great argument\n About it and about: but evermore\n Came out by the same door wherein I went.\n\n\nXXVIII.\n\n With them the seed of Wisdom did I sow,\n And with mine own hand wrought to make it grow;\n And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd--\n \u00abI came like Water, and like Wind I go.\u00bb\n\nThese two quatrains must be considered together. They are inspired by O.\n121, C. 281, and O. 72.\n\n For a while, when young, we frequented a teacher,\n For a while we were contented with our proficiency;\n Behold the end of the discourse:--what happened to us?\n We came like water and we went like wind.\n\n_Ref._: O. 121, L. 544, B. 538, B. ii. 420, P. v. 99.--W 353, V. 584.\n\n Being (once) a falcon, I flew from the World of mystery,\n That from below I might soar to the heights above;\n But, not finding there any intimate friend,\n I came out by the same door wherein I went.[45]\n\n_Ref._: C. 281, L. 429, B. 425, S.P. 224, P. 30, B. ii. 295, T. 184.--W.\n264, N. 225, V. 467.\n\nA quatrain that probably contributed to FitzGerald's verse is:\n\n No one has solved the tangled secrets of eternity,\n No one has set foot beyond the orbit (of human under-standing),\n Since, so far as I can see, from tyro to teacher,\n Impotent are the hands of all men born of women.\n\n_Ref._: O. 72, C. 176, L. 357, B. 353, S.P. 175, B. ii. 211, P. v.\n210--W. 190, N. 175, V. 356.\n\n\nXXIX.\n\n Into this Universe, and _Why_ not knowing\n Nor _Whence_, like Water willy-nilly flowing;\n And out of it, as Wind along the Waste,\n I know not _Whither_, Willy-nilly blowing.\n\nThe inspiration for this quatrain is to be found in the following: C.\n235 and O. 20 (ll. 1 and 2).\n\n He first brought me in confusion into existence,\n What do I gain from my life save my amazement at it?\n We went away against our will, and we know not what was\n The purpose of this coming, and going, and being.\n\n_Ref._: C. 235, L. 324, B. 320, S.P. 117, T. 153.--W. 145, N. 117, V.\n326.\n\n Like water in a great river and like wind in the desert,\n Another day passes out of the period of my existence.[46]\n\n_Ref._: O. 20, C. 23 and 55, L. 84, B. 80, S.P. 22, P. ii. 2, P. 162, B.\nii. 24 and 88, T. 22 and 305, P. v. 140 and 186, W. 26, N. 22 and 42, V.\n83.\n\n\nXXX.\n\n What, without asking, hither hurried _Whence_?\n And, without asking, _Whither_ hurried hence!\n Oh, many a Cup of this forbidden Wine\n Must drown the memory of that insolence!\n\nThis quatrain owes its origin to two ruba'iyat in O., viz., 21 and 151.\n\n Seeing that my coming was not in my power at the Day of Creation,[47]\n And that my undesired departure hence is a purpose fixed (for me),\n Get up and gird well thy loins, O nimble cup-bearer,\n For I will wash down the misery of the world in wine.\n\n_Ref._: O. 21, C. 49, L. 94, B. 90, B. ii. 86, P. v. 123.--W. 110, V.\n94.\n\n Had I charge of the matter I would not have come,\n And, likewise, could I control my going, how should I have gone?\n There could have been nothing better than that in this world\n I had neither come, nor gone, nor lived?\n\n_Ref._: O. 157, C. 494, L. 732, B. 720, P. 88, B. ii. 590 and 593, P.\niv. 17, P. v. 130.--W. 490, E.C. 30, N. 450, V. 785.\n\n\nXXXI.\n\n Up from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gate\n I rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate,\n And many a Knot unravel'd by the Road;\n But not the Master-knot of Human Fate.\n\nThis quatrain is translated from C. 314.\n\n From the Nadir of the earthly globe, up to the Zenith of Saturn\n I solved all the problems of heaven;\n I escaped from the bondage of all trickery and deceit,\n All obstacles were removed save only the Bond of Fate.\n\n_Ref._: C. 314, L. 491, B. 487, B. ii. 338, T. 215.--W. 303, V. 531.\n\n\nXXXII.\n\n There was the Door to which I found no Key;\n There was the Veil through which I might not see:\n Some little talk awhile of ME and THEE\n There was--and then no more of THEE and ME.\n\nThe main inspiration of this quatrain is found in C. 387.\n\n Neither thou nor I know the secret of Eternity,\n And neither thou nor I can de-cypher this riddle;\n There is a talk behind the Curtain[48] of me and thee\n But when the Curtain falls neither thou nor I are there.\n\n_Ref._: C. 387, L. 581, B. 574, P. 33, B. ii. 421, T. 260.--W. 389, V.\n628.\n\nWe also see in the quatrain the influence of O. 29 and C. 193, ll. 1 and\n2.\n\n No one can pass behind the Curtain (that veils) the secret,\n The mind of no one is cognizant of what is there:[49]\n\n_Ref.:_ O. 29, C. 56, L. 61, B. 58, S.P. 43, P. 63, B. ii. 103, P. v.\n188.--W. 47, N. 44, V. 60.\n\n No one can pass behind the Curtain of Fate\n No one is master of the Secret of Destiny.\n\n_Ref.:_ C. 193, L. 345, B. 341, S.P. 177, B. ii. 212.--W 192, N. 177, V.\n346.\n\n\nXXXIII.*\n\n Earth could not answer; nor the seas that mourn\n In flowing Purple, of their Lord forlorn;\n Nor rolling Heaven, with all his Signs reveal'd\n And hidden by the sleeve of Night and Morn.\n\nThis is the quatrain (not No. 31 as stated by Mr. Aldis Wright in his\nEditorial Note) taken by Edward FitzGerald from the Mantik ut-tair of\nFerid ud din Attar. The story which inspired it begins at distich No.\n972, and is as follows:\n\n An observer of spiritual things approached the sea\n And said \u00abO sea, why are you blue?\n Why do you wear the robe of mourning?\n There is no fire, why do you boil?\u00bb\n The sea made answer to that good-hearted one,\n \u00abI weep for my separation from the Friend,\n Since by reason of my impotence I am not worthy of Him,\n I have made my robe blue on account of my sorrow for Him.\u00bb\n\n\nXXXIV.\n\n Then of the THEE in ME who works behind\n The Veil, I lifted up my hands to find\n A lamp amid the Darkness; and I heard,\n As from Without--\u00abTHE ME WITHIN THEE BLIND!\u00bb\n\nThat Edward FitzGerald was not following any particular ruba'iyat of the\noriginal MSS. is clearly indicated by the great variation observable in\nthe forms that this quatrain successively assumed in the first, second\nand third editions. It suggests an exposition of the Sufi doctrine of\nthe emanation of the mortal Creature from God the Creator, and his\nreabsorption into God. There is a quatrain in L. (No. 641) and in B. ii.\n(No. 457) which is akin to it, but FitzGerald was not acquainted with\nthese texts. (It is No. 400 in W.) I have no doubt that FitzGerald's\n34th quatrain was suggested to him by two intricate passages in the\nMantik ut-tair, commencing respectively at distich 3090 and distich\n3735. The first of these may be translated:\n\n\u00abThe Creator of the World spoke thus to David from behind the Curtain of\nthe Secret: 'For everything in the world, good or bad, visible or\ninvisible, thou canst find a substitute, but for Me, thou canst find\nneither substitute nor equal. Since nothing can be substituted for Me,\ndo not cease to abide in Me. I am thy Soul, destroy not thou thy Soul, I\nam necessary to thee, O thou my servant. Seek not to exist apart from\nMe.'\u00bb\n\nThe second passage reads: \u00abSince long ago, really, I am thee, and thou\nart Me, we two are but One. Art thou Me, or am I thee? is there any\nduality in the matter? Either I am thee, or thou art Me, or thou, thou\nart thyself. Since thou art Me and I am thee for ever, our two bodies\nare One: Salutation!\u00bb\n\n\nXXXV.\n\n Then to the Lip of this poor earthen Urn\n I lean'd, the Secret of my Life to learn;\n And Lip to Lip it murmur'd--\u00abWhile you live,\n \u00abDrink!--for, once dead, you never shall return.\u00bb\n\nThis quatrain is translated from O. 100:\n\n In great desire I pressed my lips to the lip of the jar,\n To enquire from it how long life might be attained;\n It joined its lip to mine and whispered,\n \u00abDrink wine! for to this world thou returnest not.\u00bb\n\n_Ref._: O. 100, C. 283, L. 446, B. 442, P. 99, B. ii. 303, T. 185, P. v.\n193.--W. 274, E.C. 25, V. 482.\n\nC. 489 is a mystic and doctrinal quatrain containing the same\ninjunction.\n\n Drink wine! for I have told you a thousand times\n There is no returning for you; when you are gone, you are _gone_!\n\n_Ref._: C. 489, L. 723, B. 712, S.P. 385, B. ii. 526, P. iv. 67, P. v.\n104--W. 431, N. 389, V. 775.\n\n\nXXXVI.\n\n I think the Vessel, that with fugitive\n Articulation answer'd, once did live,\n And drink; and Ah! the passive Lip I kiss'd,\n How many Kisses might it take--and give!\n\nThe inspiration for this quatrain occurs in O. 9.\n\n This jug was once a plaintive lover, as I am,\n And was in pursuit of one of comely face;[50]\n This handle that thou seest upon its neck\n Is an arm that once lay around the neck of a friend.\n\n_Ref._: O. 9, C. 48 and 426, L. 81, B. 77, S.P. 28, P. 108, B. ii. 28,\nP. v. 142.--W. 32, N. 28, E.C. 5, V. 80.\n\n\nXXXVII.\n\n For I remember stopping by the way\n To watch a Potter thumping his wet Clay;\n And with its all-obliterated Tongue\n It murmur'd--\u00abGently, Brother, gently, pray!\u00bb\n\nThe original of this quatrain is O. 89.\n\n I saw a potter in the bazaar yesterday,\n He was violently pounding some fresh clay,\n And that clay said to him in mystic language,\n \u00abI was once like thee--so treat me well.\u00bb\n\n_Ref._: O. 89, C. 261, L. 411, B. 407, S.P. 210, P. 100, B. ii. 274, P.\niv. 71, P. v. 198.--W. 252, N. 211, V. 434.\n\n\nXXXVIII.*\n\n And has not such a Story from of Old\n Down Man's successive generations roll'd\n Of such a clod of saturated Earth\n Cast by the maker into Human mould?\n\nThis quatrain, which is in the nature of a reflection upon the three\npreceding ones, conveys an idea which is constantly recurrent in the\nruba'iyat. Edward FitzGerald himself records, in a note, that, in\ncomposing this quatrain, he had in mind a very beautiful story in the\nMantik ut-tair of the water of a certain well which, ordinarily sweet,\nbecame bitter when drawn in a vessel made from clay which once had been\na man. For its inclusion in this poem FitzGerald had the support of two\n(among many) quatrains from C. 475 and 488.\n\n I pondered over the workshop of a potter;\n In the shadow of the wheel I saw that the master, with his feet,\n Made handles and covers for goblets and jars,\n Out of the skulls of kings and the feet of beggars.\n\n_Ref._: C. 475, L. 698, B. 689, S.P. 426, P. 103, B. ii. 576.--W. 466,\nN. 431, V. 750.\n\n I made my way into the (abode of the) potters of the age,\n Every moment shewed some new skill with clay;\n I saw, though men devoid of vision saw it not,\n My ancestors' dust on the hands of every potter.\n\n_Ref._: C. 488, L. 721, B. 710, P. 101, B. ii. 543.--W 493, V. 773.\n\n\nXXXIX.*\n\n And not a drop that from our Cups we throw\n For Earth to Drink of, but may steal below\n To quench the fire of Anguish in some Eye\n There hidden--far beneath and long ago.\n\nThis quatrain is taken from ll. 1 and 2 of O. 81\n\n Every draught that the Cup-bearer scatters upon the earth\n Quenches the fire of anguish in some burning eye.\n\n_Ref._: O. 81, C. 180, L. 367, B. 363, S.P. 188, P. 231, B. ii. 241, P.\nv. 187.--W. 203, N. 188, V. 366.\n\n\nXL.*\n\n As then the Tulip for her morning sup\n Of Heav'nly Vintage from the soil looks up,\n Do you devoutly do the like, till Heav'n\n To Earth invert you--like an empty Cup.\n\nThe original of this quatrain is C. 37.\n\n Like a tulip in the spring uplift your cup;\n If you get a (happy) opportunity with a moon-faced one,\n Drink wine with cheerfulness, for this worn-out sky\n Will suddenly invert you to the level of the earth.\n\n_Ref._: C. 37, L. 136, B. 133, S.P. 39, B. ii. 84, T. 40 and 311.--W 44,\nN. 40, V. 135.\n\n\nXLI.*\n\n Perplext no more with Human or Divine,\n To-morrow's tangle to the winds resign,\n And lose your fingers in the tresses of\n The Cypress-slender Minister of Wine.\n\nThe sentiment of this quatrain is very recurrent. I think that\nFitzGerald's first inspiration comes from O. 73.\n\n Set limits to thy desire for worldly things and live content,\n Sever the bonds of thy dependence upon the good and bad of life,\n Take wine in hand and (play with) the curls of a loved one; for quickly\n All passeth away--and these few days will not remain.\n\n_Ref._: O. 73, C. 179, L. 256, B. 253, S.P. 176.--W. 191, N. 176, V.\n262.\n\nLl. 3 and 4 of O. 118 suggest the quatrain also.\n\n Let us cease to strive after our long delaying hope[51]\n And play with long ringlets and the handle of the lute.\n\n_Ref._: O. 118, L. 571, B. 564, S.P. 293, B. ii. 391.--W. 332, N. 294,\nV. 611.\n\nLl. 1 and 2 of O. 131 are also in point:\n\n Flee from the study of all sciences--'tis better thus,\n And twine thy fingers in the curly locks of a loved one--'tis\n better thus.\n\n_Ref._: O. 131, C. 443, L. 670, B. 662, S.P. 356, P. 296, B. ii. 480, T.\n276, P. v. 158.--W. 426, N. 359, V. 719.\n\nFitzGerald was probably \u00abreminded of\u00bb these by Nicolas whose quatrains\n48, 155, and 359 (C. 443) convey the same idea.\n\n\nXLII.\n\n And if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press,\n End in what All begins and ends in--Yes;\n Think then you are TO-DAY what YESTERDAY\n You were--TO-MORROW you shall not be less.\n\nThe inspiration for this quatrain is contained in the following, O. 102\nand C. 412.\n\n Khayyam, if thou art drunk with wine,[52] be happy,\n If thou reposest with one tulip-cheeked, be happy,\n Since the end of all things is that thou wilt be naught,\n Whilst thou art, imagine that thou art not--be happy!\n\n_Ref._: O. 102, C. 291, L. 454, B. 450, S.P. 241, P. 202, B. ii. 322, T.\n192 and 296, P. iv. 26, P. v. 5.--W. 282, N. 242, V. 493.\n\n Remember not the day that has passed away from thee,\n Be not hard upon the morrow that has not come,\n Think not about thine own coming or departure,\n Drink wine _now_, and fling not thy life to the winds.\n\n_Ref._: C. 412, L. 619, B. 611, P. 116, B. ii. 444, P. v. 121.--V. 666.\n\n\nXLIII.\n\n So when that Angel of the darker Drink\n At last shall find you by the river-brink,\n And, offering his Cup, invite your Soul\n Forth to your Lips to quaff--you shall not shrink.\n\nThis quatrain owes its origin to C. 256.[53]\n\n In the circle of the firmament, whose depths are invisible,\n There is a cup which, in due time, they will cause all to drink;\n When thy turn comes, do not utter lamentations,\n Drink wine gaily for it has come to be thy turn.\n\n_Ref._: C. 256, L. 408, B. 404, B. ii. 273.--W. 254, V. 431.\n\n\nXLIV.\n\n Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside,\n And naked on the Air of Heaven ride,\n Were't not a Shame--were't not a Shame for him\n In this clay carcase crippled to abide?\n\nThis quatrain is translated from O. 145.\n\n Oh Soul! if thou canst purify thyself from the dust of the body,\n Thou, naked spirit, canst soar in the heavens,\n The Empyrean is thy sphere--let it be thy shame,\n That thou comest and art a dweller within the confines of earth.[54]\n\n_Ref._: O. 145, C. 447, L. 707, B. 697, S.P. 389, P. 111, B. ii.\n523.--W. 436, N. 394, E.C. 7, V. 759.\n\n\nXLV.\n\n 'Tis but a Tent where takes his one day's rest\n A Sultan to the realm of Death addrest;\n The Sultan rises, and the dark Ferrash\n Strikes, and prepares it for another Guest.\n\nThis quatrain is translated from C. no. 110.\n\n Khayyam! thy body surely resembles a tent;\n The soul is a Sultan and the halting-place is the perishable world,\n The ferrash of fate, preparing for the next halting-place,\n Will overthrow this tent when the Sultan has arisen.[55]\n\n_Ref._: C. 110, L. 100, B. 96, S.P. 80, B. ii. 95, T. 86, P. v. 172.--W.\n82, N. 80, V. 100.\n\n\nXLVI.*\n\n And fear not lest Existence closing your\n Account, and mine, should know the like no more;\n The Eternal Saki from that Bowl has pour'd\n Millions of Bubbles like us, and will pour.\n\nFitzGerald was indebted for this quatrain to N. 137. The original ruba'i\nis not in O. or C.\n\n Khayyam! although the pavilion of heaven\n Has spread its tent and closed the door upon all discussion,\n In the goblet of existence, like bubbles of wine\n The Eternal Saki brings to light a thousand Khayyams.\n\n_Ref._: N. 137,[56] W. 161, V. 397.\n\n\nXLVII.*\n\n When You and I behind the Veil are past,\n Oh, but the long, long while the World shall last,\n Which of our Coming and Departure heeds\n As the Sea's self should heed a pebble-cast.\n\nIn this quatrain FitzGerald is \u00abreminded of\u00bb O. 26 and 51 by N. 123.\n\n Know this--that from thy soul thou shalt be separated,\n Thou shalt pass behind the Curtain of the Secrets of God.\n\n_Ref._: O. 26, C. 83, L. 192, B. 189, S.P. 85, B. ii. 110, T. 64, P. v.\nJ 34.--W. 87, N. 85, V. 188.\n\n My coming was of no profit to the heavenly sphere,[57]\n And by my departure nothing will be added to its beauty and dignity.\n\n_Ref._: O. 51, C. 129, L. 232, B. 229, S.P. 157, P. 55, B. ii. 158, T.\n104.--W. 176, N. 157, E.C. 17, V. 239.\n\n Oh! how long we shall be no more, and the world will continue to exist,\n It will continue to exist without fame or sign of us,\n Long ago we existed not, and (the world) was none the worse for it,\n Afterwards, when we have ceased to exist, it will be all the same.\n\n_Ref._: N. 123, W. 150, V. 395.\n\n\nXLVIII.\n\n A Moment's Halt--a momentary taste\n Of BEING from the Well amidst the waste--\n And Lo!--the phantom Caravan has reach'd\n The NOTHING it set out from--Oh, make haste!\n\nWe must consider here the form in which this quatrain first made its\nappearance in the edition of 1859:\n\n One Moment in Annihilation's Waste,\n One Moment, of the Well of Life to taste--\n The stars are setting, and the Caravan\n Starts for the Dawn of Nothing--Oh, make haste!\n\nThe inspiration for this richly varied quatrain comes from O. 60.\n\n This caravan of life passes by mysteriously;\n Mayest thou seize the moment that passes happily!\n Cup-bearer, why grieve about the to-morrow of thy patrons?[58]\n Give us a cup of wine, for the night wanes.\n\n_Ref._: O. 60, C. 135, L. 245, B. 242, P. 223, S.P. 106, B. ii. 146, T.\n139.--W. 136, N. 106, V. 251.\n\nLl. 3 and 4 of C. 368 may also be quoted:\n\n (Man is) a toil-stricken being, fashioned in the clay of affliction,\n He tasted of Earth for a time and passed away.\n\n_Ref._: C. 368, L. 566, B. 559, S.P. 301, B. ii. 404, T. 242.--W. 338,\nN. 302, V. 606.\n\n\nXLIX.*\n\n Would you that spangle of Existence spend\n About THE SECRET--quick about it, Friend!\n A Hair perhaps divides the False and True--\n And upon what, prithee, may life depend?\n\n\nL.*\n\n A Hair perhaps divides the False and True;\n Yes; and a single Alif were the clue--\n Could you but find it--to the Treasure-house,\n And peradventure to THE MASTER too;\n\nThis pair of quatrains must also be considered together. The idea\ncontained in them is, I think, collected from C. 482 and 19, and from O.\n28.\n\n Oh Boy! since thou art learned in all secrets,\n Why grieve so much after vain cares?\n If things will not shape themselves according to thy desire,\n At any rate be happy in this moment of thy existence.\n\n_Ref._: C. 482, L. 714, B. 703, S.P. 414, B. ii. 560.--W. 458, N. 419,\nV. 766.\n\n From the state of infidelity to that of faith is but a breath,\n And from a state of doubt to that of certainty is but a breath,\n Hold thou dear this one precious moment,\n For of the outcome of our being there is but a moment.\n\n_Ref._: C. 19, L. 131, B. 127, S.P. 20, B. ii. 22, T. 20.--W. 24, N. 20,\nV. 130.\n\n My Heart said to me: \u00abI have a longing for inspired knowledge,\n Teach me if thou art able,\u00bb\n I said the Alif. My Heart said: \u00abSay no more.\n If One is in the house, one letter is enough.\u00bb[59]\n\n_Ref._: O. 28.--W. 109.\n\n\nLI.*\n\n Whose secret Presence, through Creation's veins\n Running Quicksilver-like eludes your pains;\n Taking all shapes from Mah to Mahi; and\n They change and perish all--but He remains;\n\nIn this quatrain FitzGerald has made a masterly conversion of C. 72.\n\n That Moon which is by nature skilled in metamorphosis\n Is sometimes animal and sometimes vegetable,\n Do not imagine that it will become non-existent--away with thought!\n It is always possessed of its essence though its qualities\n cease to be.[60]\n\n_Ref._: C. 72, L. 179, B. 176, S.P. 73, B. ii. 31, T. 51.--W. 75, N. 73,\nV. 175.\n\nC. 40 may also be cited.\n\n Place wine in my hand for my heart is aglow,\n And this fleet-footed existence is like quicksilver.\n Arise! for the wakefulness of good fortune turns to slumber;\n Know thou that the fire of youth is (fugitive) like water.\n\n_Ref._: C. 40, L. 63, B. 60, S.P. 54, T. 45.--W. 57, N. 54, V. 62.\n\n\u00abFrom Mah to Mahi\u00bb--_i.e._, from Moon to Fish is a common Oriental\nmetaphor for universality. See FitzGerald's note on this subject, and\nthe Terminal Essay to my former volume, p. 309.\n\n\nLII.*\n\n A moment guess'd--then back behind the Fold\n Immerst of Darkness round the Drama roll'd\n Which, for the Pastime of Eternity,\n He doth Himself contrive, enact, behold.\n\nThis quatrain is translated from C. 479.\n\n Hidden sometimes thou shewest thy face to none,\n Sometimes thou appearest in the forms of created beings,\n Thou exhibitest this spectacle to thyself.\n Thou art thyself both the real thing seen and the spectator.\n\n_Ref._: C. 479, L. 705, B. 695, S.P. 437.--W. 475, N. 443, V. 757.\n\n\nLIII.*\n\n But if in vain, down on the stubborn floor\n Of Earth, and up to Heav'n's unopening Door,\n You gaze TO-DAY, while You are You--how then\n TO-MORROW, when You shall be You no more?\n\nThe original of this quatrain is C. 24.\n\n If the heart understood the secret of existence as it _is_,\n In death it would know all the secrets of God:\n If to-day thou knowest nothing, being _with_ thyself,\n What wilt thou know to-morrow when thou abandonest thyself?\n\n_Ref._: C. 24, L. 78, B. 74, S.P. 49, P. 85, B. ii. 106, T. 25.--W. 52,\nN. 49. V. 77.\n\n\nLIV.\n\n Waste not your Hour, nor in the vain pursuit\n Of this and That endeavour and dispute;\n Better be jocund with the fruitful Grape\n Than sadden after none, or Bitter, Fruit.\n\nThe inspiration for this quatrain comes from O. 50 and O. 107:\n\n Those who are the slaves of intellect and hair-splitting,[61]\n Have perished in bickerings about existence and non-existence;\n Go, thou dunce! and choose (rather) grape juice,\n For the ignorant from (eating) dry raisins, have become (like)\n unripe grapes (themselves).[62]\n\n_Ref._: O. 50, L. 262, T. 102, P. v. 164.--W. 216, V. 267.\n\n How long this talk about the eternity to come, and the\n eternity past?[63]\n Now is the time of joy, there is no substitute for wine!\n Both theory and practice have passed beyond my ken,\n (But) Wine unties the knot of every difficulty.\n\n_Ref._: O. 107, C. 312, L. 489, B. 485, B. ii. 341, T. 213, P. v.\n207.--W. 304, V. 259.\n\n\nLV.\n\n You know, my friends, with what a brave Carouse\n I made a Second Marriage in my house;\n Divorced old barren Reason from my Bed,\n And took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse.\n\nThis quatrain is translated from C. 175.\n\n I will fill a one-maund goblet with wine,\n I will enrich myself with two half-maunds of wine:\n First I will thrice pronounce the divorce from learning and faith,[64]\n And then I will take the daughter of the vine[65] to spouse.\n\n_Ref._: C. 175, L. 267, B. 263, P. 288, P. v. 209.--V. 271.\n\n\nLVI.\n\n For \u00abIS\u00bb and \u00abIS-NOT\u00bb though with Rule and Line\n And \u00abUP-AND-DOWN\u00bb by Logic I define,\n Of all that one should care to fathom, I\n Was never deep in anything but--Wine.\n\nThis quatrain is translated from O. 120:\n\n I know the outwardness of existence and non-existence,[66]\n I know the inwardness of all that is high and low;\n Nevertheless let me be ashamed of[67] my own knowledge\n If I recognise any degree higher than drunkenness.\n\n_Ref._: O. 120, L. 523, B. 518, S.P. 299, P. 265, B. ii. 409, P. v.\n38.--W. 336, N. 300, V. 563.\n\n\nLVII.*\n\n Ah, but my Computations, People say,\n Reduced the Year to better reckoning?--Nay,\n 'Twas only striking from the Calendar\n Unborn To-morrow and dead Yesterday.\n\nThis quatrain owes its inspiration to C. 381 and O. 20, ll. 3 and 4:\n\n My enemies erroneously have called me a philosopher,[68]\n God knows I am not what they have called me;\n But, as I have come into this nesting place of sorrow,\n In the end I am in a still worse plight, for I know not who I am.\n\n_Ref._: C. 381, L. 580, B. 573, B. ii. 383, T. 259.--W. 350, V. 619.\n\n Never has grief lingered in my mind concerning two days,[69]\n The day that has not yet come, and the day that is past.\n\n_Ref._: O. 20, C. 23 and 55, L. 84, S.P. 22, B. 80, P. 162, B. ii. 24\nand 88, P. ii. 2, T. 22 and 305, P. v. 140 and 186.--W. 26, N. 22 and\n42, V. 83.\n\n\nLVIII.\n\n And lately, by the Tavern Door agape,\n Came shining through the Dusk an Angel Shape\n Bearing a vessel on his Shoulder; and\n He bid me taste of it; and 'twas--the Grape!\n\nThis quatrain is a refined version of C. 297.\n\n Yesterday, whilst drunk, I was passing a tavern,\n I saw a drunken old man bearing a vessel on his shoulder.\n I said, \u00abOld man, does not God make thee ashamed?\u00bb\n He replied, \u00abGod is merciful, go, drink wine!\u00bb\n\n_Ref._: C. 297, L. 462, B. 458, S.P. 243, P. 278, T. 197.--W. 284, N.\n244, V. 501.\n\n\nLIX.\n\n The Grape that can with Logic absolute\n The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects confute;\n The sovereign Alchemist that in a trice\n Life's leaden metal into Gold transmute;\n\nThis quatrain is translated from O. 77.\n\n Drink wine, that will banish thine abundant woes.\n And will banish thought of the Seventy-two Sects;\n Avoid not the Alchemist,[70] from whom\n Thou takest one draught, and he banishes a thousand calamities.\n\n_Ref._: O. 77, C. 165, L. 305, B. 301, S.P. 179, P. 283, T. 112, P. v.\n152.--W. 194, V. 308.\n\n\nLX.\n\n The mighty Mahmud, Allah-breathing Lord,\n That all the misbelieving and black Horde\n Of Fears and Sorrows that infest the Soul\n Scatters before him with his whirlwind Sword.\n\nThis reference to Mahmoud the Ghasnavide, who made war upon the black\ninfidels of Hindostan, comes from an apologue in the Mantik ut-tair of\nFerid ud din Attar, (beginning at distich 3117). The last two lines come\nfrom O. 81, ll. 3 and 4.\n\n Praise be to God! thou realizest that wine\n Is a juice that frees thy heart from a hundred pains.\n\n_Ref._: O. 81, C. 180, L. 367, B. 363, S.P. 188, P. 231, B. ii. 241, P.\nv. 187.--W. 203, N. 188, V. 366.\n\n\nLXI.*\n\n Why, be this Juice the growth of God, who dare\n Blaspheme the twisted tendril as a Snare?\n A Blessing, we should use it, should we not?\n And if a Curse--Why, then, Who set it there?\n\nThe inspiration for this quatrain is contained in O. 75.\n\n I drink wine, and everyone drinks who, like me, is worthy of it;\n My wine-drinking is but a small thing to Him;\n God knew on the Day of Creation, that I should drink wine;\n If I do not drink wine God's knowledge would be ignorance.\n\n_Ref._: O. 75, C. 202, L. 356, B. 352, S.P. 182, P. 324, B. ii. 234, T.\n129, P. v. 181.--W. 197, N. 182, V. 355.\n\n\nLXII.*\n\n I must abjure the Balm of Life, I must,\n Scared by some After-reckoning ta'en on trust,\n Or lured with Hope of some Diviner Drink,\n To fill the Cup--when crumbled into Dust!\n\nThis quatrain is taken from C. 505 and O. 143, ll. 3 and 4.\n\n They say, \u00abDo not drink wine for thou wilt suffer for it,\n On the Day of Rewards thou wilt be cast into the fire.\u00bb\n That is so; but what is worth both the worlds\n Is the moment when thou art elated with wine.\n\n_Ref._: C. 505, L. 748, B. 734, P. 250, B. ii. 587.--V. 800.\n\n Make thyself a heaven here with wine and cup,\n For at that place where heaven is, thou mayst arrive, or mayst not.\n\n_Ref._: O. 143, C. 495. L. 733, B. 721, S.P. 379, P. 209, B. ii. 529, P.\nv. 129.--W. 427, N. 383, V. 786.\n\n\nLXIII.\n\n Oh threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise!\n One thing at least is certain--_This_ Life flies;\n One thing is certain and the rest is Lies;\n The Flower that once has blown for ever dies.\n\nThe inspiration for this quatrain comes from O. 35 of which ll. 1 and 2\nare quoted as parallel to quatrain No. 24 _ante_.\n\n Take care that thou tellest not this hidden secret to anyone\n The tulips that are withered will never bloom again.\n\n_Ref._: O. 35, C. 80, L. 188, B. 185, P. 284, T. 60.--W. 107, V. 184.\n\n\nLXIV.*\n\n Strange, is it not? that of the myriads who\n Before us pass'd the door of Darkness through,\n Not one returns to tell us of the Road,\n Which to discover we must travel too.\n\nThis is a constantly recurring image in the ruba'iyat. C. 36 and 270 may\nbe cited:\n\n I have travelled far in a wandering by valley and desert,\n It came to pass I wandered in all quarters of the world,\n I have not heard from anyone who came from that road,\n The road he has travelled, no traveller travels again.\n\n_Ref._: C. 36, L. 57, B. 54. T. 39.--W. 129, V. 56.\n\n Of all the travellers upon this long road,\n Where is he that has returned, that he may tell us the secret?\n Take heed that in this mansion (by way of metaphor)\n Thou leavest nothing, for thou wilt not come back.\n\n_Ref._: C. 270, L. 424, B. 420, S.P. 216, P. 121, B. ii. 286, P. v.\n9.--W. 258, N. 217, V. 462.\n\nC. 211 and 277 contain the same image.\n\n\nLXV.*\n\n The Revelations of Devout and Learn'd\n Who rose before us, and as Prophets burn'd,\n Are all but Stories, which, awoke from Sleep,\n They told their comrades, and to Sleep return'd.\n\nThis quatrain is translated from C. 127.\n\n Those who have become oceans of excellence and cultivation,\n And from the collection of their perfections have become\n lights of their fellows,\n Have not made a road out of this dark night,\n They have told a fable and have gone to sleep.\n\n_Ref._: C. 127, L. 261, B. 258, P. 86, T. 101.--W. 209, N. 464, V. 266.\n\n\nLXVI.*\n\n I sent my Soul through the Invisible,\n Some letter of that After-life to spell:\n And by and by my Soul return'd to me,\n And answer'd, \u00abI myself am Heav'n and Hell\u00bb:\n\nThis quatrain is inspired by O. 15.\n\n Already on the Day of Creation, beyond the heavens, my soul\n Searched for the Tablet and Pen, and for heaven and hell,\n At last the Teacher said to me with His enlightened judgment,\n \u00abTablet and Pen, and heaven and hell, are within thyself.\u00bb[71]\n\n_Ref._: O. 15, L. 59, B. 56, P. 114, B. ii. 69, P. v. 79--W. 114, V. 58.\n\n\nLXVII.*\n\n Heav'n but the Vision of fulfill'd Desire,\n And Hell the Shadow from a Soul on fire,\n Cast on the Darkness into which Ourselves,\n So late emerged from, shall so soon expire.\n\nThe inspiration for this verse comes from O. 33.\n\n The heavenly vault is a girdle (cast) from my weary body.\n Jihun[72] is a water-course worn by my filtered tears,\n Hell is a spark from my useless worries,\n Paradise is a moment of time when I am tranquil.\n\n_Ref._: O. 33, C. 90, L. 199, B. 196, S.P. 90, P. 148, T. 70, P. v.\n183.--W. 92, N. 90, V. 195.\n\nFitzGerald's verse was evidently also influenced by distich 1866 of the\nMantik ut-tair.\n\n Heaven and hell are reflections, the one of thy goodness, and\n the other of thy wrath.\n\n\nLXVIII.\n\n We are no other than a moving row\n Of Magic Shadow-shapes that come and go\n Round with the Sun-illumined Lantern held\n In Midnight by the Master of the Show;\n\nThis quatrain is translated from O. 108.\n\n This vault of heaven beneath which we stand bewildered,\n We know to be a sort of magic-lantern:[73]\n Know thou that the sun is the flame and the universe is the lamp,\n We are like figures that revolve in it.\n\n_Ref._: O. 108, C. 332, L. 505, B. 501, S.P. 266, P. 40, B. ii. 356, P.\niv. 34.--W. 310, N. 267, E.C. 28, de T. 10, V. 545.\n\n\nLXIX.\n\n But helpless Pieces of the Game He plays\n Upon this Chequer-board of Nights and Days;\n Hither and thither moves, and checks, and slays,\n And one by one back in the Closet lays.\n\nThis quatrain is translated from O. 94.\n\n To speak plain language, and not in parables,\n We are the pieces and heaven plays the game,\n We are played together in a baby-game upon the chess-board\n of existence,\n And one by one we return to the box of non-existence.\n\n_Ref._: O. 94, C. 280, L. 443, B. 439, S.P. 230, P. 31, B. ii. 291, T.\n183, P. v. 10.--W. 270, N. 231, E.C. 27, V. 480.\n\n\nLXX.\n\n The Ball no question makes of Ayes and Noes\n But Here or There as strikes the Player goes;\n And He that toss'd you down into the Field,\n _He_ knows about it all--HE knows--HE knows!\n\nThis quatrain is translated from C. 422.\n\n O thou who art driven like a ball by the mallet of Fate,\n Go to the right or take the left, but say nothing;[74]\n For He who set thee running and galloping\n He knows, he knows, he knows, he----.\n\n_Ref._: C. 422, L. 633, B. 625, P. 167, B. ii. 462, T. 274.--W. 401, V.\n682.\n\n\nLXXI.\n\n The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,\n Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit\n Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,\n Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.\n\nThe origin of this quatrain is to be found in O. 31\n\n From the beginning[75] was written what shall be;\n Unhaltingly the Pen (writes) and is heedless of good and bad;\n On the First Day He appointed everything that must be--\n Our grief and our efforts are vain.\n\n_Ref._: O. 31, C. 87, L. 195, B. 192, S.P. 31, B. ii. 60, T. 67, P. v.\n211.--W. 35, N. 31, V. 191.\n\n\nLXXII.\n\n And that inverted Bowl they call the Sky,\n Whereunder crawling coop'd we live and die,\n Lift not your hands to _It_ for help--for It\n As Impotently moves as you or I.\n\nThe inspiration for this quatrain comes from O. 134, ll. 1 and 2, and O.\n41.\n\n This heavenly vault is like a bowl fallen upside down,\n Under which all the wise have fallen helpless.\n\n_Ref._: O. 134, C. 435, L. 657, B. 649, S.P. 360, P. 34, B. ii. 481, P.\nv. 154.--W. 408, N. 363, V. 706.\n\n The good and the bad that are in man's nature,\n The happiness and misery that are predestined for us,\n Do not impute them to the heavens, for, in the way of Wisdom,\n Those heavens are a thousandfold more helpless than thou art.\n\n_Ref._: O. 41, C. 62, L. 80, B. 76, S.P. 95, P. 45.--W. 96, N. 95, V.\n79.\n\n\nLXXIII.\n\n With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man knead,\n And there of the Last Harvest sow'd the Seed:\n And the first Morning of Creation wrote\n What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.\n\nIn this quatrain we trace the influence of O. 31 (quoted in the parallel\nto quatrain No. 71, _ante_) and of O. 95.\n\n Oh, heart! since, in this world, truth itself is hyperbole,\n Why art thou so disquieted with this trouble and abasement?\n Resign thy body to destiny and adapt thyself to the times,\n For, what the Pen has written, it will not re-write for thy sake.[76]\n\n_Ref._: O. 95, L. 430, B. 426, S.P. 215, P. 59, B. ii. 292.--W. 257, N.\n216, E.C. 15, V. 468.\n\n\nLXXIV.*\n\n YESTERDAY _This_ Day's Madness did prepare;\n TO-MORROW'S Silence, Triumph, or Despair:\n Drink! for you know not whence you came, nor why\n Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.\n\nThe first half of this quatrain comes from O. 152 and the second half\nfrom O. 26, ll. 3 and 4.\n\n Be happy! they settled thy business yesterday,\n And beyond the reach of all thy longings is yesterday,\n\n Live happily, for without any importunity on thy part yesterday,\n They appointed with certainty what thou wilt do to-morrow--yesterday!\n\n_Ref._: O. 152, C. 473, L. 702, B. ii. 564, P. v. 196.--W. 489, V. 754.\n\n Be happy!--thou knowest not whence thou hast come:\n Drink wine!--thou knowest not whither thou shalt go.\n\n_Ref._: O. 26, C. 83, L. 192, B. 189, S.P. 85, B. ii. 110, T. 64, P. v.\n34.--W 87, N. 85, V. 188.\n\n\nLXXV.\n\n I tell you this--When, started from the Goal,\n Over the flaming shoulders of the Foal\n Of Heav'n, Parwin and Mushtari they flung,\n In my predestined Plot of Dust and Soul.\n\nThis quatrain is translated from C. 147.\n\n On that day when they saddled the wild horses of the Sun,\n And settled the laws of Parwin and Mushtari,[77]\n This was the lot decreed for me from the Diwan of Fate:\n How can I sin? (my sins) are what Fate allotted me as my portion.\n\n_Ref._: C. 147, L. 286, B. 282, S.P. 110.--W. 140, N. 110, V. 289.\n\n\nLXXVI.\n\n The Vine had struck a fibre; which about\n If clings my Being--let the Dervish flout;\n Of my Base metal may be filed a Key,\n That shall unlock the Door he howls without.\n\nThe sentiment of this quatrain is contained in C. 143.\n\n Since Eternity itself was He created me,\n From the first he dictated to me the lesson of love,\n At that time a small filing of the dust of my heart,\n He made into a key of the treasure-house of substance.[78]\n\n_Ref._: C. 143, L. 311, B. 307, P. 81, T. 134.--V. 314.\n\n\nLXXVII.\n\n And this I know; whether the one True Light\n Kindle to Love, or Wrath-consume me quite,\n One Flash of It within the Tavern caught\n Better than in the Temple lost outright.\n\nThis quatrain is translated from O. 2.\n\n If I talk of the mystery with Thee in a tavern,\n It is better than if I make my devotions before the Mihrab[79]\n without Thee.\n O Thou, the first and last of all created beings,\n Burn me an Thou wilt, cherish me an Thou wilt.\n\n_Ref._: O. 2, C. 272, L. 427, B. 423, S.P. 221, P. 7, B. ii. 294, T.\n172.--W. 262, N. 222, V. 465.\n\n\nLXXVIII.*\n\n What! out of senseless Nothing to provoke\n A conscious Something to resent the yoke\n Of unpermitted Pleasure, under pain\n Of everlasting Penalties, if broke!\n\nIt is not easy to deal with this and the three following quatrains\nseparately, the sentiments of all four being closely interchangeable and\nlargely identical. To avoid confusion, however, I have attempted the\ntask. There are some scores of ruba'iyat that may be said to have\ncontributed their imageries to the quatrain. The main sources of the\nfirst of them seem to be C. 85 and N. 226:\n\n God, when he fashioned the clay of my body,\n Knew by my making what would come of it;\n (Since) there is no sin of mine without his order\n Why should he seek to burn me at the Day of Resurrection?\n\n_Ref._: C. 85, L. 194, B. 191, S.P. 99, P. 18, T. 66.--W. 100, N. 99, V.\n190.\n\n Thou knowest that abstinence from that (sin) is impossible,\n Having (nevertheless) ordered and ordained abstinence from it;\n Thus between the order and the prohibition we stand helpless,\n We mortals are helpless at the permission to slant\n (the cup) but not to spill (its contents).[80]\n\n_Ref._: N. 226, L. 442, B. 438, S.P. 225, P. 317, B. ii. 297, T.\n180.--W. 265, V. 479.\n\n\nLXXIX.*\n\n What! from his helpless Creature be repaid\n Pure Gold for what he lent him dross-allay'd--\n Sue for a Debt he never did contract,\n And cannot answer--Oh the sorry trade!\n\nThis quatrain would seem to be specially inspired by C. 201 and 433,\nwhich are so much alike (ll. 2, 3, and 4 are practically identical in\nboth) that one or the other is obviously the addition of a later scribe.\n\n When they mixed the earth of my shaping-mould,\n They produced an hundred wonders from me;[81]\n I cannot be better than I am,\n For this is how I was turned out of the crucible.\n\n_Ref._: C. 201, L. 355, B. 351, T. 128.--W. 221, V. 354.\n\n\nLXXX.\n\n Oh Thou, who didst with pitfall and with gin\n Beset the Road I was to wander in,\n Thou wilt not with Predestined Evil round\n Enmesh, and then impute my Fall to Sin!\n\nThis quatrain is translated from O. 148.\n\n In a thousand places on the road I walk, Thou placest snares,\n Thou say'st \u00abI will catch thee if thou settest foot in them,\u00bb\n In no smallest thing is the world independent of Thee,\n Thou orderest all things, and (yet) callest me rebellious!\n\n_Ref._: O. 148, B. ii. 546.--W. 432, N. 390.\n\n\nLXXXI.\n\n Oh Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make,\n And ev'n with Paradise devise the Snake:\n For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man\n Is blacken'd--Man's forgiveness give--and take!\n\n * * * * *\n\nThis is a very composite quatrain, round which some controversy has\nraged. Professor Cowell has given the weight of his authority to the\nstatement that \u00abthere is no original for the line about the snake.\u00bb This\nis true in so far as that the image does not occur in Omar, but\nFitzGerald had seen it in an important apologue in the Mantik ut-tair\n(beginning at distich 3229) in which we read of the presence of the\nSnake (Iblis) in Paradise, at the moment of the creation of Adam, and in\nthe course of which, Satan himself addresses God thus:\n\n If malediction comes from Thee, there comes also mercy,\n The created thing is dependent upon Thee since Destiny is in Thy hands;\n If malediction be my lot, I do not fear,\n There must be poison, everything is not antidote.\n\nThe influence of the following is traceable in the quatrains, C. 115, C.\n286, and C. 510:\n\n I am a disobedient slave, where is Thy mercy?\n My heart is dark, where is Thy light and clearness?\n If, for serving Thee, Thou givest me heaven,\n This a reward, but Thy grace and Thy gifts--where are they?\n\n_Ref._: C. 115, L. 217, B. 214, S.P. 91, P. 23.--W. 93, N. 91, V. 211.\n\n Oh! Thou who knowest the secrets of the hearts of all,\n Protector of all in their hours of helplessness:\n Oh, Lord! grant me repentance and accept my excuses,\n Oh! Thou who grantest repentance and acceptest the excuses of all.\n\n_Ref._: C. 286, L. 449, B. 445, S.P. 235, B. ii. 308, T. 188.--W. 276,\nN. 236, V. 488.\n\nProfessor Cowell attributes FitzGerald's quatrain to the above ruba'i.\n_Vide_ the Editorial Note previously referred to.\n\n The manager of the affairs of the dead and living art thou,\n Thou art the keeper of this unstable heaven;\n Though I am wicked, thou art my Master,\n Who can sin, seeing that thou art the Creator (of all)?\n\n_Ref._: C. 510, L. 700, B. 691, S.P. 431, P. 2, B. ii. 584.--W. 471, N.\n436, V. 753.\n\n\nLXXXII.[82]\n\n As under cover of departing Day\n Slunk hunger-stricken Ramazan away,\n Once more within the Potter's house alone\n I stood, surrounded by the Shapes of Clay.\n\n\nLXXXIII.*\n\n Shapes of all Sorts and Sizes, great and small,\n That stood along the floor and by the wall;\n And some loquacious Vessels were; and some\n Listen'd, perhaps, but never talk'd at all.\n\n\nLXXXVII (_post_).\n\nFitzGerald constructed these three quatrains from O. 103.\n\n I went last night into the workshop of a potter,\n I saw two thousand pots, some speaking, and some silent;\n Suddenly one of the pots cried out aggressively:--\n \u00abWhere are the pot-maker, and the pot-buyer, and the pot-seller?\u00bb\n\n_Ref._: O. 103, C. 301, L. 470, B. 466, S.P. 242, P. 102, B. ii. 323, T.\n202 and 297, P. v. 37.--W. 283, N. 243, E.C. 26, V. 509.\n\nIt will be observed that the reading of quatrain 87, l. 4, in the third\nedition of FitzGerald is close to this original. \u00abWho makes--Who\nbuys--Who sells--Who is the Pot?\u00bb\n\n\u00abHunger stricken Ramazan\u00bb is described in C. 198.\n\n They say that the moon of Ramazan[83] shines out again\n Henceforth one cannot linger over the wine;\n At the end of Sha'ban I will drink so much wine\n That during Ramazan I may be found drunk until the festival (arrives).\n\n_Ref._: C. 198, L. 352, B. 348, S.P. 172, P. 347, B. ii. 216, T.\n125.--W. 188, N. 172, V. 351. See also the quatrain from the \u00abNotes,\u00bb p.\n155.\n\n\nLXXXIV.\n\n Said one among them--\u00abSurely not in vain\n My substance of the common Earth was ta'en\n And to this Figure moulded, to be broke,\n Or trampled back to shapeless Earth again.\u00bb\n\nThe sentiment of this quatrain is traceable in C. 293.\n\n There is a cup which wisdom loud acclaims,\n And for its beauty gives it a hundred kisses on the brow,\n Such a sweet cup, this Potter of the World\n Makes, and then shatters it upon the ground.\n\n_Ref._: C. 293, L. 456, B. 452, B. ii. 321, T. 194.--W. 290, V. 495.\n\n\nLXXXV.\n\n Then said a Second--\u00abNe'er a peevish Boy\n Would break the Bowl from which he drank in joy;\n And he that with his hand the Vessel made\n Will surely not in after Wrath destroy.\u00bb\n\nThe inspiration for this quatrain comes from O. 19.\n\n The elements of a cup which he has put together,\n Their breaking up a drinker cannot approve;[84]\n All these heads and feet--with his finger-tips,\n For love of whom did he make them?--for hate of whom did he break them?\n\n_Ref._: O. 19, C. 64, L. 40, S.P. 37, P. ii. 7, P. 95, B. ii. 77, T.\n309.--W. 42, N. 38, V. 220.\n\n\nLXXXVI.\n\n After a momentary silence spake\n Some Vessel of a more ungainly make;\n \u00abThey sneer at me for leaning all awry:\n What! did the Hand then of the Potter shake?\u00bb\n\n\nThis quatrain is a perfect reflection and companion of all these Kuza\nNama quatrains, but I have not found a ruba'i in O. or C. which can be\npointed out as having directly inspired[85] it. It must, I think, be\nconsidered together with No. 88.\n\n\nLXXXVII.\n\n Whereat some one of the loquacious Lot--\n I think a Sufi pipkin--waxing hot--\n \u00abAll this of Pot and Potter--Tell me, then,\n Who is the Potter pray, and who the Pot?\u00bb\n\n\nLXXXVII. _Ante sub_ LXXXIII.\n\n\nLXXXVIII.\n\n \u00abWhy,\u00bb said another, \u00abSome there are who tell\n Of one who threatens he will toss to Hell\n The luckless Pots he marr'd in making--Pish!\n He's a Good Fellow, and 'twill all be well.\u00bb\n\nThe inspiration for this quatrain, and I think for No. 86, comes from C.\n69 and C. 159:\n\n Since the Director set in order the elements of natures,\n For what cause does He again disperse them into loss and deficiency?\n If they are good, why should He break them?\n And if they turn out bad, well, why is there any blame to these forms?\n\n_Ref._: C. 69, L. 103, B. 99, P. 94, B. ii. 107.--W. 126, V. 103.\n\n They say that at the resurrection there will be much searching,\n And that that excellent Friend will be hasty;\n Nothing but good ever came from the Unalloyed Goodness,\n Be happy! for the upshot will be all right!\n\n_Ref._: C. 159, L. 316, B. 312, S.P. 178, P. 197.--W. 193, N. 178, V.\n318.\n\n\nLXXXIX.\n\n \u00abWell,\u00bb murmured one, \u00abLet whoso make or buy,\n My Clay with long Oblivion is gone dry:\n But fill me with the old familiar Juice,\n Methinks I might recover by and by.\u00bb\n\nThis quatrain is inspired by C. 188 and O. 116:\n\n At that moment when the plant of my existence shall be rooted up,\n And its branches scattered in all directions;\n If then they make a flagon of my clay,\n When they fill it with wine it will live again.\n\n_Ref._: C. 188, S.P. 115.--N. 115.\n\n When I am abased beneath the foot of Destiny,\n And am rooted up from the hope of life,\n Take heed that thou makest nothing but a goblet of my clay,\n Haply when it is full of wine I may revive.\n\n_Ref._: O. 116, C. 345, L. 539, B. 534, S.P. 289, P. 227, B. ii. 385, T.\n230, P. v. 146.--W. 330, N. 290, V. 579.\n\n\nXC.\n\n So while the Vessels one by one were speaking,\n The little Moon look'd in that all were seeking:\n And then they jogg'd each other, \u00abBrother! Brother!\n Now for the Porter's shoulder-knot a-creaking!\u00bb\n\n * * * * *\n\nThis quatrain which concludes the Kuza Nama is inspired by the\nconcluding quatrain of O. 158.\n\n The month of Ramazan passes and Shawwal comes,\n The season of increase, and joy, and storytellers comes;\n Now comes that time when \u00abBottles upon the shoulder!\u00bb\n They say--for the porters come and are back to back.[86]\n\n_Ref._: O. 158.--W. 218.\n\n\nXCI.\n\n Ah, with the Grape my fading life provide,\n And wash the Body whence the Life has died,\n And lay me, shrouded in the living Leaf,\n By some not unfrequented Garden-side.\n\nThis quatrain owes its inspiration to C. 12.\n\n When I am dead wash me with wine,\n Say my funeral service with pure wine,\n If thou wishest that thou shouldst see me on the resurrection-day\n Thou must seek me in the earth of the tavern threshold.\n\n_Ref._: C. 12, L. 13, B. 12, S.P. 7, P. 299, B. ii. 9, T. 12.--W 6, N.\n7, V. 11\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: _THE APPROACH TO NAISHAPUR_\n_From a painting by I.R. Herbert_]\n\nO. 69 may also be quoted:\n\n Take heed to stay me with the wine-cup,\n And make this amber[87] face like a ruby;\n When I die, wash me with wine,\n And out of the wood of the vine make the planks of my coffin.\n\n_Ref._: O. 69, C. 158, L. 308, B. 304, S.P. 109, P. 212, B. ii. 199, T.\n143, P. v. 153.--W. 139, N. 109, V. 311.\n\n\nXCII.\n\n That ev'n my buried Ashes such a snare\n Of Vintage shall fling up into the Air\n As not a True-believer passing by\n But shall be overtaken unaware.\n\nThis quatrain is translated from C. 16.\n\n I will drink so much wine that this aroma of wine\n Shall rise from the earth when I am beneath it;\n So that when a drinker shall pass above my body,\n He shall become drunk and degraded from the aroma of my potations.\n\n_Ref._: C. 16, L. 28, B. 26, S.P. 14, B. ii. 11.--W. 17, N. 14, V. 27.\n\n\nXCIII.\n\n Indeed the Idols I have loved so long\n Have done my credit in this World much wrong;\n Have drown'd my Glory in a shallow Cup,\n And sold my Reputation for a Song.\n\nThe inspiration for this quatrain comes from C. 170.\n\n When my mood inclined to prayer and fasting,\n I said that all my salvation was attained;\n Alas! that those Ablutions[88] are destroyed by my pleasures,\n And that Fast of mine is annulled by half a draught of wine.\n\n_Ref._: C. 170, L. 366, B. 362, S.P. 162, P. 343, B. ii. 207, T.\n118.--W. 180, N. 162, V. 365.\n\nThe last line is suggested by O. 22.\n\n\nXCIV.\n\n Indeed, indeed, Repentance oft before\n I swore--but was I sober when I swore?\n And then and then came Spring, and Rose-in-hand\n My thread-bare Penitence apieces tore.\n\nThis quatrain is inspired by C. 431.\n\n Every day I resolve to repent in the evening,\n Making repentance of the brimful goblet and cup;\n Now that the season of roses[89] has come, I cannot grieve\n Give penitence for repentance in the season of roses, O Lord!\n\n_Ref._: C. 431, L. 655, B. 647 B. ii. 510.--W. 425, V. 704.\n\n\nXCV.\n\n And much as Wine has play'd the Infidel,\n And robb'd me of my Robe of Honour--Well,\n I wonder often what the Vintners buy\n One half so precious as the stuff they sell.\n\nThe original of this quatrain is O. 62.\n\n Although wine has rent my veil (of reputation),\n So long as I have a soul I will not be separated from wine;\n I am in perplexity concerning vintners, for they--\n What will they buy that is better than what they sell?\n\n_Ref._: O. 62, C. 196, L. 350, B. 346, P. 311, B. ii. 167, T. 123, P.\niv. 63, P. v. 202.--W. 208, N. 463, E.C. 11, V. 350.\n\n\nXCVI.\n\n Yet Ah, that Spring should vanish with the Rose!\n That Youth's sweet-scented manuscript should close!\n The Nightingale that in the branches sang,\n Ah whence, and whither flown again, who knows!\n\nThis quatrain is translated from C. 223.\n\n Alas! that the book of youth is folded up?\n And that this fresh purple spring is winter-stricken;[90]\n That bird of joy, whose name is Youth,\n Alas! I know not when it came nor when it went.\n\n_Ref._: C. 223, L. 332, B. 328, S.P. 128, B. ii. 155, T. 161.--W. 155,\nN. 128, V. 334.\n\n\nXCVII.*\n\n Would but the Desert of the Fountain yield\n One glimpse--if dimly, yet indeed, reveal'd,\n To which the fainting Traveller might spring,\n As springs the trampled herbage of the field!\n\nThis quatrain is inspired by C. 509.\n\n Oh! would that there were a place of repose,\n Or that we might come to the end of the road;\n Would that from the heart of earth, after a hundred thousand years,\n We might all hope to blossom again like the verdure.\n\n_Ref._: C. 509, L. 768, B. 754, S.P. 395, B. ii. 522.--W. 442, N. 400,\nV. 820.\n\n\nXCVIII.*\n\n Would but some wing\u00e9d Angel ere too late\n Arrest the yet unfolded Roll of Fate,\n And make the stern Recorder otherwise\n Enregister, or quite obliterate!\n\nThis quatrain in its original form in the second edition was closer to\nthe original Persian.\n\n Oh if the World were but to re-create,\n That we might catch ere closed the Book of Fate,\n And make the Writer on a fairer leaf\n Inscribe our names, or quite obliterate!\n\nIt owes its inspiration to N 457.\n\n I would that God should entirely alter the world,\n And that he should do it now, that I might see him do it;\n And either that he should cross my name from the Roll,\n Or else raise my condition from want to plenty.[91]\n\n_Ref._: N. 457, S.P. 451.--W. 486, V. 841.\n\n\nXCIX.\n\n Ah, Love! could you and I with Him conspire\n To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,\n Would not we shatter it to bits--and then\n Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!\n\n * * * * *\n\nThis quatrain is translated from C. 395.\n\n Had I, like God, control of the heavens,\n Would I not do away with the heavens altogether,\n Would I not so construct another heaven from the beginning\n That, being free, one might attain to the heart's desire?\n\n_Ref._: C. 395, L. 594, B. 587, S.P. 337, P. 98, B. ii, 450, T. 268.--W.\n379, N. 340, V. 641.\n\n\nC.\n\n Yon rising moon that looks for us again--\n How oft hereafter will she wax and wane;\n How oft hereafter rising look for us\n Through this same Garden--and for _one_ in vain.\n\nThis quatrain in its various forms is inspired by O. 5.\n\n Since no one will guarantee thee a to-morrow,\n Make thou happy now this lovesick heart;[92]\n Drink wine in the moonlight, O Moon, for the moon[93]\n Shall seek us long and shall not find us.\n\n_Ref._: O. 5, C. 7, L. 5, S.P. 8, P. 219, B. 4, B. ii. 8, T. 6, P. v.\n168.--W. 7, N. 8, E.C. 5, V. 4.\n\n\nCI.\n\n And when like her, Oh Saki, you shall pass\n Among the Guests Star-scatter'd on the Grass,\n And in your joyous errand reach the spot\n Where I made One--turn down an empty Glass!\n\nThis quatrain is taken from O. 83 and 84.\n\n Friends when ye hold a meeting together,\n It behoves ye warmly to remember your friend;\n When ye drink wholesome wine together,\n And my turn comes, turn (a goblet) upside down.\n\n_Ref_.: O. 83.--W. 234, V. 459.\n\n Friends, when with consent ye make a tryst together,\n And take delight in one another's charms,\n When the Cup-bearer takes (round) in his hand the Mugh[94] wine,\n Remember a certain helpless one in your benediction.\n\n_Ref._: O. 84, L. 290, B. 286, S.P. 191, P. 226, B. ii. 245.--W. 205, N.\n192, V. 293.\n\n\n\n\nAPPENDIX.\n\n\nIn addition to the quatrains composing the final form in which we know\nhis poem, there are a few stray quatrains scattered about Edward\nFitzGerald's Introduction and Notes. There are also two quatrains which\nappeared in the first edition only, and nine that appeared in the second\nedition only. I do not think that this work would be complete without an\nattempt to identify these quatrains in the original texts which inspired\nthem.\n\n\nIN THE INTRODUCTION.[95]\n\nPAGE 4.\n\n Khayyam, who stitched the Tents of Science,\n Has fallen in Grief's furnace and been suddenly burned;\n The shears of Fate have cut the tent-ropes of his life,\n And the Broker of Hope has sold him for nothing!\n\nThe quatrain upon p. 4 is a literal translation by Prof. Cowell of O.\n22.\n\n_Ref._: O. 22, C. 59, L. 74, B. 70, S.P. 81, P. 205, B. ii. 94, T. 307,\nP. iv. 65, P. v. 195.--W. 83, N. 81, V. 73.\n\n\nPAGE 7.\n\n Oh, Thou who burn'st in Heart for those who burn\n In Hell, whose fires thyself shall feed in turn;\n How long be crying, \u00abMercy on them, God!\u00bb\n Why, who art Thou to teach, and He to learn?\n\nThe quatrain upon p. 7 is FitzGerald's rendering of C. I.\n\n O, burnt one (born) of the burnt! destined in turn to burn,\n And oh, thou! from whom the fires of Hell shall blaze,[96]\n How long wilt thou keep saying, \u00abHave mercy upon Omar!\u00bb\n Wilt _thou_ be a teacher of mercy to _God_?\n\n_Ref._: C. 1, L. 769, B. 755, S.P. 453, P. ii. 1, B. ii. 537, T. 1.--W.\n488, N. 459, V. 821.\n\n\nPAGE 7.\n\n If I myself upon a looser Creed\n Have loosely strung the Jewel of Good deed,\n Let this one thing for my Atonement plead.\n That One for Two I never did misread.\n\nThe quatrain on p. 7 is FitzGerald's rendering of O. 1.\n\n If I have never threaded the pearl[97] of thy service,\n And if I have never wiped the dust of sin from my face,\n Nevertheless, I am not hopeless of thy mercy,\n For the reason that I have never said that One was Two.[98]\n\n_Ref._: O. 1, C. 274, L. 423, B. 419, P. 4, S.P. 228, B. ii. 302, P. iv.\n8.--W. 268, N. 229, V. 461.\n\n\n\n\nIN THE NOTES.\n\n\nXVIII.\n\n The Palace that to Heav'n his pillars threw,\n And Kings the forehead on his threshold drew--\n I saw the solitary Ringdove there,\n And \u00abCoo, coo, coo!\u00bb she cried, and \u00abCoo, coo, coo.\u00bb\n\nThe quatrain in the note to quatrain No. 18 is translated from C. 419.\n\n That palace that reared its pillars up to heaven,\n Kings prostrated themselves upon its threshold;\n I saw a dove that, upon its battlements,\n Uttered its cry: \u00abWhere, where, where, where?\u00bb[99]\n\n_Ref._: C. 419, L. 627, B. 619, S.P. 347, P. 140, B. ii. 459, P. iv.\n13.--W. 392, N. 350, V. 677.\n\n\nXC.\n\n Be of Good Cheer--the sullen Month will die,\n And a young Moon requite us by and by:\n Look how the Old one, meagre, bent, and wan\n With Age and Past, is fainting from the Sky!\n\nThe quatrain in the note to quatrain No. 90 is translated from C. 218.\n\n Be happy! for the moon of thy festival will come,\n The means of mirth will all be propitious;\n This moon has become lean, bent-figured and thin,\n Thou may'st say that it will sink under this trouble.\n\n_Ref._: C. 218, B. ii. 186.\n\n\n\n\nIN THE FIRST EDITION.\n\n\nXXXIII.\n\n Then to the rolling Heav'n itself I cried,\n Asking, \u00abWhat Lamp had Destiny to guide\n \u00abHer little Children stumbling in the Dark?\u00bb\n And--\u00abA blind Understanding\u00bb Heav'n replied.\n\n\nXLV.\n\n But leave the Wise to wrangle, and with me\n The quarrel of the Universe let be;\n And, in some corner of the Hubbub coucht,\n Make Game of that which makes as much of Thee.\n\n\nXXXVII.\n\n Ah! fill the Cup--what boots it to repeat\n How Time is slipping underneath our Feet?\n Unborn To-morrow and dead Yesterday.\n Why fret about them if To-day be sweet?\n\nIn the first edition we find quatrain No. 33, which, like its distant\ncousin in the fourth edition (No. 34), appears to have no near parallel\nin the texts. No. 45 is a quatrain in a like predicament, and it may be\nfor this reason that FitzGerald dropped it out of all subsequent\neditions.\n\nThe only other quatrain peculiar to the first edition is No. 37. This\nwould appear to have been inspired by ll. 3 and 4 of O. 20, quoted in\nthe parallels to quatrain No. 57 and by O. 17, ll. 3 and 4.\n\n Nothing thou canst say of yesterday, that is past, is sweet;\n Be happy and do not speak of yesterday, for to-day is sweet.\n\n_Ref._: O. 17, C. 84, L. 193, B. 190, P. 126, B. ii. 59, T. 65 and 352,\nP. iv. 68, P. v. 62.--W 112, E.C. 6, V. 189.\n\n\n\n\nIN THE SECOND EDITION.\n\n\nThe quatrains peculiar to the second edition are as follows:\n\n\nXIV.\n\n Were it not Folly, Spider-like to spin\n The Thread of present Life away to win--\n What? for ourselves, who know not if we shall\n Breathe out the very Breath we now breathe in!\n\nThis quatrain is inspired by O. 136.\n\n How long shall I grieve about what I have or have not,\n And whether I shall pass this life light-heartedly or not?\n Fill up the wine-cup, for I do not know\n That I shall breathe out the breath that I am drawing in.\n\n_Ref._: O. 136, C. 504 and 427, L. 740, B. 726, S.P. 362, P. 207, B. ii.\n484, P. v. 64.--W. 411, N. 366, V. 730.\n\n\nXXVIII.\n\nThis was replaced by No. 63 in the fourth and fifth editions, taken from\nthe same original.\n\n\nXLIV.\n\n Do you, within your little hour of Grace,\n The waving Cypress in your Arms enlace,\n Before the Mother back into her arms\n Fold, and dissolve you in a last embrace.\n\nThe sentiment of this quatrain is traceable in C. 189, ll. 1 and 2, and\nin C. 195.\n\n Be happy! for the time will come\n (When) all bodies will be hidden in the earth.\n\n_Ref._: C. 189, L. 393, B. 389, S.P. 160, B. ii. 203.--N. 160, V. 390.\n\n My whole mood is in sympathy with rosy cheeks,\n My hand is always grasping the wine cup;\n I exact from every part (of me) its allotted function,\n Ere that those parts (of me) be mingled with the all.\n\n_Ref._: C. 195, L. 349, B. 345, S.P. 163, P. 287, B. ii. 206, T.\n122.--W. 181, N. 163, V. 349.\n\n\nLXV.\n\n If but the Vine and Love-abjuring Band\n Are in the Prophet's Paradise to stand,\n Alack, I doubt the Prophet's Paradise\n Were empty as the hollow of one's Hand.\n\nThis quatrain is inspired by O. 127 and by C. 60.\n\n To drink wine and consort with a company of the beautiful\n Is better than practising the hypocrisy of the zealot;\n If the lover and the drunkard are doomed to hell,\n Then no one will see the face of heaven.\n\n_Ref._: O. 127, L. 608, B. 601, S.P. 339, P. 330, B. ii. 453, P. v.\n151.--W. 381, N. 342, V. 655.\n\nFitzGerald was evidently \u00abreminded of\u00bb this by N. 64 which is C. 60.\n\n They say that drunkards will go to hell,\n It is a repugnant creed, the heart cannot believe it;\n If drunken lovers are doomed to hell,\n To-morrow heaven will be bare like the palm of one's hand.\n\n_Ref._: C. 60, L. 158, B. 155, S.P. 64, T. 308, P. v. 29.--W. 67, N 64,\nV. 156.\n\n\nLXXVII.\n\n For let Philosopher and Doctor preach\n Of what they will, and what they will not,--each\n Is but one Link in an eternal Chain\n That none can slip, or break, or over-reach.\n\nFor this quatrain I can find neither authority nor inspiration.\n\n\nLXXXVI.\n\n Nay, but, for terror of his wrathful Face,\n I swear I will not call Injustice Grace;\n Not one Good Fellow of the Tavern but\n Would kick so poor a Coward from the place.\n\nI think the inspiration for this must have been C. 8.\n\n No man is he whom his fellow men spurn,\n And (at the same time) for fear of his malice number among the good;\n If a drunkard shows reluctance in generosity,\n All his fellow drunkards hold him to be a mean fellow.\n\n_Ref._: C. 8, L. 3, B. ii. 15, T. 9.--V. 416.\n\n\nXC.\n\n And once again there gather'd a scarce heard\n Whisper among them; as it were, the stirr'd\n Ashes of some all but extinguisht Tongue,\n Which mine ear kindled into living Word.\n\nThis was a fourth quatrain evolved out of O. 103. _Vide_ quatrains Nos.\n82, 83, and 87 _ante_.\n\n\nXCIX.\n\n Whither resorting from the vernal Heat\n Shall Old Acquaintance Old Acquaintance greet,\n Under the Branch that leans above the Wall\n To shed his Blossom over head and feet.\n\nThis quatrain, interpolated after No. 91 of the fourth edition (= No. 98\nof the second edition), is an elaboration founded upon the story told by\nNizam ul-Mulk and recorded by FitzGerald in his Introduction.\n\n\nCVII.\n\n Better, oh better, cancel from the Scroll\n Of Universe one luckless Human Soul,\n Than drop by drop enlarge the Flood that rolls\n Hoarser with Anguish as the Ages roll.\n\nThis quatrain, interpolated after the quatrain which became No. XCVIII.\nin the fourth edition, was no doubt inspired by N. 457 (_q.v. sub_ No.\n98 _ante_) and by O. 54.\n\n What the Pen has written never changes,\n And grieving only results in deep affliction;\n Even through all thy life thou weepest tears of blood,\n Not one drop becomes increased beyond what it is.\n\n_Ref._: O. 54, B. ii. 144.\n\n\n\n\nVARIATIONS\n\nBETWEEN THE SECOND, THIRD AND FOURTH EDITIONS OF FITZGERALD'S\nTRANSLATION OF\n\nOMAR KHAYYAM\n\n\nSTANZA\n\nI. In ed. 2:\n\n Wake! For the Sun behind yon Eastern height\n Has chased the Session of the Stars from Night;\n And, to the field of Heav'n ascending, strikes\n The Sultan's Turret with a Shaft of Light.\n\nIn the first draft of ed. 3 the first and second lines stood thus\n\n Wake! For the Sun before him into Night\n A Signal flung that put the Stars to flight.\n\nII. In ed. 2:\n\n Why lags the drowsy Worshipper outside?\n\nV. In edd. 2 and 3:\n\n But still a Ruby gushes from the Vine.\n\nIX. In edd. 2 and 3:\n\n Morning a thousand Roses brings, you say.\n\nX. In ed. 2:\n\n Let Rustum cry \u00abTo Battle!\u00bb as he likes,\n Or Hatim Tai \u00abTo Supper!\u00bb--heed not you\n\nIn ed. 3:\n\n Let Zal and Rustum thunder as they will.\n\nSTANZA\n\nXII. In ed. 2:\n\n Here with a little Bread beneath the Bough,\n A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse--and Thou, etc.\n\nXIII. In ed. 2:\n\n Ah, take the Cash, and let the Promise go,\n Nor heed the music of a distant Drum!\n\nXX. In ed. 2:\n\n And this delightful Herb whose living Green.\n\nXXII. In edd. 2 and 3:\n\n That from his Vintage rolling Time has prest.\n\nXXVI. In edd. 2 and 3.\n\n Of the Two Worlds so learnedly, are thrust.\n\nXXVII. In ed. 2:\n\n Came out by the same door as in I went.\n\nXXVIII. In edd. 2 and 3.\n\n And with my own hand wrought to make it grow.\n\nXXX. In ed. 2.\n\n Ah, contrite Heav'n endowed us with the Vine\n To drug the memory of that insolence!\nXXXI. In ed. 2:\n\n And many Knots unravel'd by the Road.\n\nXXXII. In edd. 2 and 3:\n\n There was the Veil through which I could not see.\n\nXXXIII. In ed. 2:\n\n Nor Heav'n, with those eternal Signs reveal'd.\n\nXXXIV. In ed. 2:\n\n Then of the THEE IN ME who works behind\n The Veil of Universe I cried to find\n A Lamp to guide me through the darkness; and\n Something then said--\u00abAn Understanding blind.\u00bb\n\nXXXV. In ed. 2:\n\n I lean'd, the secret Well of Life to learn.\n\nSTANZA\n\nXXXVI. In ed. 2:\n\n And drink; and that impassive Lip I kiss'd.\n\nXXXVIII. In ed. 2 the only difference is \u00abFor\u00bb instead of \u00abAnd\u00bb in the\nfirst line; but in the first draft of ed. 3 the stanza appeared thus:\n\n For, in your Ear a moment--of the same\n Poor Earth from which that Human Whisper came,\n The luckless Mould in which Mankind was cast\n They did compose, and call'd him by the name.\n\nIn ed. 3 the first line was altered to--\n\n Listen--a moment listen!--Of the same, etc.\n\nXXXIX. In ed. 2:\n\n On the parcht herbage but may steal below.\n\nXL. In ed. 2:\n\n As then the Tulip for her wonted sup\n Of Heavenly Vintage lifts her chalice up,\n Do you, twin offspring of the soil, till Heav'n\n To Earth invert you like an empty Cup.\n\nIn the first draft of ed. 3 the stanza is the same as in edd. 3 and 4,\nexcept that the second line is--\n\n Of Wine from Heav'n her little Tass lifts up.\n\nXLI. In ed. 2 and the first draft of ed. 3:\n\n Oh, plagued no more with Human or Divine\n To-morrow's tangle to itself resign.\n\nXLII. In ed. 2:\n\n And if the Cup you drink, the Lip you press,\n End in what All begins and ends in--Yes;\n Imagine then you _are_ what heretofore\n You _were_--hereafter you shall not be less.\n\nThe first draft of ed. 3 agrees with edd. 3 and 4, except that the first\nline is--\n\n And if the Cup, and if the Lip you press.\n\nSTANZA\n\nXLIII. In ed. 2:\n\n So when at last the Angel of the drink\n Of Darkness finds you by the river-brink,\n And, proffering his Cup, invites your Soul\n Forth to your Lips to quaff it--do not shrink.\n\nIn the first draft of ed. 3 the only change made was from \u00abproffering\u00bb\nto \u00aboffering,\u00bb but in ed. 3 the stanza assumed the form in which it also\nappeared in ed. 4. The change from \u00abthe Angel\u00bb to \u00abthat Angel\u00bb was made\nin MS. by FitzGerald in a copy of ed. 4.\n\nXLIV. In ed. 2:\n\n Is't not a shame--is't not a shame for him\n So long in this Clay suburb to abide!\n\nXLV. In ed. 2:\n\n But that is but a Tent wherein may rest.\n\nXLVI. In ed. 2:\n\n And fear not lest Existence closing _your_\n Account, should lose, or know the type no more.\n\nXLVII. In ed. 2:\n\n As much as Ocean of a pebble-cast.\n\nIn ed. 3:\n\n As the SEV'N SEAS should heed a pebble-cast.\n\nXLVIII. In ed. 2:\n\n One Moment in Annihilation's Waste,\n One Moment, of the Well of Life to taste--\n The Stars are setting, and the Caravan\n Draws to the Dawn of Nothing--Oh make haste.\n\nIn the first draft of ed. 3 the third line originally stood:\n\n Before the starting Caravan has reach'd\n\nthe rest of the stanza being as in edd. 3 and 4.\n\nSTANZA\n\nXLIX. In ed. 2:\n\n A Hair, they say, divides the False and True.\n\nThe change from \u00abdoes\u00bb to \u00abmay\u00bb in the last line was made by FitzGerald\nin MS.\n\nL. In ed. 2:\n\n A Hair, they say, divides the False and True.\n\nLII. In edd. 2 and 3:\n\n He does Himself contrive, enact, behold.\n\nLIII. In the first draft of ed. 3:\n\n To-morrow, when You shall be You no more.\n\nLIV. In ed. 2:\n\n Better be merry with the fruitful Grape.\n\nLV. In ed. 2:\n\n You know, my Friends, how bravely in my House\n For a new Marriage I did make Carouse.\n\nLVII. In ed. 2:\n\n Have squared the Year to Human Compass, eh?\n If so, by striking from the Calendar.\n\nLXII. In ed. 2\n\n When the frail Cup is crumbled into Dust!\n\nLXIII. In ed. 2:\n\n The Flower that once is blown for ever dies.\n\nLXV. In edd. 2 and 3:\n\n They told their fellows, and to Sleep return'd.\n\nLXVI. In ed. 2:\n\n And after many days my Soul return'd\n And said, \u00abBehold, Myself am Heav'n and Hell.\u00bb\n\nLXVII. In ed. 2:\n\n And Hell the Shadow of a Soul on fire.\n\nLXVIII. In ed. 2:\n\n Of visionary Shapes that come and go\n Round with this Sun-illumin'd Lantern held.\n\nLXIX. In ed. 2:\n\n Impotent Pieces of the Game He plays.\n\nLXX. In ed. 2:\n\n But Right or Left as strikes the Player goes.\n\nSTANZA\n\nLXXII. In ed. 2 and the first draft of ed. 3:\n\n And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky.\n\nIn edd. 2 and 3:\n\n As impotently rolls as you or I.\n\nLXXIX. In ed. 2:\n\n Pure Gold for what he lent us dross-allay'd.\n\nLXXXI. In ed. 2:\n\n For all the Sin the Face of wretched Man\n Is black with--Man's Forgiveness give--and take!\n\nLXXXIII. In ed. 2:\n\n And once again there gather'd a scarce heard\n Whisper among them; as it were, the stirr'd\n Ashes of some all but extinguisht Tongue\n Which mine ear kindled into living Word.\n\nLXXXIV. In ed. 2:\n\n My Substance from the common Earth was ta'en,\n That He who subtly wrought me into Shape\n Should stamp me back to shapeless Earth again?\n\nLXXXV. In ed. 2\n\n Another said--\u00abWhy, ne'er a peevish Boy\n Would break the Cup from which he drank in Joy;\n Shall He that of His own free Fancy made\n The Vessel, in an after-rage destroy!\u00bb\n\nLXXXVI. In ed. 2:\n\n None answer'd this, but after silence spake.\n\nLXXXVII. In ed. 2:\n\n Thus with the Dead as with the Living, _What?_\n And _Why?_ so ready, but the _Wherefor_ not,\n One on a sudden peevishly exclaim'd,\n \u00abWhich is the Potter, pray, and which the Pot?\u00bb\n\nSTANZA\n\nLXXXVIII. In ed. 2:\n\n Said one--\u00abFolks of a surly Master tell,\n And daub his Visage with the Smoke of Hell;\n They talk of some sharp Trial of us--Pish!\n He's a Good Fellow, and 'twill all be well.\u00bb\n\nIn the first draft of ed. 3. the stanza begins:\n\n \u00abWhy,\u00bb said another, \u00abDismal people tell\n Of an old Savage who will toss to Hell\n The luckless Pots,\u00bb etc.\n\nLXXXIX. In ed. 2:\n\n \u00abWell,\u00bb said another, \u00abWhoso will, let try.\u00bb\n\nXC. In ed. 2:\n\n One spied the little Crescent all were seeking.\n\nXCI. In ed. 2:\n\n And wash my Body whence the Life has died.\n\nXCIII. In ed. 2:\n\n Have done my credit in Men's eye much wrong.\n\nXCV. In ed. 2:\n\n One half so precious as the ware they sell.\n\nXCVII. In ed. 2:\n\n Toward which the fainting Traveller might spring.\n\nXCVIII. In ed. 2:\n\n Oh if the World were but to re-create,\n That we might catch ere closed the Book of Fate,\n And make The Writer on a fairer leaf\n Inscribe our names, or quite obliterate!\n\nXCIX. In ed. 2:\n\n Ah Love! could you and I with Fate conspire.\n\nC. In ed. 2:\n\n But see! The rising Moon of Heav'n again\n Looks for us, Sweet-heart, through the quivering Plane:\n How oft hereafter rising will she look\n Among those leaves--for one of us in vain!\n\nSTANZA\n\nCI. In ed. 2:\n\n And when Yourself with silver Foot shall pass.\n\nIn the first draft of ed. 3 \u00abFoot\u00bb is changed to \u00abstep.\u00bb\n\nIn ed. 3:\n\n And in your blissful errand reach the spot.\n\n\nSTANZAS WHICH APPEAR IN THE SECOND EDITION ONLY\n\n XIV. Were it not Folly, Spider-like to spin\n The Thread of present Life away to win--\n What? for ourselves, who know not if we shall\n Breathe out the very Breath we now breathe in!\n\n XX. (This stanza is quoted in the note to stanza XVIII.\n in the third and fourth editions.)\n\n XXVIII. Another Voice, when I am sleeping, cries,\n \u00abThe Flower should open with the Morning skies.\u00bb\n And a retreating Whisper, as I wake--\n \u00abThe Flower that once has blown for ever dies.\u00bb\n\n XLIV. Do you, within your little hour of Grace,\n The waving Cypress in your Arms enlace,\n Before the Mother back into her arms\n Fold, and dissolve you in a last embrace.\n\n LXV. If but the Vine and Love-abjuring Band\n Are in the Prophet's Paradise to stand,\n Alack, I doubt the Prophet's Paradise\n Were empty as the hollow of one's Hand.\n\n LXXVII. For let Philosopher and Doctor preach\n Of what they will, and what they will not--each\n Is but one Link in an eternal Chain\n That none can slip, or break, or over-reach.\n\n LXXXVI. Nay, but, for terror of his wrathful Face,\n I swear I will not call Injustice Grace,\n Not one Good Fellow of the Tavern but\n Would kick so poor a Coward from the place.\n\n XC. And once again there gather'd a scarce heard\n Whisper among them; as it were, the stirr'd\n Ashes of some all but extinguisht Tongue,\n Which mine ear kindled into living Word.\n\n(In the third and fourth editions stanza LXXXIII. takes the place of\nthis.)\n\n XCIX. Whither resorting from the vernal Heat\n Shall Old Acquaintance Old Acquaintance greet,\n Under the Branch that leans above the Wall\n To shed his Blossom over head and feet.\n\n(This was retained in the first draft of ed. 3.)\n\n CVII. Better, oh better, cancel from the Scroll\n Of Universe one luckless Human Soul,\n Than drop by drop enlarge the Flood that rolls\n Hoarser with Anguish as the Ages Roll.\n\n\n\n\nQUATRAINS OF OMAR KHAYYAM\n\n\nCOMPARATIVE TABLE OF STANZAS IN THE FOUR[100] EDITIONS OF FITZGERALD\n\n Ed. 1 Ed. 2 Edd. 3 and 4\n I I I\n II II II\n III III III\n IV IV IV\n V V V\n VI VI VI\n VII VII VII\n VIII IX IX\n IX X X\n X XI XI\n XI XII XII\n XII XIII XIII\n XIII XV XIV\n XIV XVII XVI\n XV XVI XV\n XVI XVIII XVII\n XVII XIX XVIII\n XVIII XXIV XIX\n XIX XXV XX\n XX XXI XXI\n XXI XXII XXII\n XXII XXIII XXIII\n XXIII XXVI XXIV\n XXIV XXVII XXV\n XXV XXIX XXVI\n XXVI LXVI LXIII\n XXVII XXX XXVII\n XXVIII XXXI XXVIII\n XXIX XXXII XXIX\n XXX XXXIII XXX\n XXXI XXXIV XXXI\n XXXII XXXV XXXII\n XXXIII XXXVII XXXIV\n XXXIV XXXVIII XXXV\n XXXV XXXIX XXXVI\n XXXVI XL XXXVII\n XXXVII\n XXXVIII XLIX XLVIII\n XXXIX LVI LIV\n XL LVII LV\n XLI LVIII LVI\n XLII LX LVIII\n XLIII LXI LIX\n XLIV LXII LX\n XLV\n XLVI LXXIII LXVIII\n XLVII XLV XLII\n XLVIII XLVI XLIII\n XLIX LXXIV LXIX\n L LXXV LXX\n LI LXXVI LXXI\n LII LXXVIII LXXII\n LIII LXXIX LXXIII\n LIV LXXXI LXXV\n LV LXXXII LXXVI\n LVI LXXXIII LXXVII\n LVII LXXXVII LXXX\n LVIII LXXXVIII LXXXI\n LIX LXXXIX LXXXII\n LX XCIV LXXXVII\n LXI XCI LXXXIV\n LXII XCII LXXXV\n LXIII XCIII LXXXVI\n LXIV XCV LXXXVIII\n LXV XCVI LXXXIX\n LXVI XCVII XC\n LXVII XCVIII XCI\n LXVIII C XCII\n LXIX CI XCIII\n LXX CII XCIV\n LXXI CIII XCV\n LXXII CIV XCVI\n LXXIII CVIII XCIX\n LXXIV CIX C\n LXXV CX CI\n VIII VIII\n XIV\n Note on\n XX XVIII\n\n XXVIII\n XXXVI XXXIII\n XLI XXXVIII\n XLII XXXIX\n XLIII XL\n XLIV\n XLVII XLVI\n XLVIII XLVII\n L XLIX\n LI L\n LII LI\n LIII LII\n LIV LIII\n LV XLI\n LIX LVII\n LXIII LXI\n LXIV LXII\n LXV\n LXVII LXIV\n LXVIII LXV\n LXIX XLIV\n LXX XLV\n LXXI LXVI\n LXXII LXVII\n LXXVII\n LXXX LXXIV\n LXXXIV LXXVIII\n LXXXV LXXIX\n LXXXVI\n XC LXXXIII\n XCIX\n CV XCVII\n CVI XCVIII\n CVII\n\n\n\n\nNOTE\n\n\nIt must be admitted that FitzGerald took great liberties with the\noriginal in his version of Omar Khayyam. The first stanza is entirely\nhis own, and in stanza XXXI. of the fourth edition (XXXVI. in the\nsecond) he has introduced two lines from Attar. (See \u00abLetters,\u00bb p. 251.)\nIn stanza LXXXI. (fourth edition), writes Professor Cowell, \u00abThere is no\noriginal for the line about the snake: I have looked for it in vain in\nNicolas; but I have always supposed that the last line is FitzGerald's\nmistaken version of Quatr. 236 in Nicolas's ed. which runs thus:\n\n \u00abO thou who knowest the secrets of every one's mind,\n Who graspest every one's hand in the hour of weakness,\n O God, give me repentance and accept my excuses,\n O thou who givest repentance and acceptest the excuses of every one.\n\n\u00abFitzGerald mistook the meaning of _giving_ and _accepting_ as used\nhere, and so invented his last line out of his own mistake. I wrote to\nhim about it when I was in Calcutta; but he never cared to alter it.\u00bb\n\n\n\n\n THE\n\n QUATRAINS OF OMAR KHAYYAM\n\n TRANSLATED BY\n\n E.H. WHINFIELD, M.A.\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\nOmar is a poet who can hardly be translated satisfactorily otherwise\nthan in verse. Prose does well enough for narrative or didactic poetry,\nwhere the main things to be reproduced are the matter and substance, but\nit is plainly contra-indicated in the case of poetry like Omar's, where\nthe matter is little else than \u00abthe commonplaces of the lyric ode and\nthe tragic chorus,\u00bb and where nearly the whole charm consists in the\nstyle and the manner, the grace of the expression and the melody of the\nversification. A literal prose version of such poetry must needs be\nunsatisfactory, because it studiously ignores the chief points in which\nthe attractiveness of the original consists, and deliberately renounces\nall attempt to reproduce them.\n\nIn deciding on the form to be taken by a new translation of Omar, the\nfact of the existence of a previous verse translation of universally\nacknowledged merit ought not, of course, to be left out of account. The\nsuccessor of a translator like Mr. Fitzgerald, who ventures to write\nverse, and especially verse of the metre which he has handled with such\nsuccess, cannot help feeling at almost every step that he is provoking\ncomparisons very much to his own disadvantage. But I do not think this\nconsideration ought to deter him from using the vehicle which everything\nelse indicates as the proper one.\n\nAs regards metre, there is no doubt that the quatrain of ten-syllable\nlines which has been tried by Hammer, Bicknell, and others, and has been\nraised by Mr. Fitzgerald almost to the rank of a recognised English\nmetre, is the best representative of the _Ruba'i_. It fairly satisfies\nConington's canon, viz., that there ought to be some degree of metrical\nconformity between the measure of the original and the translation, for\nthough it does not exactly correspond with the _Ruba'i_, it very\nclearly suggests it. In particular, it copies what is perhaps the most\nmarked feature of the _Ruba'i_,--the interlinking of the four lines by\nthe repetition in the fourth line of the rhyme of the first and second.\nMr Swinburne's modification of this metre, in which the rhyme is carried\non from one quatrain to the next, is not applicable to poems like\nOmar's, all of which are isolated in sense from the context.\nAlexandrines would, of course, correspond more nearly than decasyllables\nwith _Ruba'i_ lines in number of syllables, and they have been\nextensively used by Bodenstedt and other German translators of the metre\nbut, whatever may be the case in German, they are apt to read very\nheavily in English, even when constructed by skilful verse-makers, and\nan inferior workman can hardly hope to manage them with anything like\nsuccess. The shorter length of the decasyllable line is not altogether a\ndisadvantage to the translator. Owing to the large number of\nmonosyllables in English, it is generally adequate to hold the contents\nof a Persian line a syllable or two longer; and a line erring, if at\nall, on the side of brevity, has at any rate the advantage of obliging\nthe translator to eschew modern diffuseness, and of making him try to\ncopy the \u00abclassical parsimony,\u00bb the archaic terseness and condensation\nof the original.\n\nThe poet Cowper has a remark on translation from Latin which is\neminently true also of translation from Persian. He says, \u00abThat is\nepigrammatic and witty in Latin which would be perfectly insipid in\nEnglish.... If a Latin poem is neat, elegant, and musical, it is enough,\nbut English readers are not so easily satisfied.\u00bb Much of Omar's matter,\nwhen literally translated, seems very trite and commonplace, many of the\n\u00abconceits,\u00bb of which he is so fond, very frigid, and even his peculiar\ngrotesque humour often loses its savour in an English _replica_. The\ntranslator is often tempted to elevate a too grovelling sentiment, to\n\u00absharpen a point\u00bb here and there, to trick out a commonplace with some\nborrowed modern embellishment. But this temptation is one to be resisted\nas far as possible. According to the _Hadis_, \u00abThe business of a\nmessenger is simply to deliver his message,\u00bb and he must not shrink from\ndisplaying the naked truth. A translator who writes in verse must of\ncourse claim the liberty of altering the form of the expression over and\nover again, but the substituted expressions ought to be in keeping with\nthe author's style, and on the same plane of sentiment as his. It is\nbeyond the province of a translator to attempt the task of \u00abpainting the\nlily.\u00bb But it is easier to lay down correct principles of translation\nthan to observe them unswervingly in one's practice.\n\nAs regards subject matter, Omar's quatrains may be classed under the\nfollowing six heads:--\n\nI. _Shikayat i rozgar_--Complaints of \u00abthe wheel of heaven,\u00bb or fate, of\nthe world's injustice, of the loss of friends, of man's limited\nfaculties and destinies.\n\nII. _Hajw_--Satires on the hypocrisy of the \u00abunco' guid,\u00bb the impiety of\nthe pious, the ignorance of the learned, and the untowardness of his own\ngeneration.\n\nIII. _Firakiya_ and _Wisaliya_--Love-poems on the sorrows of separation\nand the joys of reunion with the Beloved, earthly or spiritual.\n\nIV. _Bahariya_--Poems in praise of spring, gardens, and flowers.\n\nV. _Kufriya_--Irreligious and antinomian utterances, charging the sins\nof the creature to the account of the Creator, scoffing at the Prophet's\nParadise and Hell, singing the praises of wine and pleasure--preaching\n_ad nauseam_, \u00abeat and drink (especially drink), for to-morrow ye die.\u00bb\n\nVI. _Munajat_--Addresses to the Deity, now in the ordinary language of\ndevotion, bewailing sins and imploring pardon, now in Mystic\nphraseology, craving deliverance from \u00abself,\u00bb and union with the \u00abTruth\u00bb\n(_Al Hakk_), or Deity, as conceived by the Mystics.\n\nThe \u00abcomplaints\u00bb may obviously be connected with the known facts of the\npoet's life, by supposing them to have been prompted by the persecution\nto which he was subjected on account of his opinions. His remarks on the\nHouris and other sacred subjects raised such a feeling against him that\nat one time his life was in danger, and the wonder is that he escaped\nat all in a city like Naishapur, where the _odium theologicum_ raged so\nfiercely as to occasion a sanguinary civil war. In the year 489 A.H., as\nwe learn from Ibn Al Athir,[101] the orthodox banded themselves together\nunder the leadership of Abul Kasim and Muhammad, the chiefs of the\nHanefites and the Shafeites, in order to exterminate the Kerramians or\nAnthropomorphist heretics, and succeeded in putting many of them to\ndeath, and destroying all their establishments. It may be also that\nafter the death of his patron, Nizam ul Mulk, Omar lost his stipend and\nwas reduced to poverty.\n\nThe satires probably owed their origin to the same cause. _Rien soulage\ncomme la rhetorique_, and if Omar could not relieve his feelings by open\nabuse of his persecutors, he made up for it by the bitterness of his\nverses. The bitterness of his strictures on them was no doubt fully\nequalled by the rancour of their attacks upon him.\n\nThe love-poems are samples of a class of compositions much commoner in\nlater poets than in Omar. Most of them probably bear a mystical meaning,\nfor I doubt if Omar was a person very susceptible of the tender passion.\nHe speaks with appreciation of \u00abtulip cheeks\u00bb and \u00abcypress forms,\u00bb but\napparently recognises no attractions of a higher order in his fair\nfriends.\n\nThe poems in praise of scenery again offer a strong contrast to modern\ntreatment of the same theme. The only aspects of nature noticed by Omar\nare such as affect the senses agreeably--the bright flowers, the song of\nthe nightingale, the grassy bank of the stream, and the shady garden\nassociated in his mind with his convivial parties. The geographer\ntranslated by Sir W. Ouseley says of Naishapur, \u00abThe city is watered by\na subterranean canal, which is conveyed to the fields and gardens, and\nthere is a considerable stream that waters the city and the villages\nabout it--this stream is named _Saka_. In all the provinces of Khorassan\nthere is not any city larger than Naishapur, nor any blessed with a more\npure and temperate air. \u00bb No doubt it was some of these gardens that\ncalled forth Omar's encomiums.\n\nBut it is in the _Kufriya_, or antinomian quatrains, and in the\n_Munajat_, or pious aspirations, that the most remarkable and\ncharacteristic features of Omar's poetry are exhibited. The glaring\ncontrast between these two classes of his poetry has led his readers to\ntake very opposite views of him, according as they looked at one or the\nother side of the shield. European critics, like his contemporaries,\nmostly consider him an infidel and a voluptuary \u00abof like mind with\nSardanapalus.\u00bb On the other hand, the Sufis have contrived to affix\nmystical and devotional meanings even to his most Epicurean quatrains;\nand this method of interpretation is nowadays as universally accepted in\nPersia and India as the Mystical interpretation of the Canticles is in\nEurope. But neither of these views can be accepted in its entirety. Even\nif the Sufi symbolism had been definitely formulated as early as Omar's\ntime, which is very doubtful, common sense would forbid us to force a\ndevotional meaning on the palpably Epicurean quatrains; and, on the\nother hand, unless we are prepared to throw over the authority of all\nthe manuscripts, including the most ancient ones, we must reckon with\nthe obviously Mystical and devotional quatrains. The essential\ncontradiction in the tone and temper of these two sections of Omar's\npoetry cannot be glossed over, but calls imperatively for explanation.\n\nHis poems were obviously not all written at one period of his life, but\nfrom time to time, just as circumstances and mood suggested, and under\nthe influence of the thoughts, passions, and desires which happened to\nbe uppermost at the moment. It may be that the irreligious and Epicurean\nquatrains were written in youth, and the _Munajat_ in his riper years.\nBut this hypothesis seems to be disproved by Sharastani's account of\nhim, which is quite silent as to any such conversion or change of\nsentiment on his part, and also by the fact that he describes himself\nfrom first to last as a \u00ab_Dipsychus_\u00bb in grain, a halter between two\nopinions, and an _\u00abAcrates_,\u00bb or back-slider, in his practice.\n\nIf his poems be considered not in the abstract, but in the light of\nhistory, taking into account his mental pedigree and his intellectual\nsurroundings, a more plausible explanation of his inconsistencies\nreadily presents itself. In his youth, as we know, he sat at the feet of\nthe Suni theologian Imam Muaffik, and he was then no doubt thoroughly\nindoctrinated with the great Semitic conception of the One God, or, to\nuse the expressive term of Muhammadan theology, \u00abthe Only Real Agent\u00bb\n(_Fa' il i Hakiki_). To minds dominated by the overwhelming sense of\nAlmighty Power, everywhere present and working, there seems no room for\nNature, or human will, or chance, or any other Ahriman whatsoever, to\ntake the responsibility of all the evils in the world, the storms and\nthe earthquakes, the Borgias and the Catilines. The \u00abOnly Real Agent\u00bb\nhas to answer for all. In the most ancient document of Semitic religious\nspeculation now extant, the Book of Job, we find expostulations of the\nboldest character addressed to the Deity for permitting a righteous man\nto be stricken with unmerited misfortunes, though the writer ultimately\nconcludes in a spirit of pious agnosticism and resignation to the\ninscrutable dispensations of Providence. In the Book of Ecclesiastes\nagain, the same problems are handled, but in a somewhat different\ntemper. The \u00abweary king Ecclesiast\u00bb remarks that there is one event to\nall, to him that sacrificeth and him that sacrificeth not--that\ninjustice and wrong seem eternally triumphant, that God has made things\ncrooked, and none can make them straight; and concludes now in favour of\na sober \u00ab_carpe diem_\u00bb philosophy, now in favour of a devout \u00abfear of\nthe Lord.\u00bb Of course the manner in which the serious Hebrew handles\nthese matters is very different from the levity and flippancy of the\nvolatile Persian, but it can hardly be denied that the Ecclesiast and\nOmar resemble one another in the double and contradictory nature of\ntheir practical conclusions.\n\nNo sooner was Islam established than the same problem of the existence\nof evil in the handiwork of the Almighty Author and Governor of all\nbegan to trouble the Moslem theologians, and by their elaboration of the\ndoctrine of Predestination they managed to aggravate its difficulties.\n\nOne of the chief \u00abroots\u00bb of their discussions was how to reconcile the\nDivine justice and benevolence with the Divine prescience,--the\npredestination of some vessels to honour, and others to dishonour,--the\npre-ordainment of all things by a kind of mechanical necessity (_Jabr_),\nleaving no possibility of the occurrence of any events except those\nwhich actually do occur. The consideration of one corollary of a similar\ndoctrine moved the pious and gentle Cowper to use language of indignant\ndissent; and there is high theological authority for the view that it is\ncalculated \u00abto thrust some into desperation,\u00bb but to stimulate the piety\nof others. Omar is constantly dwelling on this doctrine, and he seems to\nbe affected by it in the double way here mentioned.\n\nOther influences which acted on Omar must not be left out of account.\nBorn as he was in Khorassan, \u00abthe focus of Persian culture,\u00bb he was no\ndoubt familiar with speculations of the Moslem philosophers, Alkindi,\nAlfarabi, and Avicenna,[102] the last of whom he may possibly have seen.\nAnd though, think he was not himself a Sufi, in the sense of being\naffiliated to any Sufi order, he can hardly have been unaffected by the\nmysticism of which his predecessor in _Ruba'i_ writing, Abu Sa'id bin\nAbul Khair, his patron Nizam ul Mulk, and his distinguished countryman\nImam Ghazali were all strong adherents. His philosophical studies would\nnaturally stimulate his sceptical and irreligious dispositions, while\nhis Mystic leanings would operate mainly in the contrary direction.\n\nIf this explanation of the inconsistencies in his poetry be correct, it\nis obvious that the parallel often sought to be traced between him and\nLucretius has no existence. Whatever he was, he was not an Atheist. To\nhim, as to other Muhammadans of his time, to deny the existence of the\nDeity would seem to be tantamount to denying the existence of the world\nand of himself. And the conception of \u00ablaws of nature\u00bb was also one\nquite foreign to his habits of thought. As Deutsch says, \u00abTo a Shemite,\nNature is simply what has been begotten, and is ruled absolutely by One\nAbsolute Power.\u00bb\n\nHammer compares him to Voltaire, but in reality he is a Voltaire and\nsomething more. He has much of Voltaire's flippancy and irreverence. His\ntreatment of the doctrine of the Resurrection of the Body, for instance,\nwhich Muhammad took from Christianity, and travestied by the\nembellishments he added to it, is altogether in Voltaire's manner. And\nhis insistence on the all importance of kindness and charity recalls the\nbetter side of Voltaire's character, viz., his kindness to Calas, and\nthe other victims of ecclesiastical persecution. But Omar also\npossessed, what Voltaire did not, strong religious emotions, which at\ntimes overrode his rationalism, and found expression in those devotional\nand Mystical quatrains, which offer such a strong contrast to the rest\nof his poetry.\n\n E.H. WHINFIELD\n\n\n\n\nNOTE\n\n\nThe text has been framed from a comparison of the following\nauthorities:--\n\n I. The Bodleian manuscript, No. 140 of the Ouseley Collection,\n containing 158 quatrains.\n\n II. The Calcutta Asiatic Society's manuscript, No. 1548, containing\n 516 quatrains.\n\n III. The India Office manuscript, No. 2420, ff. 212 to 267, containing\n 512 quatrains.\n\n IV. The Calcutta edition of 1252 A.H., containing 438 quatrains,\n with an appendix of 54 more, which the editor says he found in a\n Bayaz, or common-place book, after the others had been printed.\n\n V. The Paris edition of M. Nicolas, containing 464 quatrains.\n\n VI. The Lucknow lithographed edition, containing 763 quatrains.\n\n VII. A fragment of an edition begun by the late Mr. Blochmann,\n containing only 62 quatrains.\n\n\n\n\nQUATRAINS OF OMAR KHAYYAM\n\n\n1.\n\n At dawn a cry through all the tavern shrilled,\n \u00abArise my brethren of the revellers' guild,\n That I may fill our measure, full of wine\n Or e'er the measure of our days be filled.\u00bb\n\n1. Bl. C. L. N. A. I. J. Bl. considers this quatrain Mystical.\n\n\n2.\n\n Who was it brought thee here at nightfall, who?\n Forth from the harem in this manner, who?\n To him who in thy absence burns as fire,\n And trembles like hot air, who was it, who?\n\n2. Bl. C. L. N. A. I. J. Bl. says the omission of the copulative _wa_ in\nline 4 of the original is characteristic of Khayyam. In line 4 I follow\nBlochmann's rendering. It may mean, \u00abwhen the wind blows.\u00bb\n\n\n3.\n\n 'Tis but a day we sojourn here below,\n And all the gain we get is grief and woe,\n And then, leaving life's riddles all unsolved,\n And burdened with regrets, we have to go.\n\n3. N.\n\n\n4.\n\n Khaja! grant one request, and only one,\n Wish me God-speed, and get your preaching done;\n I walk aright, 'tis you who see awry;\n Go! heal your purblind eyes, leave me alone.\n\n4. Bl. C. L. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n5.\n\n Arise! and come, and of thy courtesy\n Resolve my weary heart's perplexity,\n And fill my goblet, so that I may drink,\n Or e'er they make their goblets out of me.\n\n5. Bl. C. L. N A. I. J. The heart is supposed to be the seat of reason.\n\u00abOr ever\u00bb and \u00abor e'er\u00bb are both found in Elizabethan English. Abbot,\nShakespearian Grammar, p. 89.\n\n\n6.\n\n When I am dead, with wine my body lave,\n For obit chant a bacchanalian stave,\n And, if you need me at the day of doom,\n Beneath the tavern threshold seek my grave.\n\n6. Bl. C. L. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n7.\n\n Since no one can assure thee of the morrow,\n Rejoice thy heart to-day, and banish sorrow\n With moonbright wine, fair moon, for heaven's moon.\n Will look for us in vain on many a morrow.\n\n7. Bl. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. Line 2 is in metre 14.\n\n\n8.\n\n Let lovers all distraught and frenzied be,\n And flown with wine, and reprobates, like me;\n When sober, I find everything amiss,\n But in my cups cry, \u00abLet what will be, be.\u00bb\n\n8. Bl. L. N. Line 3 is in metre 13.\n\n\n9.\n\n In Allah's name, say, wherefore set the wise\n Their hearts upon this house of vanities?\n Whene'er they think to rest them from their toils,\n Death takes them by the hand, and says, \u00abArise.\u00bb\n\n9. Bl. C. L. N. A. I.\n\n\n10.\n\n Men say the Koran holds all heavenly lore,\n But on its pages seldom care to pore;\n The lucid lines engraven on the bowl,--\n _That_ is the text they dwell on evermore.\n\n10. Bl. L. N. A. B. I. J. Lines were engraven on the bowl to measure out\nthe draughts. Bl.\n\n\n11.\n\n Blame not the drunkards, you who wine eschew,\n Had I but grace, I would abstain like you,\n And mark me, vaunting zealot, you commit\n A hundredfold worse sins than drunkards do.\n\n11. Bl. C. L. N. A. I.\n\n\n12.\n\n What though 'tis fair to view, this form of man,\n I know not why the heavenly Artisan\n Hath set these tulip cheeks and cypress forms\n To deck the mournful halls of earth's divan.\n\n12. Bl. C. L. N. A. I.\n\n\n13.\n\n My fire gives forth no smoke-cloud here below,\n My stock-in-trade no profit here below,\n And you, who call me tavern-haunter, know\n There is indeed no tavern here below\n\n13. Bl. C. L. N. A. I. J. The anacoluthon in line 3, and the missing\nrhyme before the burden, in line 4, are characteristic of Khayyam. Bl.\n\n\n14.\n\n Thus spake an idol to his worshipper,\n \u00abWhy dost thou worship this dead stone, fair sir?\n 'Tis because He who gazeth through thine eyes,\n Doth some part of His charms on it confer.\u00bb\n\n14. L. Meaning, all is of God, even idols.\n\n\n15.\n\n Whate'er thou doest, never grieve thy brother,\n Nor kindle fumes of wrath his peace to smother;\n Dost thou desire to taste eternal bliss,\n Vex thine own heart, but never vex another!\n\n15. L. b. Line 1 is in metre 14.\n\n\n16.\n\n O Thou! to please whose love and wrath as well,\n Allah created heaven and likewise hell;\n Thou hast thy court in heaven, and I have naught,\n Why not admit me in thy courts to dwell?\n\n16. Bl. L. The person addressed is the prophet Muhammad. The Sufis were\nfond of dwelling on the opposition between the beautiful and the\nterrible attributes of Deity.\n\n\n17.\n\n So many cups of wine will I consume,\n Its bouquet shall exhale from out my tomb,\n And every one that passes by shall halt,\n And reel and stagger with that mighty fume.\n\n17. Bl. C. L. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n18.\n\n Young wooer, charm all hearts with lover's art,\n Glad winner, lead thy paragon apart!\n A hundred Ka'bas equal not one heart,\n Seek not the Ka'ba, rather seek a heart!\n\n18. Bl. C. L. N. A. I. J. Line 2, \u00abIn the presence seize the perfect\nheart.\u00bb\n\n\n19.\n\n What time, my cup in hand, its draughts I drain,\n And with rapt heart unconsciousness attain,\n Behold what wondrous miracles are wrought,\n Songs flow as water from my burning brain.\n\n19. L. N.\n\n\n20.\n\n To-day is but a breathing space, quaff wine!\n Thou wilt not see again this life of thine;\n So, as the world becomes the spoil of time,\n Offer thyself to be the spoil of wine!\n\n20. L. N.\n\n\n21.\n\n 'Tis we who to wine's yoke our necks incline,\n And risk our lives to gain the smiles of wine;\n The henchman grasps the flagon by its throat\n And squeezes out the lifeblood of the vine.\n\n21. L. N. Line 3 is in metre 19.\n\n\n22.\n\n Here in this tavern haunt I make my lair,\n Pawning for wine, heart, soul, and all I wear,\n Without a hope of bliss, or fear of bale,\n Rapt above water, earth, and fire, and air.\n\n22. Bl. C. L. N. A. B. I. J.\n\n\n23.\n\n Quoth fish to duck, \u00abTwill be a sad affair,\n If this brook leaves its channel dry and bare\u00bb;\n To whom the duck, \u00abWhen I am dead and roasted\n The brook may run with wine for aught I care.\u00bb\n\n23. L. Meaning, \u00ab_Apr\u00e8s nous le d\u00e9luge_\u00bb.\n\n\n24.\n\n From doubt to clear assurance is a breath,\n A breath from infidelity to faith;\n O precious breath! enjoy it while you may,\n 'Tis all that life can give, and then comes death.\n\n24. Bl. C. L. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n25.\n\n Ah! wheel of heaven to tyranny inclined,\n 'Twas e'er your wont to show yourself unkind;\n And, cruel earth, if they should cleave your breast,\n What store of buried jewels they would find!\n\n25. Bl. C. L. N. A. I. J. \u00abWheel of heaven,\u00bb _i.e._, destiny, fortune.\nSir Thomas Browne talks of the \u00abwheel of things.\u00bb\n\n\n26.\n\n My life lasts but a day or two, and fast\n Sweeps by, like torrent stream or desert blast,\n Howbeit, of two days I take no heed,--\n The day to come, and that already past.\n\n26. Bl. C. L. N. A. B. I. J.\n\n\n27.\n\n That pearl is from a mine unknown to thee,\n That ruby bears a stamp thou canst not see\n The tale of love some other tongue must tell,\n All our conjectures are mere phantasy.\n\n27. Meaning, real love of God differs from the popular idea of it. Bl.\n\n\n28.\n\n Now with its joyful prime my age is rife,\n I quaff enchanting wine, and list to fife;\n Chide not at wine for all its bitter taste,\n Its bitterness sorts well with human life!\n\n28. Bl. C. L. N. A. B. I. J.\n\n\n29.\n\n O soul! whose lot it is to bleed with pain,\n And daily change of fortune to sustain,\n Into this body wherefore didst thou come,\n Seeing thou must at last go forth again?\n\n29. Bl. C. L. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n30.\n\n To-day is thine to spend, but not to-morrow,\n Counting on morrows breedeth naught but sorrow;\n Oh! squander not this breath that heaven hath lent thee,\n Nor make too sure another breath to borrow!\n\n30. Bl. C. N. A. B. I.\n\n\n31.\n\n 'Tis labour lost thus to all doors to crawl,\n Take thy good fortune, and thy bad withal;\n Know for a surety each must play his game,\n As from heaven's dice-box fate's dice chance to fall.\n\n31. Bl. C. L. N. A. I. J. _Naksh_, the dots on dice.\n\n\n32.\n\n This jug did once, like me, love's sorrows taste,\n And bonds of beauty's tresses once embraced,\n This handle, which you see upon its side,\n Has many a time twined round a slender waist!\n\n32. Bl. C. L. N. A. B. I. J.\n\n\n33.\n\n Days changed to nights, ere you were born, or I,\n And on its business ever rolled the sky;\n See you tread gently on this dust--perchance\n 'Twas once the apple of some beauty's eye.\n\n33. C. L. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n34.\n\n Pagodas, just as mosques, are homes of prayer,\n 'Tis prayer that church-bells chime unto the air,\n Yea, Church and Ka'ba, Rosary and Cross\n Are all but divers tongues of world-wide prayer.\n\n34. Bl. C. L. N. A. I. J. Meaning, forms of faith are indifferent.\n\n\n35.\n\n 'Twas writ at first, whatever was to be,\n By pen, unheeding bliss or misery,\n Yea, writ upon the tablet once for all,\n To murmur or resist is vanity.\n\n35. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. Meaning, fate is heartless and resistless.\n\n\n36.\n\n There is a mystery I know full well,\n Which to all, good and bad, I cannot tell;\n My words are dark, but I cannot unfold\n The secrets of the \u00abstation\u00bb where I dwell.\n\n36. Bl. C. L. N. A. I. J. _Hale_, a state of ecstasy.\n\n\n37.\n\n No base or light-weight coins pass current here,\n Of such a broom has swept our dwelling clear\n Forth from the tavern comes a sage and cries,\n \u00abDrink! for ye all must sleep through ages drear\u00bb\n\n37. Bl. L. N. Meaning, Mullahs' fables will not go down with us.\n\n\n38.\n\n With outward seeming we can cheat mankind,\n But to God's will we can but be resigned,\n The deepest wiles my cunning e'er devised,\n To balk resistless fate no way could find.\n\n38. L. N. Meaning, weakness of human rule compared to the strength of\nDivine decrees.\n\n\n39.\n\n Is a friend faithless? spurn him as a foe;\n Upon trustworthy foes respect bestow;\n Hold healing poison for an antidote,\n And baneful sweets for deadly eisel know.\n\n39. L. N. These gnomical epigrams are not common in Khayyam.\n\n\n40.\n\n No heart is there but bleeds when torn from Thee,\n No sight so clear but craves Thy face to see;\n And though perchance Thou carest not for them,\n No soul is there but pines with care for Thee.\n\n40. C. L. N. A. I. J. _Jigar_, the liver, was considered to be the seat\nof love.\n\n\n41.\n\n Sobriety doth dry up all delight,\n And drunkenness doth drown my sense outright;\n There is a middle state, it is my life,\n Not altogether drunk, nor sober quite.\n\n41. C. N. I. _Masti_ o: scan _mastiyo_. The Epicurean golden mean. See\nEcclesiastes, vii, 16, 17.\n\n\n42.\n\n Behold these cups! Can He who deigned to make them,\n In wanton freak let ruin overtake them,\n So many shapely feet and hands and heads,--\n What love drives Him to make, what wrath to break them?\n\n42. C. N. A. B. I. J. _Pryalae_, a cup. So Job, \u00abThy hands have made me,\nyet thou dost destroy me.\u00bb\n\n\n43.\n\n Death's terrors spring from baseless phantasy,\n Death yields the tree of immortality;\n Since 'Isa breathed new life into my soul,\n Eternal death has washed its hands of me!\n\n43. L. N. Meaning, the Sufi doctrine of _Baka ba'd ul fana_. See\n_Gulshan i Raz_, p. 31.\n\n\n44.\n\n Like tulips in the Spring your cups lift up,\n And, with a tulip-cheeked companion, sup\n With joy your wine, or e'er this azure wheel\n With some unlooked-for blast upset your cup.\n\n44. C. L. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n45.\n\n Facts will not change to humour man's caprice,\n So vaunt not human powers, but hold your peace;\n Here must we stay, weighed down with grief for this,\n That we were born so late, so soon decease.\n\n45. C. L. N. A. I. J. Meaning, the futility of striving against\npredestination. _Ank_, for _anki_. Bl., Prosody 13.\n\n\n46.\n\n Khayyam! why weep you that your life is bad?\n What boots it thus to mourn? Rather be glad.\n He that sins not can make no claim to mercy,\n Mercy was made for sinners--be not sad.\n\n46. C. L. N. A. B. I. See note on No. 130\n\n\n47.\n\n All mortal ken is bounded by the veil,\n To see beyond man's sight is all too frail;\n Yea! earth's dark bosom is his only home;--\n Alas! 'twere long to tell the doleful tale.\n\n47. C. L. N. A. B. I. J.\n\n\n48.\n\n This faithless world, my home, I have surveyed,\n Yea, and with all my wit deep question made,\n But found no moon with face so bright as thine,\n No cypress in such stateliness arrayed.\n\n48. L. N.\n\n\n49.\n\n In synagogue and cloister, mosque and school,\n Hell's terrors and heaven's lures men's bosoms rule,\n But they who master Allah's mysteries,\n Sow not this empty chaff their hearts to fool.\n\n49. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. Meaning, souls re-absorbed in the Divine\nessence have no concern with the material heaven and hell.\n\n\n50.\n\n You see the world, but all you see is naught,\n And all you say, and all you hear is naught,\n Naught the four quarters of the mighty earth,\n The secrets treasured in your chamber naught.\n\n50. L. N. Meaning, all is illusion (_Maya_).\n\n\n51.\n\n I dreamt a sage said, \u00abWherefore life consume\n In sleep? Can sleep make pleasure's roses bloom?\n For gather not with death's twin-brother sleep,\n Thou wilt have sleep enough within thy tomb!\u00bb\n\n51. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. So Homer, _Kasignetos thanatoio_.\n\n\n52.\n\n If the heart knew life's secrets here below,\n At death 'twould know God's secrets too, I trow;\n But, if you know naught here, while still yourself,\n To-morrow, stripped of self, what can you know?\n\n52. C. L. N. A. I. In line 2 scan _Ilahi_. Bl., Prosody, p. 7.\n\n\n53.\n\n On that dread day, when wrath shall rend the sky,\n And darkness dim the bright stars' galaxy,\n I'll seize the Loved One by His skirt, and cry,\n \u00abWhy hast Thou doomed these guiltless ones to die?\u00bb\n\n53. C. L. N. A. I. J. See Koran, lxxxii. 1. Note the _alif i wasls_ in\nlines 1 and 2. In line 4 scan _kata lat_, transposing the last vowel.\nBl., Prosody, p. ii.\n\n\n54.\n\n To knaves Thy secret we must not confide,\n To comprehend it is to fools denied,\n See then to what hard case Thou doomest men,\n Our hopes from one and all perforce we hide.\n\n54. C. L. N. A. B. I. There is a variation of this, beginning _Asrar i\njahan_.\n\n\n55.\n\n Cupbearer! what though fate's blows here betide us,\n And a safe resting-place be here denied us,\n So long as the bright wine-cup stands between us,\n We have the very Truth at hand to guide us.\n\n55. C. L. N. A. I. In line 3 scan _mayast_. Bl., Prosody, p. 13, and\nnote _tashdid_ on _hakk_ dropped. Ibid, p. iv.\n\n\n56.\n\n Long time in wine and rose I took delight,\n But then my business never went aright;\n Since wine could not accomplish my desire,\n I have abandoned and forsworn it quite.\n\n56. C. L. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n57.\n\n Bring wine! my heart with dancing spirits teems,\n Wake! fortune's waking is as fleeting dreams;\n Quicksilver-like our days are swift of foot,\n And youthful fire subsides as torrent streams.\n\n57. C. L. N. A. I. J. In line 3 scan _bedariyi_.\n\n\n58.\n\n Love's devotees, not Moslems here you see,\n Not Solomons, but ants of low degree;\n Here are but faces wan and tattered rags,\n No store of Cairene cloth or silk have we.\n\n58. L. N. For the story of Solomon and the ants, see Koran, xxvii., 18.\n_Kasab_, linen made in Egypt.\n\n\n59.\n\n My law it is in pleasure's paths to stray,\n My creed to shun the theologic fray;\n I wedded Luck, and offered her a dower,\n She said, \u00abI want none, so thy heart be gay.\u00bb\n\n59. C. L. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n60.\n\n From mosque an outcast, and to church a foe,\n Allah! of what clay didst thou form me so?\n Like sceptic monk, or ugly courtesan,\n No hopes have I above, no joys below.\n\n60. C. L. N. A. I. J. _Ummed_ has the _tashdid ob metrum_. Bl., Prosody\n9. Line 2 is in metre 17. _Gil i mara_ for _gil i man ra_, Vullers, pp.\n173 and 193.\n\n\n61.\n\n Men's lusts, like house-dogs, still the house distress\n With clamour, barking for mere wantonness;\n Foxes are they, and sleep the sleep of hares;\n Crafty as wolves, as tigers pitiless.\n\n61. C. L. N. A. I. J. \u00abSleep of hares,\u00bb deceit.\n\n\n62.\n\n Yon turf, fringing the margent of the stream,\n As down upon a cherub's lip might seem,\n Or growth from dust of buried tulip cheeks;\n Tread not that turf with scorn, or light esteem!\n\n62. C. L. N. A. I. J. _Juyiy_: the _ya_ of _juy_ is hamzated because\nfollowed by another _ya_. Vullers, p. 24.\n\n\n63.\n\n Hearts with the light of love illumined well,\n Whether in mosque or synagogue they dwell,\n Have _their_ names written in the book of love,\n Unvexed by hopes of heaven or fears of hell.\n\n63. C. L. N. A. I. J. Compare Hafiz, Ode 79: \u00abWherever love is, there is\nthe light of the Beloved's face.\u00bb\n\n\n64.\n\n One draught of wine outweighs the realm of Tus,\n Throne of Kobad and crown of Kai Kawus;\n Sweeter are sighs that lovers heave at morn,\n Than all the groanings zealot breasts produce.\n\n64. C. L. N. A. I. J. _Kawus_ is the old spelling.\n\n\n65.\n\n Though Moslems for my sins condemn and chide me,\n Like heathens to my idol I confide me;\n Yea, when I perish of a drunken bout,\n I'll call on wine, whatever doom betide me.\n\n65. L. N.\n\n\n66.\n\n In drinking thus it is not my design\n To riot, or transgress the law divine,\n No! to attain unconsciousness of self\n Is the sole cause I drink me drunk with wine.\n\n66. C. L. N. A. I. J. Perhaps a hit at the orthodox Sufis.\n\n\n67.\n\n Drunkards are doomed to hell, so men declare,\n Believe it not, 'tis but a foolish scare;\n Heaven will be empty as this hand of mine,\n If none who love good drink find entrance there.\n\n67. C. L. N. A. I. J. Line 4 is in metre 17.\n\n\n68.\n\n 'Tis wrong, according to the strict Koran,\n To drink in Rajah, likewise in Sha'ban,\n God and the Prophet claim those months as theirs;\n Was Ramazan then made for thirsty man?\n\n68. C. L. N. A. I. J. The point, of course, is that Ramazan is the\nMahammadan Lent.\n\n\n69.\n\n Now Ramazan is come, no wine must flow,\n Our simple pastimes we must now forego,\n The wine we have in store we must not drink,\n Nor on our mistresses one kiss bestow.\n\n69. L. N. Does _Sada_ mean the winter feast?\n\n\n70.\n\n What is the world? A _caravanserai_,\n A pied pavilion of night and day;\n A feast whereat a thousand Jamshids sat,\n A couch whereon a thousand Bahrams lay.\n\n70. Bl. C. L. N. A. I. J. _Wamanda_, \u00ableavings.\u00bb\n\n\n71.\n\n Now that your roses bloom with flowers of bliss,\n To grasp your goblets be not so remiss,\n Drink while you may! Time is a treacherous foe,\n You may not see another day like this.\n\n71. Bl. C. L. N. A. I. J. _Bar bar_ \u00abblooming, on the branch,\u00bb _i.e._,\nyou are still young. Bl.\n\n\n72.\n\n Here in this palace, where Bahram held sway,\n The wild roes drop their young, and tigers stray;\n And that great hunter king--ah! well-a-day!\n Now to the hunter death is fallen a prey.\n\n72. Bl. C. L. N. A. I. J. _Daro_: see Bl., Pros. 11.\n\n\n73.\n\n Down fall the tears from skies enwrapt in gloom,\n Without this drink, the flowers could never bloom!\n As now these flowerets yield delight to me,\n So shall my dust yield flowers,--God knows for whom.\n\n73. Bl. C. L. N. A. I. J. In line 4 _ta_ is the \u00ab_ta i tajahul_,\u00bb\nmeaning, \u00abI do not know whether,\u00bb \u00abperhaps.\u00bb Bl.\n\n\n74.\n\n To-day is Friday, as the Moslem says,\n Drink then from bowls served up in quick relays;\n Suppose on common days you drink one bowl,\n To-day drink two, for 'tis the prince of days.\n\n74. Bl. C. L. N. A. I. J. Friday is the day \u00abof assembly,\u00bb or Sabbath.\n\n\n75.\n\n The _very_ wine a myriad forms sustains,\n And to take shapes of plants and creatures deigns\n But deem not that its essence ever dies,\n Its forms may perish, but its self remains.\n\n75. Bl. C. L. N. A. I. J. On this Bl. notes \u00abThe Arabic form _hayawan_\nis required by the metre.\u00bb And _Suwar_ is the Arabic plural, used as a\nsingular. Bl., Prosody 5. Wine means the divine \u00ab_Noumenon_.\u00bb _Gulshan i\nRaz_, 825.\n\n\n76.\n\n 'Tis naught but smoke this people's fire doth bear,\n For my well-being not a soul doth care;\n With hands fate makes me lift up in despair,\n I grasp men's skirts, but find no succour there.\n\n76. Bl. C. L. N. A. I. J. Scan _tayifa_.\n\n\n77.\n\n This bosom friend, on whom you so rely,\n Seems to clear wisdom's eyes an enemy;\n Choose not your friends from this rude multitude,\n Their converse is a plague 'tis best to fly.\n\n77. Bl. C. L. N. A. I. J. The MSS. transpose the lines.\n\n\n78.\n\n O foolish one! this moulded earth is naught,\n This particoloured vault of heaven is naught;\n Our sojourn in this seat of life and death\n Is but one breath, and what is that but naught?\n\n78. Bl. L. N. _Shakl i mujassam_, \u00abthe earth.\u00bb Bl.\n\n\n79.\n\n Some wine, a Houri (Houris if there be),\n A green bank by a stream, with minstrelsy;--\n Toil not to find a better Paradise\n If other Paradise indeed there be!\n\n79. Bl. C. L. N. A. I. J. _Dozakh i farsuda_, \u00aban old hell,\u00bb _i.e._,\nvain things which create a hell for you. Bl.\n\n\n80.\n\n To the wine-house I saw the sage repair,\n Bearing a wine-cup, and a mat for prayer;\n I said, \u00abO Shaikh, what does this conduct mean?\u00bb\n Said he, \u00abGo drink! the world is naught but air.\u00bb\n\n80. N.\n\n\n81.\n\n The Bulbul to the garden winged his way,\n Viewed lily cups, and roses smiling gay,\n Cried in ecstatic notes, \u00abO live your life,\n You never will re-live this fleeting day.\u00bb\n\n81. N. The MSS. have a variation of this beginning, _Bulbul chu. Jam .\nra_. See Bl., Prosody, p. 12.\n\n\n82.\n\n Thy body is a tent, where harbourage\n The Sultan spirit takes for one brief age;\n When he departs, comes the tent-pitcher death,\n Strikes it, and onward moves, another stage.\n\n82. C. L. N. A. I. J. _Manzil_, in line 2, \u00ablodging\u00bb; in line 3, \u00abstage\u00bb\n_Khimaye_, a \u00abtent.\u00bb\n\n\n83.\n\n Khayyam, who long time stitched the tents of learning,\n Has fallen into a furnace, and lies burning,\n Death's shears have cut his thread of life asunder,\n Fate's brokers sell him off with scorn and spurning.\n\n83. C. L. N. A. B. I. J.\n\n\n84.\n\n In the sweet spring a grassy bank I sought,\n And thither wine, and a fair Houri brought;\n And, though the people called me graceless dog,\n Gave not to Paradise another thought!\n\n84. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. _Batar_, a contraction. See Bl., Prosody, p.\n10.\n\n\n85.\n\n Sweet is rose-ruddy wine in goblets gay,\n And sweet are lute and harp and roundelay;\n But for the zealot who ignores the cup,\n 'Tis sweet when he is twenty leagues away!\n\n85. N. The MSS. have a variation of this. Note _Khush_.\n\n\n86.\n\n Life, void of wine, and minstrels with their lutes,\n And the soft murmurs of Irakian flutes,\n Were nothing worth: I scan the world and see:\n Save pleasure, life yields only bitter fruits.\n\n86. L. N. See an answer to this in No. 97.\n\n\n87.\n\n Make haste! soon must you quit this life below,\n And pass the veil, and Allah's secrets know,\n Make haste to take your pleasure while you may,\n You wot not whence you come, nor whither go.\n\n87. C. L. N. A. I. In line 3 scan _nidaniyaz_.\n\n\n88.\n\n Depart we must! what boots it then to be,\n To walk in vain desires continually?\n Nay, but if heaven vouchsafe no place of rest,\n What power to cease our wanderings have we?\n\n88. N. In line 3 scan _jayiga_. Bl., Prosody, p. 15.\n\n\n89.\n\n To chant wine's praises is my daily task,\n I live encompassed by cup, bowl and flask;\n Zealot! if reason be thy guide, then know\n That guide of me doth ofttimes guidance ask.\n\n89. C. L. N. A. I. J. In line 1 scan _maddahiyi_; and compare Horace,\n \u00ab_Edocet artes;\n Fecundi calices quem non fecere disertum._\u00bb\n\n\n90.\n\n O men of morals! why do ye defame,\n And thus misjudge me? I am not to blame.\n Save weakness for the grape, and female charms,\n What sins of mine can any of ye name?\n\n90. C. L. N. A. I. J. This change of persons is called _Iltifat_.\nGladwin, Persian Rhetoric, p. 56.\n\n\n91.\n\n Who treads in passion's footsteps here below,\n A helpless pauper will depart, I trow;\n Remember who you are, and whence you come.\n Consider what you do, and whither go.\n\n91. C. L. N. A. I. _Khabarat_: see Bl., Prosody, p. v.\n\n\n92.\n\n Skies like a zone our weary lives enclose,\n And from our tear-stained eyes a Jihun flows;\n Hell is a fire enkindled of our griefs;\n Heaven but a moment's peace, stolen from our woes.\n\n92. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. This balanced arrangement of similes is called\n_Tirsi'a_. Gladwin, p. 5.\n\n\n93.\n\n I drown in sin--show me Thy clemency!\n My soul is dark--make me Thy light to see!\n A heaven that must be earned by painful works,\n I call a wage, not a gift fair and free.\n\n93. C. L. N. A. I. J. Arabic words like _raza_, drop the _hamza_ in\nPersian, except with the _izafat_: (Bl., Prosody 14). For this _hamza,\nya_ is often used, as here.\n\n\n94.\n\n Did He who made me fashion me for hell,\n Or destine me for heaven? I cannot tell.\n Yet will I not renounce cup, lute and love,\n Nor earthly cash for heavenly credit sell.\n\n94. C. L. N. A. B. I. In line 4 the _izafat_ is dropped after silent\n_he_. Bl., Prosody, p. 15.\n\n\n95.\n\n From right and left the censors came and stood,\n Saying, \u00abRenounce this wine, this foe of good\u00bb;\n But if wine be the foe of holy faith,\n By Allah, right it is to drink its blood!\n\n95. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. See Koran, ii. 187.\n\n\n96.\n\n The good and evil with man's nature blent,\n The weal and woe that heaven's decrees have sent,--\n Impute them not to motions of the skies,--\n Skies than thyself ten times more impotent.\n\n96. C. L. N. A. I. J. Fate is merely the decree of Allah. For the\ndistinction between _kaza_ and _kadar_, see Pocock, \u00ab_Specimen Historiae\nArabum_,\u00bb p. 207.\n\n\n97.\n\n Against death's arrows what are buckles worth?\n What all the pomps and riches of the earth?\n When I survey the world, I see no good\n But goodness, all beside is nothing worth.\n\n97. N. Possibly written on the margin by some pious reader as an answer\nto No. 86.\n\n\n98.\n\n Weak souls, who from the world cannot refrain,\n Hold life-long fellowship with rule and pain;\n Hearts free from worldly cares have store of bliss,\n All others seeds of bitter woe contain.\n\n98. L. N. _Tajrid_, see _Gulshan i Raz_, p. 8, n.\n\n\n99.\n\n He, in whose bosom wisdom's seed is sown,\n To waste a single day was never known;\n Either he strives to work great Allah's will,\n Or else exalts the cup, and works his own.\n\n99. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. _Tarabe_, query, _takhme?_ giving a line in\nmetre 23.\n\n\n100.\n\n When Allah mixed my clay, He knew full well\n My future acts, and could each one foretell;\n Without His will no act of mine was wrought;\n Is it then just to punish me in hell?\n\n100. C. L. N. A. I. Of the Moslem theory of predestination, Khayyam\nmight truly say, \u00abTen thousand mortals, drowned in endless woe, for\ndoing what they were compelled to _do_.\u00bb\n\n\n101.\n\n Ye, who cease not to drink on common days,\n Do not on Friday quit your drinking ways;\n Adopt my creed, and count all days the same,\n Be worshippers of God, and not of days.\n\n101. L. N. In line 3 scan _yakist_.\n\n\n102.\n\n If grace be grace, and Allah gracious be,\n Adam from Paradise why banished He?\n Grace to poor sinners shown is grace indeed;\n In grace hard earned by works no grace I see.\n\n102. N. The _tashdid_ of _rabb_ is dropped. Bl., Prosody, p. iv.\n\n\n103.\n\n Dame Fortune's smiles are full of guile, beware!\n Her scimitar is sharp to smite, take care!\n If e'er she drop a sweetmeat in thy mouth,\n 'Tis poisonous,--to swallow it forbear!\n\n103. C. L. A. B. I. _Hush_ contracted from _hosh_.\n\n\n104.\n\n Where'er you see a rose or tulip bed,\n Know that a mighty monarch's blood was shed\n And where the violet rears her purple tuft,\n Be sure a black-moled girl hath laid her head.\n\n104. B. L. The MSS. have a variation of this, beginning _Har khisht ki_.\n\n\n105.\n\n Wine is a melting ruby, cup its mine;\n Cup is the body, and the soul is wine;\n These crystal goblets smile with ruddy wine\n Like tears, that blood of wounded hearts enshrine.\n\n105. L. B.\n\n\n106.\n\n Drink wine! 'tis life etern, and travail's meed,\n Fruitage of youth, and balm of age's need:\n 'Tis the glad time of roses, wine and friends;\n Rejoice thy spirit--that is life indeed.\n\n106. L. B. There being no _izafat_ after _yaran_, _sar i mast_ must\nagree with _hangam_.\n\n\n107.\n\n Drink wine! long must you sleep within the tomb,\n Without a friend, or wife to cheer your gloom;\n Hear what I say, and tell it not again,\n \u00abNever again can withered tulips bloom.\u00bb\n\n107. C. A. B. I. J. This recalls the chorus in the \u00abOedipus Coloneus.\u00bb\n\n\n108.\n\n They preach how sweet those Houri brides will be,\n But I say wine is sweeter--taste and see!\n Hold fast this cash, and let that credit go,\n And shun the din of empty drums like me.\n\n108. C. L. A. B. I. J. _Sin_, \u00abnuptials.\u00bb Like me, _i.e._, as I do.\n\n\n109.\n\n Once and again my soul did me implore,\n To teach her, if I might, the heavenly lore;\n I bade her learn the _Alif_ well by heart.\n Who knows that letter well need learn no more.\n\n109. B. _Alif Kafat_, the One (God) is enough. Probably a quotation.\nHafiz (Ode 416) uses the same expression: \u00abHe who knows the One knows\nall.\u00bb\n\n\n110.\n\n I came not hither of my own free will,\n And go against my wish, a puppet still;\n Cupbearer! gird thy loins, and fetch some wine;\n To purge the world's despite, my goblet fill.\n\n110. C. L. A. B. I. J. _'Azme, ya i tankir_, or _tans ifi?_\n\n\n111.\n\n How long must I make bricks upon the sea?\n Beshrew this vain task of idolatry;\n Call not Khayyam a denizen of hell;\n One while in heaven, and one in hell is he.\n\n111. C. L. A. B. I. J. _Andar-ba_, Bl., Prosody 12.\n\n\n112.\n\n Sweet is the breath of Spring to rose's face,\n And thy sweet face adds charm to this fair place;\n To-day is sweet, but yesterday is sad,\n And sad all mention of its parted grace.\n\n112. C. L. A. B. I. J. _Khush_ is pronounced _khash_ or _khush._ Bl.,\nProsody, p. 12. _Guyi_ is generally written with _hamza_ and _ya_, but\nin some MSS. _fatha_ is substituted for the _hamza_ [?].\n\n\n113.\n\n To-night pour wine, and sing a dulcet air,\n And I upon thy lips will hang, O fair;\n Yea, pour some wine as rosy as thy cheeks,\n My mind is troubled like thy ruffled hair.\n\n113. B. _Roziyyi_.\n\n\n114.\n\n Pen, tablet, heaven and hell I looked to see\n Above the skies, from all eternity;\n At last the master sage instructed me,\n \u00abPen, tablet, heaven and hell are all in thee.\u00bb\n\n114. Allah writes his decrees with the \u00abpen\u00bb on the \u00abtablet.\u00bb Koran,\nlxviii. l. See _Gulshan i Raz_, 1, n.\n\n\n115.\n\n The fruit of certitude _he_ cannot pluck,\n The path that leads thereto who never struck,\n Nor ever shook the bough with strenuous hand;\n To-day is lost; hope for to-morrow's luck.\n\n115. L. B. _Lit._ \u00abConsider to-morrow your first day.\u00bb\n\n\n116.\n\n Now spring-tide showers its foison on the land,\n And lively hearts wend forth, a joyous band,\n For 'Isa's breath wakes the dead earth to life,\n And trees gleam white with flowers, like Musa's hand.\n\n116. B. Alluding to the life-giving breath of Jesus, and the white hand\nof Moses. (Exodus, IV. 6.) _Bakhushi dastrase (ya i tankir_), \u00ab_an_ aid\nto joy,\u00bb _i.e._, Spring.\n\n\n117.\n\n Alas for that cold heart, which never glows\n With love, nor e'er that charming madness knows;\n The days misspent with no redeeming love;--\n No days are wasted half as much as those!\n\n117. Bl. L. B.\n\n\n118.\n\n The zephyrs waft thy fragrance, and it takes\n My heart, and me, his master, he forsakes;\n Careless of me he pants and leaps to thee,\n And thee his pattern and ensample makes!\n\n118. Bl. C. L. A. I. J. Also ascribed to Abu Sa'id bin Abul Khair. C.\nwrites _buyi_ with two _yas_, and _hamza_ on the first. The second _ya_\nseems to be _ya i batni_ or _tausifi_, though that is usual only before\nadjectives. Bl., Prosody, p. 11.\n\n\n119.\n\n Drink wine! and then as Mahmud thou wilt reign,\n And hear a music passing David's strain:\n Think not of past or future, seize to-day,\n Then all thy life will not be lived in vain.\n\n119. Bl. C. L. A. I. J.\n\n\n120.\n\n Ten Powers, and nine spheres, eight heavens made He,\n And planets seven, of six sides, as we see,\n Five senses, and four elements, three souls,\n Two worlds, but only one, O man, like thee.\n\n120. L. A summary of the Muhammadan doctrine of \u00abEmanations.\u00bb See\n_Gulshan i Raz_, p. 21. Three souls, _i.e._, vegetive, animal and human,\nas in Aristotle's _De Anima_. _Akhtaram_ (?), also in Cambridge MS.\n\n\n121.\n\n Jewry hath seen a thousand prophets die,\n Sinai a thousand Musas mount the sky;\n How many C\u00e6sars Rome's proud forum crossed!\n 'Neath Kasra's dome how many monarchs lie!\n\n121. L. J. Time is long and life short.\n\n\n122.\n\n Gold breeds not wit, but to wit lacking bread\n Earth's flowery carpet seems a dungeon bed;\n 'Tis his full purse that makes the rose to smile,\n While empty-handed violets hang the head.\n\n122. L. Alluding to the golden stamens of the rose. I supply _tihi_ from\nthe Cambridge MS.\n\n\n123.\n\n Heaven's wheel has made full many a heart to moan,\n And many a budding rose to earth has thrown;\n Plume thee not on thy youth and lusty strength,\n Full many a bud is blasted ere 'tis blown.\n\n123. L.\n\n\n124.\n\n What lord is fit to rule but \u00abTruth\u00bb? Not one.\n What beings disobey His rule? Not one.\n All things that are, are such as He decrees;\n And naught is there beside beneath the sun.\n\n124. C. L. A. I. \u00abThe Truth\u00bb is a Sufi name for the Deity.\n\n\n125.\n\n That azure coloured vault and golden tray\n Have turned, and will turn yet for many a day;\n And just so we, impelled by turns of fate,--\n Come here but for a while, then pass away.\n\n125. Bl. L. _Guzasht_, \u00abIt is all over with us.\u00bb Bl. \u00abGolden tray,\u00bb the\nSun.\n\n\n126.\n\n The Master did himself these vessels frame,\n Why should he cast them out to scorn and shame?\n If he has made them well, why should he break them?\n Yea, though he marred them, _they_ are not to blame.\n\n126. C. L. A. I. J. In line 4 _suwar_ is an Arabic plural used as a\nsingular. Bl., Prosody, p. 5.\n\n\n127.\n\n Kindness to friends and foes 'tis well to show,\n No kindly heart can prove unkind, I trow:\n Harshness will alienate a bosom friend,\n And kindness reconcile a deadly foe.\n\n127. L. In line 2 scan _neykiyash_.\n\n\n128.\n\n To lovers true, what matters dark or fair?\n Or if the loved one silk or sackcloth wear,\n Or lie on down or dust, or rise to heaven?\n Yea, though she sink to hell, he'll seek her there.\n\n128. L. Probably Mystical.\n\n\n129.\n\n Full many a hill and vale I journeyed o'er;\n Yea, journeyed through the world's wide quarters four,\n But never heard of pilgrim who returned;\n When once they go, they go to come no more.\n\n129. C. L. N. (in part) A. I. J.\n\n\n130.\n\n Wine-houses flourish through this thirst of mine,\n Loads of remorse weigh down this back of mine;\n Yet, if I sinned not, what would mercy do?\n Mercy depends upon these sins of mine.\n\n130. C. Bl. L. A. I. J. Bl. quotes similar sentiments from Nizami and\nHafiz. Mercy is God's highest attribute, and sin is required to call it\nforth.\n\n\n131.\n\n Thy being is the being of Another,\n Thy passion is the passion of Another.\n Cover thy head, and think, and thou wilt see,\n Thy hand is but the cover of Another.\n\n131. Bl. Meaning God is the _Fa'il i hakiki_, the only real Agent.\n\n\n132.\n\n From learning to the cup your bridle turn;\n All lore of world to come, save Kausar, spurn;\n Your turban pawn for wine, or keep a shred\n To bind your brow, and all the remnant burn.\n\n132. N. _Kausar_, the river of wine in Paradise.\n\n\n133.\n\n See! from the world what profit have I gained?\n What fruitage of my life in hand retained?\n What use is Jamshid's goblet, once 'tis crushed?\n What pleasure's torch, when once its light has waned?\n\n133. L. N. _Tarf bar bastan_,\u00abto reap advantage.\u00bb\n\n\n134.\n\n When life is spent, what's Balkh or Nishapore?\n What sweet or bitter, when the cup runs o'er?\n Come drink! full many a moon will wax and wane\n In times to come, when we are here no more.\n\n134. C. L. N. A. B. I. J.\n\n\n135.\n\n O fair! whose cheeks checkmate red eglantine,\n And draw the game with those fair maids of Chin,\n You played one glance against the king of Babil\n And took his pawns, and knights, and rooks, and queen.\n\n135. L. B.\n\n\n136.\n\n Life's caravan is hastening on its way;\n Brood not on troubles of the coming day,\n But fill the wine-cup, ere sweet night be gone,\n And snatch a pleasant moment, while you may.\n\n136. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. The \u00ab_rinds_\u00bb loved a dark night. Bl.\n\n\n137.\n\n He, who the world's foundations erst did lay,\n Doth bruise full many a bosom day by day,\n And many a ruby lip and musky tress\n Doth coffin in the earth, and shroud with clay.\n\n137. C. L. N. A. I. J. So Job, \u00abIs it good unto thee that thou shouldest\noppress, that thou shouldest despise the work of thine hands?\u00bb\n\n\n138.\n\n Be not beguiled by world's insidious wiles;\n O foolish ones, ye know her tricks and guiles;\n Your precious life-time cast not to the winds;\n Haste to seek wine, and court a sweetheart's smile.\n\n138. N.\n\n\n139.\n\n Comrades! I pray you, physic me with wine,\n Make this wan amber face like rubies shine,\n And, if I die, use wine to wash my corpse,\n And frame my coffin out of planks of vine!\n\n139. C. L. N. A. B. I. _Kahraba_, \u00abamber,\u00bb literally \u00abattractor of\nstraw.\u00bb\n\n\n140.\n\n When Allah yoked the courses of the sun,\n And launched the Pleiades their race to run,\n My lot was fixed in fate's high chancery;\n Then why blame me for wrong that fate has done?\n\n140. C. L. N. A. I. J. Also ascribed to Afzul Kashi.\n\n\n141.\n\n Ah! seasoned wine oft falls to rawest fools,\n And clumsiest workmen own the finest tools;\n And Turki maids, fit to delight men's hearts,\n Lavish their smiles on beardless boys in school!\n\n141. N. So Hafiz, \u00abIf that Turki maid of Shiraz,\u00bb etc.\n\n\n142.\n\n Whilom, ere youth's conceit had waned, methought\n Answers to all life's problems I had wrought;\n But now, grown old and wise, too late I see\n My life is spent, and all my lore is naught.\n\n142. N. C. A. and I. give another version of this.\n\n\n143.\n\n They who of prayer-mats make such great display\n Are fools to bear hypocrisy's hard sway;\n Strange! under cover of this saintly show\n They live like heathen, and their faith betray.\n\n143. C. L. N A. I. In line 2, note the arrangement of the prepositions.\nThere is a proverb, \u00abThe Devil lives in Mecca and Medinah.\u00bb\n\n\n144.\n\n To him who would his sins extenuate,\n Let pious men this verse reiterate,\n \u00abTo call God's prescience the cause of sin\n In wisdom's purview is but folly's prate.\u00bb\n\n144. L. N. _Sahl_, of \u00abno account.\u00bb\n\n\n145.\n\n He brought me hither, and I felt surprise,\n From life I gather but a dark surmise,\n I go against my will;--thus, why I come,\n Why live, why go, are all dark mysteries.\n\n145. C. L. N. A.\n\n\n146.\n\n When I recall my grievous sins to mind,\n Fire burns my breast, and tears my vision blind;\n Yet, when a slave repents, is it not meet\n His lord should pardon, and again be kind?\n\n146. L. N. In line 2, _az sar guzarad_ means \u00abdrops from the eyes,\u00bb and\nin line 4, \u00abremits the penalty.\u00bb This change of meaning is called\n_Tajnis_.\n\n\n147.\n\n They at whose lore the whole world stands amazed,\n Whose high thoughts, like Borak, to heaven are raised,\n Strive to know Thee in vain, and like heaven's wheel\n Their heads are turning, and their brains are dazed.\n\n147. C. L. N. A. Borak, or Burak, the steed on which Muhammad made his\nfamous nocturnal ascent to heaven.\n\n\n148.\n\n Allah hath promised wine in Paradise,\n Why then should wine on earth be deemed a vice?\n An Arab in his cups cut Hamzah's girths,--\n For that sole cause was drink declared a vice.\n\n148. L. N. Nicolas says this refers to an event which occurred to\nHamzah, a relation of Muhammad.\n\n\n149.\n\n Now of old joys naught but the name is left,\n Of all old friends but wine we are bereft,\n And that wine _new_, but still cleave to the cup,\n For save the cup, what single joy is left?\n\n149. L. N. B.\n\n\n150.\n\n The world will last long after Khayyam's fame\n Has passed away, yea, and his very name;\n Aforetime we were not, and none did heed.\n When we are dead and gone, 'twill be the same.\n\n150. N.\n\n\n151.\n\n The sages who have compassed sea and land,\n Their secret to search out, and understand,--\n My mind misgives me if they ever solve\n The scheme on which this universe is planned.\n\n151. C. L. N. A. I.\n\n\n152.\n\n Ah! wealth takes wings, and leaves our hands all bare,\n And death's rough hands delight our hearts to tear;\n And from the nether world none e'er escapes,\n To bring us news of the poor pilgrims there.\n\n152. C. L. N. A. I.\n\n\n153.\n\n 'Tis passing strange, those titled noblemen\n Find their own lives a burden sore, but when\n They meet with poorer men, not slaves to sense,\n They scarcely deign to reckon them as men.\n\n153. C. L. N. A. I.\n\n\n154.\n\n The wheel on high, still busied with despite,\n Will ne'er unloose a wretch from his sad plight;\n But when it lights upon a smitten heart,\n Straightway essays another blow to smite.\n\n154. C. L. N. A. I. Vullers, Section 207.\n\n\n155.\n\n Now is the volume of my youth outworn,\n And all my spring-tide blossoms rent and torn.\n Ah, bird of youth! I marked not when you came,\n Nor when you fled, and left me thus forlorn.\n\n155. C. L. N. A. I.\n\n\n156.\n\n These fools, by dint of ignorance most crass,\n Think they in wisdom all mankind surpass;\n And glibly do they damn as infidel,\n Whoever is not, like themselves, an ass.\n\n156. N. So Job, \u00abYe are the people, and wisdom shall die with you.\u00bb\nProbably addressed to the 'Ulama.\n\n\n157.\n\n Still be the wine-house thronged with its glad choir,\n And Pharisaic skirts burnt up with fire,\n Still be those tattered frocks and azure robes\n Trod under feet of revellers in the mire.\n\n157. C. L. N. A. J. Hafiz (Ode V.) speaks of the blue robes of certain\nDervishes as a mark of hypocrisy.\n\n\n158.\n\n Why toil ye to ensure illusions vain,\n And good or evil of the world attain?\n Ye rise like Zamzam, or the fount of life,\n And, like them, in earth's bosom sink again.\n\n158. C. L. N. A. I.\n\n\n159.\n\n Till the Friend pours his wine to glad my heart,\n No kisses to my face will heaven impart\n They say, \u00abRepent in time\u00bb; but how repent,\n Ere Allah's grace hath softened my hard heart?\n\n159. C. L. N. A. I. Meaning, man is powerless to mend his ways without\nDivine grace.\n\n\n160.\n\n When I am dead, take me and grind me small,\n So that I be a caution unto all,\n And knead me into clay with wine, and then\n Use me to stop the wine-jar's mouth withal.\n\n160. C. L. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n161.\n\n What though the sky with its blue canopy\n Doth close us in so that we cannot see,\n In the etern Cupbearer's wine methinks,\n There float a myriad bubbles like to me.\n\n161. N.\n\n\n162.\n\n Take heart! Long in the weary tomb you'll lie,\n While stars keep countless watches in the sky,\n And see your ashes moulded into bricks,\n To build another's house and turrets high.\n\n162. L. N. C. A. and I. split this into two. In line 1 note _izafat_\ndropped after silent _he_.\n\n\n163.\n\n Glad hearts, who seek not notoriety,\n Nor flaunt in gold and silken bravery,\n Haunt not this ruined earth like gloomy owls,\n But wing their way, Simurgh-like, to the sky.\n\n163. C. L. N. A. I.\n\n\n164.\n\n Wine's power is known to wine-bibbers alone,\n To narrow heads and hearts 'tis never shown;\n I blame not them who never felt its force,\n For, till they feel it, how can it be known.\n\n164. C. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n165.\n\n Needs must the tavern-hunter bathe in wine,\n For none can make a tarnished name to shine;\n Go! bring me wine, for none can now restore\n Its pristine sheen to this soiled veil of mine.\n\n165. C. L. N. A. B. I. In line 3 scan _masturiyi_ dissolving the letter\nof prolongation _ya_.\n\n\n166.\n\n I wasted life in hope, yet gathered not\n In all my life of happiness one jot;\n Now my fear is that life may not endure.\n Till I have taken vengeance on my lot!\n\n166. C. L. N. A. I. _Rozgare_, \u00absome time.\u00bb In line 3 note the _madd_ of\n_An_ dropped. Bl., Prosody, p. 11.\n\n\n167.\n\n Be very wary in the soul's domain,\n And on the world's affairs your lips refrain;\n Be, as it were, sans tongue, sans ear, sans eye,\n While tongue, and ears, and eyes you still retain.\n\n167. L. N.\n\n\n168.\n\n Let him rejoice who has a loaf of bread,\n A little nest wherein to lay his head,\n Is slave to none, and no man slaves for him,--\n In truth his lot is wondrous well bested.\n\n168. C. L. N. A.\n\n\n169.\n\n What adds my service to Thy majesty?\n Or how can sin of mine dishonour Thee?\n O pardon, then, and punish not, I know\n Thou'rt slow to wrath, and prone to clemency.\n\n169. C. L. N. A. I.\n\n\n170.\n\n Hands, such as mine, that handle bowls of wine,\n 'Twere shame to book and pulpit to confine;\n Zealot! thou'rt dry, and I am moist with drink,\n Yea, far too moist to catch that fire of thine!\n\n170. L. N. I follow Nicolas in taking _mani_ as a possessive pronoun,\n\u00abmine,\u00bb though such a word is not mentioned in any grammar or\ndictionary. It occurs again in No. 478.\n\n\n171.\n\n Whoso aspires to gain a rose-cheeked fair,\n Sharp pricks from fortune's thorns must learn to bear.\n See! till this comb was cleft by cruel cuts,\n It never dared to touch my lady's hair.\n\n171. C. L. N. A. I. Lyttleton expresses a similar sentiment.\n\n\n172.\n\n For ever may my hands on wine be stayed.\n And my heart pant for some fair Houri maid!\n They say, \u00abMay Allah aid thee to repent!\u00bb\n Repent I could not, e'en with Allah's aid!\n\n172. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. Note the conjunctive pronoun separated from\nits noun.\n\n\n173.\n\n Soon shall I go, by time and fate deplored,\n Of all my precious pearls not one is bored;\n Alas! there die with me a thousand truths\n To which these fools fit audience ne'er accord.\n\n173. C. L. N. A. I.\n\n\n174.\n\n To-day how sweetly breathes the temperate air,\n The rains have newly laved the parched parterre;\n And Bulbuls cry in notes of ecstasy,\n \u00abThou too, O pallid rose, our wine must share!\u00bb\n\n174. L. N. B.\n\n\n175.\n\n Ere you succumb to shocks of mortal pain,\n The rosy grape-juice from your wine-cup drain.\n You are not gold, that, hidden in the earth,\n Your friends should care to dig you up again!\n\n175. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. Note the old form of the imperative.\n\n\n176.\n\n My coming brought no profit to the sky,\n Nor does my going swell its majesty;\n Coming and going put me to a stand,\n Ear never heard their wherefore nor their why.\n\n176. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. Voltaire has some similar lines in his poem on\nthe Lisbon earthquake.\n\n\n177.\n\n The heavenly Sage, whose wit exceeds compare,\n Counteth each vein, and numbereth every hair;\n Men you may cheat by hypocritic arts,\n But how cheat Him to whom all hearts are bare?\n\n177. C. L. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n178.\n\n Ah! wine lends wings to many a weary wight,\n And beauty spots to ladies' faces bright;\n All Ramazan I have not drunk a drop,\n Thrice welcome, then, O Bairam's blessed night!\n\n178. Bairam, the feast on the 1st Shawwal, after Ramazan. In line 2\n_Khirad_ seems wrong, the rhyme would suggest _Kharo_?\n\n\n179.\n\n All night in deep bewilderment I fret,\n With tear-drops big as pearls my breast is wet;\n I cannot fill my cranium with wine,\n How can it hold wine, when 'tis thus upset?\n\n179. C. L. N. A. I. Note _tashdid_ of _durr_ dropped.\n\n\n180.\n\n To prayer and fasting when my heart inclined,\n All my desire I surely hoped to find;\n Alas! my purity is stained with wine,\n My prayers are wasted like a breath of wind.\n\n180. C. L. N. A. I. In line 2 scan _Kulliyam_. In line 4 note _izafat_\ndropped after silent _he_.\n\n\n181.\n\n I worship rose-red cheeks with heart and soul,\n I suffer not my hand to quit the bowl,\n I make each part of me his function do,\n Or e'er my parts be swallowed in the Whole.\n\n181. C. L. N. A. I. Line 4 alludes to reabsorption in the Divine\nessence. Note _juzwiyam_, and _tashdid_ of _kull_ dropped.\n\n\n182.\n\n This worldly love of yours is counterfeit,\n And, like a half-spent blaze, lacks light and heat;\n True love is his, who for days, months and years,\n Rests not, nor sleeps, nor craves for drink or meat.\n\n182. L. N. B. Line 3 is in metre 17.\n\n\n183.\n\n Why spend life in vainglorious essay\n All Being and Not-being to survey?\n Since Death is ever pressing at your heels,\n 'Tis best to drink or dream your life away.\n\n183. C. L. N. A. I. J. In line 2 scan _payi_. Being, _i.e._, the Deity,\nthe only real existence, and Not-being, the nonentity in which His\nattributes are reflected.\n\n\n184.\n\n Some hanker after that vain phantasy\n Of Houris, feigned in Paradise to be,\n But, when the veil is lifted, they will find\n How far they are from Thee, how far from Thee!\n\n184. C. L. N. A. I.\n\n\n185.\n\n In Paradise, they tell us, Houris dwell,\n And fountains run with wine and oxymel:\n If these be lawful in the world to come,\n Surely 'tis right to love them here as well.\n\n185. C. L. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n186.\n\n A draught of wine would make a mountain dance,\n Base is the churl who looks at wine askance;\n Wine is a soul our bodies to inspire,\n A truce to this vain talk of temperance!\n\n186. C. L. N. A. I.\n\n\n187.\n\n Oft doth my soul her prisoned state bemoan,\n Her earth-born co-mate she would fain disown,\n And quit, did not the stirrup of the law\n Upbear her foot from dashing on the stone.\n\n187. N. Meaning, \u00abI would make away with myself, were it not for the\nAlmighty's canon 'gainst self-slaughter.\u00bb\n\n\n188.\n\n The moon of Ramazan is risen, see!\n Alas, our wine must henceforth banished be;\n Well! on Sha'ban's last day I'll drink enough\n To keep me drunk till Bairam's jubilee.\n\n188. C. L. N. A. I. Note _wa_ omitted in line 2. Also ascribed to Jalal\n'Asad Bardi.\n\n\n189.\n\n From life we draw now wine, now dregs to drink,\n Now flaunt in silk, and now in tatters shrink;\n Such changes wisdom holds of slight account\n To those who stand on death's appalling brink!\n\n189. N.\n\n\n190.\n\n What sage the eternal tangle e'er unravelled,\n Or one short step beyond his nature travelled?\n From pupils to the masters turn your eyes,\n And see, each mother's son alike is gravelled.\n\n190. C. L. N. A. B. I. In line 1 note _ra_ put after the genitive,\nfollowing its noun. _'Ijz._ ... \u00abimpotence is in the hand of each.\u00bb\n\u00abBeyond his nature,\u00bb _i.e._, beyond the limit of his own thought.\n\n\n191.\n\n Crave not of worldly sweets to take your fill,\n Nor wait on turns of fortune, good or ill;\n Be of light heart, as are the skies above,\n They roll a round or two, and then lie still.\n\n191. C. L. N. A. B. I. The skies have their allotted term like you, yet\ndo not distress themselves.\n\n\n192.\n\n What eye can pierce the veil of God's decrees,\n Or read the riddle of earth's destinies?\n Pondered have I for years threescore and ten,\n But still am baffled by these mysteries.\n\n192. C. L. N. A. I. So Job, \u00abThe thunder of his power who can\nunderstand?\u00bb\n\n\n193.\n\n They say, when the last trump shall sound its knell,\n Our Friend will sternly judge, and doom to hell.\n Can aught but good from perfect goodness come?\n Compose your trembling hearts, 'twill all be well.\n\n193. C. L. N. A. I. J. _Juzi_, (?) _juz az_.\n\n\n194.\n\n Drink wine to root up metaphysic weeds,\n And tangle of the two-and-seventy creeds;\n Do not forswear that wondrous alchemy,\n 'Twill turn to gold, and cure a thousand needs.\n\n194. C. L. N. A. B. I. Muhammad said, \u00abMy people shall be divided into\nseventy-three sects, all of which, save one, shall have their portion in\nthe fire.\u00bb Pocock, Specimen 210.\n\n\n195.\n\n Though drink is wrong, take care with whom you drink,\n And who you are that drink, and what you drink;\n And drink at will, for, these three points observed,\n Who but the very wise can ever drink?\n\n195. C. L. N. A. B. I. A hit at the casuistry on the subject of wine.\n\n\n196.\n\n To drain a gallon beaker I design,\n Yea, two great beakers, brimmed with richest wine;\n Old faith and reason thrice will I divorce,\n Then take to wife the daughter of the vine.\n\n196. C. N. A. I. A triple divorce is irrevocable. Koran, ii. 230.\n\n\n197.\n\n True I drink wine, like every man of sense,\n For I know Allah will not take offence;\n Before time was, He knew that I should drink,\n And who am I to thwart His prescience?\n\n197. C. L. N. A. B. I.\n\n\n198.\n\n Rich men, who take to drink, the world defy\n With shameless riot, and as beggars die;\n Place in my ruby pipe some emerald hemp,\n 'Twill do as well to blind care's serpent eye.\n\n198. C. L. N. A. I. Scan _af'ayi_. The emerald is supposed to have the\nvirtue of blinding serpents.\n\n\n199.\n\n These fools have never burnt the midnight oil\n In deep research, nor do they ever toil\n To step beyond themselves, but dress them fine,\n And plot of credit others to despoil.\n\n199. C. L. N, A. I. _Shame chand_ Vullers (p. 253) takes this _ya_ to be\n_ya i tankir_; and Lumsden (ii. 269) says the presence of this letter,\nbetween a noun and its attribute, dispenses with the _izafat_ (?). But\nwhy not add the _izafat_, and scan _Shamiyi_?\n\n\n200.\n\n When false dawn streaks the east with cold, grey line,\n Pour in your cups the pure blood of the vine;\n The truth, they say, tastes bitter in the mouth,\n This is a token that the \u00abTruth\u00bb is wine.\n\n200. C. L. N. A. I. J. False dawn, the faint light before sunrise.\n\n\n201.\n\n Now is the time earth decks her greenest bowers,\n And trees, like Musa's hand, grow white with flowers!\n As 'twere at 'Isa's breath the plants revive,\n While clouds brim o'er, like tearful eyes, with showers.\n\n201. C. L. N. A. B. I. Musa and 'Isa are often written without the _alif\ni maksur_. Bl., Prosody 3.\n\n\n202.\n\n O burden not thyself with drudgery,\n Lord of white silver and red gold to be;\n But feast with friends, ere this warm breath of thine\n Be chilled in death, and earthworms feast on thee.\n\n202. N.\n\n\n203.\n\n The showers of grape-juice, which cupbearers pour,\n Quench fires of grief in many a sad heart's core\n Praise be to Allah, who hath sent this balm\n To heal sore hearts, and spirits' health restore!\n\n203. C. L. N. A. B. I. In line 1 some MSS. reads _bakhak_. _Didayi\ngarm_, \u00abeyes of anguish.\u00bb Scan _garm atishi_ (_Alif i wasl_).\n\n\n204.\n\n Can alien Pharisees Thy kindness tell,\n Like us, Thy intimates, who nigh Thee dwell?\n Thou say'st, \u00abAll sinners will I burn with fire.\u00bb\n Say that to strangers, we know Thee too well.\n\n204. N.\n\n\n205.\n\n O comrades dear, when hither ye repair\n In times to come, communion sweet to share,\n While the cupbearer pours your old Magh wine,\n Call poor Khayyam to mind, and breathe a prayer.\n\n205. L. N. B. _Mayi_. The second _ya_ is the _ya i batni_.\n\n\n206.\n\n For me heaven's sphere no music ever made,\n Nor yet with soothing voice my fears allayed;\n If e'er I found brief respite from my woes,\n Back to woe's thrall I was at once betrayed.\n\n206. C. L. N. A. I.\n\n\n207.\n\n Sooner with half a loaf contented be,\n And water from a broken crock, like me,\n Than lord it over one poor fellow-man,\n Or to another bow the vassal knee.\n\n207. C. L. N. A. I. In line 2 note _izafat_ dropped after silent _he_,\n_Kam az Khude_, \u00abone less than yourself.\u00bb Vullers, p. 254.\n\n\n208.\n\n While Moon and Venus in the sky shall dwell,\n None shall see aught red grape-juice to excel:\n O foolish publicans, what can you buy\n One half so precious as the goods you sell?\n\n208. C. L. N. A. B. I.\n\n\n209.\n\n They who by genius, and by power of brain,\n The rank of man's enlighteners attain,\n Not even they emerge from this dark night,\n But tell their dreams, and fall asleep again.\n\n209. C. L. N. A. I. J. _Fisanaye, ya i tankir_.\n\n\n210.\n\n At dawn, when dews bedeck the tulip's face,\n And violets their heavy heads abase,\n I love to see the roses' folded buds,\n With petals closed against the wind's disgrace.\n\n210. L. B.\n\n\n211.\n\n Like as the skies rain down sweet jessamine,\n And sprinkle all the meads with eglantine,\n Right so, from out this jug of violet hue,\n I pour in lily cups this rosy wine.\n\n211. B. Here read _mayi_, with one _ya_, and _kasra_, because the metre\nrequires a word of only two consonants, and two short vowels, of the\n_wazn mafa_.\n\n\n212.\n\n Ah! thou hast snared this head, though white as snow,\n Which oft has vowed the wine-cup to forego;\n And wrecked the mansion long resolve did build,\n And rent the vesture penitence did sew!\n\n212. B. _Nabid_ is often written _nabiz_, probably a survival from the\ntime when _dals_ were dotted. Bl., Prosody 17.\n\n\n213.\n\n I am not one whom Death doth much dismay,\n Life's terrors all Death's terrors far outweigh;\n This life, that Heaven hath lent me for a while,\n I will pay back, when it is time to pay.\n\n213. C. L. A. B. I. B. reads _nim_ for _bim_ in line 2.\n\n\n214.\n\n The stars, who dwell on heaven's exalted stage,\n Baffle the wise diviners of our age;\n Take heed, hold fast the rope of mother wit.\n These augurs all distrust their own presage.\n\n214. L. B. A hit at the astrologers.\n\n\n215.\n\n The people who the heavenly world adorn,\n Who come each night, and go away each morn,\n Now on Heaven's skirt, and now in earth's deep pouch,\n While Allah lives, shall aye anew be born!\n\n215. L. B. Earth's pouch, _i.e._, \u00abbeneath the earth.\u00bb _Rezaye._ L.\nreads _didaye_. Both readings are probably wrong.\n\n\n216.\n\n Slaves of vain wisdom and philosophy,\n Who toil at Being and Nonentity,\n Parching your brains till they are like dry grapes,\n Be wise in time, and drink grape-juice, like me!\n\n216. B. The vanity of learning.\n\n\n217.\n\n Sense, seeking happiness, bids us pursue\n All present joys, and present griefs eschew;\n She says, we are not as the meadow grass,\n Which, when they mow it down, springs up anew.\n\n217. C. L. A. B. I. J. _Goyid_, from _goyidan_. _Ya i maksur_ followed\nby another _ya_ is in Persian words always _hamzated_ (Lumsden, i. 29;\nVullers, p. 24); and this _hamza i maksur_ is pronounced _ye_. Ibrahim,\nGrammar, p. 24.\n\n\n218.\n\n Now Ramazan is past, Shawwal comes back,\n And feast and song and joy no more we lack;\n The wine-skin carriers throng the streets and cry,\n \u00abHere comes the porter with his precious pack.\u00bb\n\n218. B. I incline to read _pusht bast_ for _pusht pusht_, which I do not\nunderstand.\n\n\n219.\n\n My comrades all are gone; Death, deadly foe,\n Has caught them one by one, and trampled low;\n They shared life's feast, and drank its wine with me,\n But lost their heads, and dropped a while ago.\n\n219. C. L. A. I. Quoted by _Badauni_, ii. 159.\n\n\n220.\n\n Those hypocrites, all know so well, who lurk\n In streets to beg their bread, and will not work,\n Claim to be saints, like Shibli and Junaid,\n No Shiblis are they, though well known in Karkh!\n\n220. C. L. A. I. L. Reads _bakahna namad_, but the line will not scan\nwith that reading. Line 4 is in metre 9. A saint called _Ma'ruf i\nKarkhi_, \u00abthe famed one of Karkh,\u00bb is mentioned in the _Nafahat ul Uns_.\nKarkh was a suburb of Bagdad.\n\n\n221.\n\n When the great Founder moulded me of old,\n He mixed much baser metal with my gold;\n Better or fairer I can never be\n Than I first issued from his heavenly mould.\n\n221. C. L. A. I.\n\n\n222.\n\n The joyous souls who quaff potations deep,\n And saints who in the mosques sad vigils keep,\n Are lost at sea alike, and find no shore,\n ONE only wakes, all others are asleep.\n\n222. L. B. One, _i.e._, the Deity.\n\n\n223.\n\n Not-being's water served to mix my clay,\n And on my heart grief's fire doth ever prey,\n And blown am I like wind about the world,\n And last my crumbling earth is swept away.\n\n223. L. This introduction of the four elements in one quatrain is called\n_Mutazadd_. Gladwin, p. 60.\n\n\n224.\n\n Small gains to learning on this earth accrue,\n They pluck life's fruitage, learning who eschew;\n Take pattern by the fools who learning shun,\n And then perchance shall fortune smile on you.\n\n224. C. L. A. I. _Bu_ contracted from _buzad_\n\n\n225.\n\n When the fair soul this mansion doth vacate,\n Each element assumes its primal state,\n And all the silken furniture of life\n Is then dismantled by the blows of fate.\n\n225. C. L. A. I. _Abresham tab'_, like _Hatim tab'_.\n\n\n226.\n\n These people string their beads of learned lumber,\n And tell of Allah stories without number;\n Yet never solve the riddle of the skies,\n But wag the chin, and get them back to slumber.\n\n226. Possibly a hit at the _Mutakallamin_, or scholastic theologians.\n\n\n227.\n\n These folk are asses, laden with conceit,\n And glittering drums, that empty sounds repeat,\n And humble slaves are they of name and fame,\n Acquire a name, and, lo! they kiss thy feet.\n\n227. C. L. A. I. _Ba afsos_ is an epithet, like _ba khabar_, and hence\n_kharan_, the noun qualified by it, takes the _izafat_. Lumsden, ii.\n259. _Pur mash'ala_, \u00abfull of glitter\u00bb; compare _pur mae_ in No. 179.\n\n\n228.\n\n On the dread day of final scrutiny\n Thou wilt be rated by thy quality;\n Get wisdom and fair qualities to-day,\n For, as thou art, requited wilt thou be.\n\n228. C. L. A. I.\n\n\n229.\n\n Many fine heads, like bowls, the Brazier made,\n And thus his own similitude portrayed;\n He set one upside down above our heads,\n Which keeps us all continually afraid.\n\n229. C. L. A. I. \u00abOne upside down,\u00bb _i.e._, the sky. _Kansa_ is also\nspelled _kasa_.\n\n\n230.\n\n My true condition I may thus explain\n In two short verses which the whole contain:\n \u00abFrom love to Thee I now lay down my life,\n In hope Thy love will raise me up again.\u00bb\n\n230. C. L. A. I. Scan _wakiayi_. Here _hamza_ stands for _ya i tankir_.\n\n\n231.\n\n The heart, like tapers, takes at beauty's eyes\n A flame, and lives by that whereby it dies;\n And beauty is a flame where hearts, like moths,\n Offer themselves a burning sacrifice.\n\n231. L. Metre Ramal, No. 50. In line 3 the first syllable is short. See\nBl., Prosody, p. 43. In this form the metre is like Horace's \u00ab_Miserarum\nest_,\u00bb etc.\n\n\n232.\n\n To please the righteous life itself I sell,\n And, though they tread me down, never rebel;\n Men say, \u00abInform us what and where is hell?\u00bb\n Ill company will make this earth a hell.\n\n232. C. L. A. I. Also ascribed to Hafiz.\n\n\n233.\n\n The sun doth smite the roofs with Orient ray\n And, Khosrau like, his wine-red sheen display;\n Arise, and drink! the herald of the dawn\n Uplifts his voice, and cries, \u00abOh, drink to-day!\u00bb\n\n233. C. L. A. I. J.\n\n\n234.\n\n Comrades! when e'er you meet together here,\n Recall your friend to mind, and drop a tear;\n And when the circling wine-cups reach his seat,\n Pray turn one upside down his dust to cheer.\n\n234. B. A variation of No. 205.\n\n\n235.\n\n That grace and favour at the first, what meant it?\n That lavishing of joy and peace, what meant it?\n But now thy purpose is to grieve my heart;\n What did I do to cause this change? What meant it?\n\n235. B. So Job, \u00abHe multiplieth my wounds without cause.\u00bb\n\n\n236.\n\n These hypocrites who build on saintly show,\n Treating the body as the spirit's foe,\n If they will shut their mouths with lime, like jars,\n My jar of grape-juice I will then forego.\n\n236. L. B. B. reads _arra_, of which I can make no sense. _Bar fark\nniham_, \u00abI will put aside\u00bb; _bar fark_ (line 4), \u00abon their mouths.\u00bb\n\n\n237.\n\n Many have come, and run their eager race,\n Striving for pleasures, luxuries, or place,\n And quaffed their wine, and now all silent lie,\n Enfolded in their parent earth's embrace.\n\n237. C. L. A. I.\n\n\n238.\n\n Then, when the good reap fruits of labours past,\n My hapless lot with drunkards will be cast;\n If good, may I be numbered with the first,\n If bad, find grace and mercy with the last.\n\n238. C. L. A. I.\n\n\n239.\n\n Of happy turns of fortune take your fill,\n Seek pleasure's couch, or wine-cup, as you will;\n Allah regards not if you sin, or saint it,\n So take your pleasure, be it good or ill.\n\n239. C. L. N. A. I. J. Alluding to the _Hadis_, \u00abThese are in heaven,\nand Allah regards not their sins, and those in hell, and Allah regards\nnot their good works.\u00bb See _Gulshan i' Raz_, p. 55.\n\n\n240.\n\n Heaven multiplies our sorrows day by day,\n And grants no joys it does not take away;\n If those unborn could know the ills we bear,\n What think you, would they rather come or stay?\n\n240. C. L. N. A. I. J. This recalls Byron's \u00abStanzas for Music.\u00bb\n\n\n241.\n\n Why ponder thus the future to foresee,\n And jade thy brain to vain perplexity?\n Cast off thy care, leave Allah's plans to him,\n He formed them all without consulting thee.\n\n241. C. L. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n242.\n\n The tenants of the tombs to dust decay,\n Nescient of self, and all beside are they;\n Their sundered atoms float about the world,\n Like mirage clouds, until the judgment day.\n\n242. C. L. N. A. I. J. In line 4 some MSS. read _sharab_ and change the\norder of the lines.\n\n\n243.\n\n O soul! lay up all earthly goods in store,\n Thy mead with pleasure's flowerets spangle o'er;\n And know 'tis all as dew, that decks the flowers\n For one short night, and then is seen no more!\n\n243. C. L. N. A. I. J. There are several variations of this.\n\n\n244.\n\n Heed not the Sunna, nor the law divine;\n If to the poor his portion you assign,\n And never injure one, nor yet abuse,\n I guarantee you heaven, and now some wine!\n\n244. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. See Koran, ii. 172: \u00abThere is no piety in\nturning your faces to the east or west, but he is pious who believeth in\nGod ... and disburseth his wealth to the needy,\u00bb etc.\n\n\n245.\n\n Vexed by this wheel of things, that pets the base,\n My sorrow-laden life drags on apace;\n Like rosebud, from the storm I wrap me close,\n And blood-spots on my heart, like tulip, trace.\n\n245. N.\n\n\n246.\n\n Youth is the time to pay court to the vine,\n To quaff the cup, with revellers to recline;\n A flood of water once laid waste the earth,\n Hence learn to lay you waste with floods of wine.\n\n246. C. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n247.\n\n The world is baffled in its search for Thee,\n Wealth cannot find Thee, no, nor poverty;\n Thou'rt very near us, but our ears are deaf,\n Our eyes are blinded that we may not see!\n\n247. N. So Hafiz, Ode 355 (Brockhaus): \u00abHow can our eyes behold Thee as\nThou art?\u00bb\n\n\n248.\n\n Take care you never hold a drinking-bout\n With an ill-tempered, ill-conditioned lout;\n He'll make a vile disturbance all night long,\n And vile apologies next day, no doubt.\n\n248. C. L. N. A. I. J. In line 3 scan _badmastiyo_ and in line 4\n_Khwahiyash_.\n\n\n249.\n\n The starry aspects are not all benign;\n Why toil then after vain desires, and pine\n To lade thyself with load of fortune's boons,\n Only to drop it with this life of thine?\n\n249. C. L. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n250.\n\n O comrades! here is filtered wine, come drink!\n Pledge all your charming sweethearts as you drink;\n 'Tis the grape's blood, and this is what it says,\n \u00abTo you I dedicate my life-blood! drink!\u00bb\n\n250. C. L. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n251.\n\n Are you depressed? Then take of _bhang_ one grain,\n Of rosy grape-juice take one pint or twain;\n Sufis, you say, must not take this or that,\n Then go and eat the pebbles off the plain!\n\n251. N. In line 1 and 2 scan _yakjawaki_ and _manaki_, _ak_ being the\ndiminutive, and _ya_ the _ya i tankir_, displacing the _izafat_:\nLumsden, ii, 269. _Bhang_, a narcotic, made from hemp.\n\n\n252.\n\n I saw a busy potter by the way\n Kneading with might and main a lump of clay;\n And, lo! the clay cried, \u00abUse me gently, pray;\n I was a man myself but yesterday!\u00bb\n\n252. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. _Hal_, ecstasy.\n\n\n253.\n\n Oh! wine is richer that the realm of Jam,\n More fragrant than the food of Miriam;\n Sweeter are sighs that drunkards heave at morn\n Than strains of Bu Sa'id and Bin Adham.\n\n253. C. L. N. A. I. J. Abu Sa'id Abu'l Khair and Ibrahim Bin Adham are\nboth mentioned in the _Nafahat ul Uns_. \u00abMiriam's food.\u00bb See Koran, xix.\n24. Note _izafat_ dropped after silent _he_.\n\n\n254.\n\n Deep in the rondure of the heavenly blue,\n There is a cup, concealed from mortals' view,\n Which all must drink in turn; Oh, sigh not then,\n But drink it boldly, when it comes to you!\n\n254. C. L. A. I. J. _Jawr_, a \u00abbumper.\u00bb\n\n\n255.\n\n Though you should live to four, or forty score,\n Go hence you must, as all have gone before;\n Then, be you king, or beggar of the streets,\n They'll rate you all the same, no less, no more.\n\n255. L.\n\n\n256.\n\n If you seek Him, abandon child and wife,\n Arise, and sever all these ties to life;\n All these are bonds to check you on your course.\n Arise, and cut these bonds, as with a knife.\n\n256. L. B. So _Gulshan i Raz_, l. 944.\n\n\n257.\n\n O heart! this world is but a fleeting show,\n Why should its empty griefs distress thee so?\n Bow down, and bear thy fate, the eternal pen\n Will not unwrite its roll for thee, I trow!\n\n257. L. N. B. The \u00abpen\u00bb is that with which Allah writes his decrees.\n\n\n258.\n\n Who e'er returned of all that went before,\n To tell of that long road they travel o'er?\n Leave naught undone of what you have to do,\n For when you go, you will return no more.\n\n258. C. N. L. A. I. J. _Amadaye, ya i tankir_.\n\n\n259.\n\n Dark wheel! how many lovers thou hast slain,\n Like Mahmud and Ayaz, O inhumane!\n Come, let us drink, thou grantest not two lives,\n When one is spent, we find it not again.\n\n259. L. N. Mahmud, the celebrated king of Ghazni, and Ayaz his\nfavourite. Scan _wayaz_ (_alif i wasl_).\n\n\n260.\n\n Illustrious Prophet! whom all kings obey,\n When is our darkness lightened by wine's ray?\n On Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday,\n Friday, and Saturday, both night and day!\n\n260. C. L. N. A. I. J. The _jim_ in _panjshamba_ is dropped in scanning.\nSee Bl., Prosody, p. 10. In line 4 note silent _he_ in _shauba_ scanned\nlong as well as short.\n\n\n261.\n\n O turn away those roguish eyes of thine!\n Be still! seek not my peace to undermine!\n Thou say'st, \u00abLook not.\u00bb I might as well essay\n To slant my goblet, and not spill my wine.\n\n261. N. Line 4, a proverb denoting an impossibility.\n\n\n262.\n\n In taverns better far commune with Thee,\n Than pray in mosques, and fail Thy face to see!\n O first and last of all Thy creatures Thou,\n 'Tis Thine to burn, and Thine to cherish me!\n\n262. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. This is clearly an address to the Deity.\n\n\n263.\n\n To wise and worthy men your life devote,\n But from the worthless keep your walk remote;\n Dare to take poison from a sage's hand,\n But from a fool refuse an antidote.\n\n263. L. N. Line 2 is in metre 17.\n\n\n264.\n\n I flew here, as a bird from the wild, in aim\n Up to a higher nest my course to frame,\n But, finding here no guide who knows the way,\n Fly out by the same door where through I came.\n\n264. C. L. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n265.\n\n He binds us in resistless Nature's chain,\n And yet bids us our natures to restrain;\n Between these counter rules we stand perplexed,\n \u00abHold the jar slant, but all the wine retain.\u00bb\n\n265. L. N. In line 3 scan _nahyash_. So Lord Brooke in \u00abMustapha\u00bb;\nWard's English Poets, i. 370.\n\n\n266.\n\n They go away, and none is seen returning,\n To teach that other world's recondite learning;\n 'Twill not be shown for dull mechanic prayers,\n For prayer is naught without true heartfelt yearning.\n\n266. C. L. N. A. I. The _formal_ prayers of Moslems are rather\nascriptions of praise, and repetitions of texts, than petitions.\n\n\n267.\n\n Go to! Cast dust on those deaf skies, who spurn\n Thy orisons and bootless prayers, and learn\n To quaff the cup, and hover round the fair;\n Of all who go, did ever one return?\n\n267. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. An answer to the last.\n\n\n268.\n\n Though Khayyam strings no pearls of righteous deeds,\n Nor sweeps from off his soul sin's noisome weeds,\n Yet will he not despair of heavenly grace,\n Seeing that ONE as two he ne'er misreads.\n\n268. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. _Tauhid_, or Unitarianism, is the central\ndoctrine of Islam. So Hafiz, Ode 465.\n\n\n269.\n\n Again to tavern haunts do we repair,\n And say \u00abAdieu\u00bb to the five hours of prayer;\n Where'er we see a long-necked flask of wine,\n We elongate our necks that wine to share.\n\n269. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. _Takbir_, or _tekbir_ the formula \u00ab_Allah\nakbar_,\u00bb in saying which the mind should be abstracted from worldly\nthoughts; hence \u00abrenunciation.\u00bb See Nicolas.\n\n\n270.\n\n We are but chessmen, destined, it is plain,\n That great chess-player, Heaven, to entertain;\n It moves us on life's chess-board to and fro,\n And then in death's dark box shuts up again.\n\n270. L. N. B. _Hakikati_, see Bl., Prosody 3.\n\n\n271.\n\n You ask what is this life so frail, so vain,\n 'Tis long to tell, yet will I make it plain;\n 'Tis but a breath blown from the vasty deeps,\n And then blown back to those same deeps again!\n\n271. C. L. N. A. I. J. Some MSS. read _naksh_. Deeps, _i.e._, the ocean\nof Not-being.\n\n\n272.\n\n To-day to heights of rapture have I soared,\n Yea, and with drunken Maghs pure wine adored;\n I am become beside myself, and rest\n In that pure temple, \u00abAm not I your Lord?\u00bb\n\n272. C. L. N. A. I. J. _Alasto birabbikum_, Allah's words to Adam's\nsons: Koran vii. 171. So in Hafiz, Ode 43 (Brockhaus).\n\n\n273.\n\n My queen (long may she live to vex her slave!)\n To-day a token of affection gave,\n Darting a kind glance from her eyes, she passed,\n And said, \u00abDo good and cast it on the wave!\u00bb\n\n273. L. N. Meaning, hope not for a return to your love. _Nekuyey_, \u00aba\ngood act,\u00bb _ya_ conjunctive and _ya i tankir_, Vullers, p. 250.\n\n\n274.\n\n I put my lips to the cup, for I did yearn\n The hidden cause of length of days to learn;\n He leaned his lip to mine, and whispered low,\n \u00abDrink! for, once gone, you never will return.\u00bb\n\n274. C. L. A. B. I. J. Some MSS. give line 4 differently.\n\n\n275.\n\n We lay in the cloak of Naught, asleep and still,\n Thou said'st, \u00abAwake! taste the world's good and ill\u00bb;\n Here we are puzzled by Thy strange command,\n From slanted jars no single drop to spill.\n\n275. L. Naught, _i.e._, Not-being. See note to No. 183.\n\n\n276.\n\n O Thou! who know'st the secret thoughts of all,\n In time of sorest need who aidest all,\n Grant me repentance, and accept my plea,\n O Thou who dost accept the pleas of all!\n\n276. C. L. N. A. I. J. Note _tashdid_ on _rabb_ dropped.\n\n\n277.\n\n I saw a bird perched on the walls of Tus,\n Before him lay the skull of Kai Kawus,\n And thus he made his moan, \u00abAlas, poor king!\n Thy drums are hushed, thy 'larums have rung truce.\u00bb\n\n277. C. L. N. A. Tus was near Nishapur.\n\n\n278.\n\n Ask not the chances of the time to be,\n And for the past, 'tis vanished, as you see;\n This ready-money breath set down as gain,\n Future and past concern not you or me.\n\n278. C. L. N. A. I. J. In line 1 note _izafat_ dropped after silent\n_he_. Compare Horace's Ode to Leuconoe.\n\n\n279.\n\n What launched that golden orb his course to run,\n What wrecks his firm foundations, when 'tis done,\n No man of science ever weighed with scales,\n Nor made assay with touchstone, no, not one!\n\n279. L. The vanity of science.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: _SUFI MYSTICS GATHERED FOR MEDITATION_\n_From an old painting by a Pushtu artist_]\n\n\n280.\n\n I pray thee to my counsel lend thine ear,\n Cast off this false hypocrisy's veneer;\n This life a moment is, the next all time,\n Sell not eternity for earthly gear!\n\n280. C. L. N. A. B. I. Note _ra_ separated from its noun, as before.\nVullers, p. 173.\n\n\n281.\n\n Ofttimes I plead my foolishness to Thee,\n My heart contracted with perplexity;\n I gird me with the Magian zone, and why?\n For shame so poor a Musulman to be.\n\n281. C. L. N. A. I. J. In line 1 scan _nadaniyi_, dissolving the long\n_ya_.\n\n\n282.\n\n Khayyam! rejoice that wine you still can pour,\n And still the charms of tulip cheeks adore;\n You'll soon not be, rejoice then that you are,\n Think how 'twould be in case you were no more!\n\n282. C. L. N. A. B. I. J.\n\n\n283.\n\n Once, in a potter's shop, a company\n Of cups in converse did I chance to see,\n And lo! one lifted up his voice, and cried,\n \u00abWho made, who sells, who buys this crockery?\u00bb\n\n283. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. Men's speculations.\n\n\n284.\n\n Last night, as I reeled from the tavern door,\n I saw a sage, who a great wine-jug bore;\n I said, \u00abO Shaikh, have you no shame?\u00bb Said he,\n \u00abAllah hath boundless mercy in his store.\u00bb\n\n284. C. L. N. A. I. J. _Sar mast_, a compound, hence _izafat_ omitted.\n_Saboyey, hamza_ (for conjunctive _ya_) followed by _ya i tankir_. See\nLumsden, ii. 269.\n\n\n285.\n\n Life's fount is wine, Khizir its guardian,\n I, like Elias, find it where I can,\n 'Tis sustenance for heart and spirit too,\n Allah himself calls wine \u00aba boon to man.\u00bb\n\n285. C. L. N. A. I. J. Koran, ii. 216. Elias discovered the water of\nlife.\n\n\n286.\n\n Though wine is banned, yet drink, for ever drink!\n By day and night, with strains of music drink!\n Where'er thou lightest on a cup of wine,\n Spill just one drop, and take the rest and drink!\n\n286. C. L. N. A. I. J. To spill a drop is a sign of\nliberality.--Nicolas.\n\n\n287.\n\n Although the creeds number some seventy-three,\n I hold with none but that of loving Thee;\n What matter faith, unfaith, obedience, sin?\n Thou'rt all we need, the rest is vanity.\n\n287. N. See note on Quatrain 194. Forms of faith are indifferent. See\n_Gulshan i Raz_, p. 83.\n\n\n288.\n\n Tell one by one my scanty virtues o'er;\n As for my sins, forgive them by the score;\n Let not my faults kindle Thy wrath to flame;\n By blest Muhammad's tomb, forgive once more!\n\n288. L. N. B. _Rasul-ullah_: the construction being Arabic, _izafat_ is\nneeded. Lumsden, ii. p. 251. Also ascribed to Zahir ud-din Faryabi.\n\n\n289.\n\n Grieve not at coming ill, you can't defeat it,\n And what far-sighted person goes to meet it?\n Cheer up! bear not about a world of grief,\n Your fate is fixed, and grieving will not cheat it.\n\n289. L. Line 2 is a question.\n\n\n290.\n\n There is a chalice made with wit profound,\n With tokens of the Maker's favour crowned;\n Yet the world's Potter takes his masterpiece,\n And dashes it to pieces on the ground!\n\n290. C. L. A. I. J. So Job, \u00abIs it good unto Thee that Thou shouldest\ndespise the labour of Thine hands?\u00bb\n\n\n291.\n\n In truth wine is a spirit thin as air,\n A limpid soul in the cup's earthen ware;\n No dull, dense person shall be friend of mine\n Save wine-cups, which are dense and also rare.\n\n291. L. N. B. _Layik . man izafat_ omitted because of the intervening\nwords. Lumsden, ii. 250.\n\n\n292.\n\n O wheel of heaven! no ties of bread you feel,\n No ties of salt, you flay me like an eel!\n A woman's wheel spins clothes for man and wife,\n It does more good than you, O heavenly wheel!\n\n292. C. L. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n293.\n\n Did no fair rose my paradise adorn,\n I would make shift to deck it with a thorn;\n And if I lacked my prayer-mats, beads, and Shaikh,\n 'Those Christian bells and stoles I would not scorn.\n\n293. C. L. N. A. I. (under _Te_). Line 2 is omitted in the translation.\nSo Pope, \u00abFor forms and creeds let graceless zealots fight.\u00bb\n\n\n294.\n\n \u00abIf heaven deny me peace and fame,\u00bb I said,\n \u00abLet it be open war and shame instead;\n The man who scorns bright wine had best beware,\n I'll arm me with a stone, and break his head!\u00bb\n\n294. C. L. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n295.\n\n See! the dawn breaks, and rends night's canopy:\n Arise! and drain a morning draught with me!\n Away with gloom! full many a dawn will break\n Looking for us, and we not here to see!\n\n295. C. L. N A. I. J. _Bisyar_, \u00abfrequently.\u00bb\n\n\n296.\n\n O you who tremble not at fires of hell,\n Nor wash in water of remorse's well,\n When winds of death shall quench your vital torch,\n Beware lest earth your guilty dust expel.\n\n296. L. Possibly written by some pious reader as an answer to Khayyam's\nscoffs. See note on Quatrain 223.\n\n\n297.\n\n This world a hollow pageant you should deem;\n All wise men know things are not what they seem;\n Be of good cheer, and drink, and so shake off\n This vain illusion of a baseless dream.\n\n297. L. N. All earthly existence is \u00ab_Maya_\u00bb\n\n\n298.\n\n With maids stately as cypresses, and fair\n As roses newly plucked, your wine-cups share,\n Or e'er Death's blasts shall rend your robe of flesh\n Like yonder rose leaves, lying scattered there!\n\n298. C. L. N. I. J. The Lucknow commentator says _daman i gul_ means the\nmaid's cheek.\n\n\n299.\n\n Cast off dull care, O melancholy brother!\n Woo the sweet daughter of the grape, no other;\n The daughter is forbidden, it is true,\n But she is nicer than her lawful mother!\n\n299. N. \u00abDaughter of the grape,\u00bb _i.e._, wine, a translation of an\nArabic phrase.\n\n\n300.\n\n My love shone forth, and I was overcome,\n My heart was speaking, but my tongue was dumb;\n Beside the water-brooks I died of thirst.\n Was ever known so strange a martyrdom?\n\n300. N. _Dil rubaye_, \u00abthat well-known charmer.\u00bb Lumsden, ii. 142. _Pur\nsukhan_. See note on No. 227.\n\n\n301.\n\n Give me my cup in hand, and sing a glee\n In concert with the bulbul's symphony;\n Wine would not gurgle as it leaves the flask,\n If drinking mute were right for thee and me!\n\n301. C. L. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n302.\n\n The \u00abTruth\u00bb will not be shown to lofty thought,\n Nor yet with lavished gold may it be bought;\n But, if you yield your life for fifty years,\n From words to \u00abstates\u00bb you may perchance be brought.\n\n302. L. Line 3, literally, \u00abUnless you dig up your soul, and eat blood\nfor fifty years.\u00bb \u00abStates\u00bb of ecstatic union with the \u00abTruth,\u00bb or Deity\nof the Mystics.\n\n\n303.\n\n I solved all problems, down from Saturn's wreath\n Unto this lowly sphere of earth beneath,\n And leapt out free from bonds of fraud and lies,\n Yea, every knot was loosed, save that of death!\n\n303. C. L. A. I. J.\n\n\n304.\n\n Peace! the eternal \u00abHas been\u00bb and \u00abTo be\u00bb\n Pass man's experience, and man's theory;\n In joyful seasons naught can vie with wine,\n To all these riddles wine supplies the key!\n\n304. C. L. A. B. I. J.\n\n\n305.\n\n Allah, our Lord, is merciful, though just;\n Sinner! despair not, but His mercy trust!\n For though to-day you perish in your sins,\n To-morrow He'll absolve your crumbling dust.\n\n305. C. L. N. A. I. J. A very Voltairean quatrain.\n\n\n306.\n\n Your course annoys me, O ye wheeling skies!\n Unloose me from your chain of tyrannies!\n If none but fools your favours may enjoy,\n Then favour me,--I am not very wise!\n\n306. C. L. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n307.\n\n O City Mufti, you go more astray\n Than I do, though to wine I do give way;\n I drink the blood of grapes, you that of men:\n Which of us is the more bloodthirsty, pray?\n\n307. C. L. N. A. I. J. Alluding to the selling of justice by Muftis.\n\n\n308.\n\n 'Tis well to drink, and leave anxiety\n For what is past, and what is yet to be;\n Our prisoned spirits, lent us for a day,\n A while from season's bondage shall go free!\n\n308. C. L. N. A. I. J. _'Ariyati rawan_, \u00abthis borrowed soul.\u00bb\n\n\n309.\n\n When Khayyam quittance at Death's hand receives,\n And sheds his outworn life, as trees their leaves,\n Full gladly will he sift this world away,\n Ere dustmen sift his ashes in their sieves.\n\n309. C. L. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n310.\n\n This wheel of heaven, which makes us all afraid,\n I liken to a lamp's revolving shade,\n The sun the candlestick, the earth the shade,\n And men the trembling forms thereon portrayed.\n\n310. C. L. N. A. B. I. _Fanus i khiyal_, a magic or Chinese lantern.\n\n\n311.\n\n Who was it that did mix my clay? Not I.\n Who spun my web of silk and wool? Not I.\n Who wrote upon my forehead all my good,\n And all my evil deeds? In truth not I.\n\n311. C. L. N. A. I. In line 2 rhyme shows the word to be _rishtai_, not\n_rushtai_.\n\n\n312.\n\n O let us not forecast to-morrow's fears,\n But count to-day as gain, my brave compeers!\n To-morrow we shall quit this inn, and march\n With comrades who have marched seven thousand years.\n\n312. C. L. N. A. I. J. Badauni (ii. 337) says the creation of Adam was\n7000 years before his time. Compare Hafiz, _Ruba'i_ 10.\n\n\n313.\n\n Ne'er for one moment leave your cup unused!\n Wine keeps heart, faith, and reason too, amused;\n Had Iblis swallowed but a single drop,\n To worship Adam he had ne'er refused!\n\n313. C. L. (in part) N. A. I. J. See Koran, ii. 31.\n\n\n314.\n\n Come, dance! while we applaud thee, and adore\n Thy sweet Narcissus eyes, and grape-juice pour;\n A score of cups is no such great affair,\n But 'tis enchanting when we reach three score!\n\n314. N. Narcissus eyes, _i.e._, languid.\n\n\n315.\n\n I close the door of hope in my own face,\n Nor sue for favours from good men, or base;\n I have but ONE to lend a helping hand,\n He knows, as well as I, my sorry case.\n\n315. C. L. N. A. I. J. A \u00ab_Haliya_\u00bb quatrain, lamenting his own\ncondition.\n\n\n316.\n\n Ah! by these heavens, that ever circling run,\n And by my own base lusts I am undone,\n Without the wit to abandon worldly hopes,\n And wanting sense the world's allures to shun!\n\n316. C. L. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n317.\n\n On earth's green carpet many sleepers lie,\n And hid beneath it others I descry,\n And others, not yet come, or passed away,\n People the desert of Nonentity!\n\n317. C. L. N. A. I. J. The sleepers on the earth are those sunk in the\nsleep of superstition and ignorance.\n\n\n318.\n\n Sure of Thy grace, for sins why need I fear?\n How can the pilgrim faint whilst Thou art near?\n On the last day Thy grace will wash me white,\n And make my \u00abblack record\u00bb to disappear.\n\n318. C. L. N. A. I. J. Lumsden, ii, 72. See Koran, xiii. 47.\n\n\n319.\n\n Think not I dread from out the world to hie,\n And see my disembodied spirit fly;\n I tremble not at death, for death is true,\n 'Tis my ill life that makes me fear to die!\n\n319. C. L. N. A. I. J. \u00abDeath is true,\u00bb _i.e._ a certainty. So Sir\nPhilip Sidney (after M. Aurelius), \u00abSince Nature's works be good, and\ndeath doth serve as Nature's work, why should we fear to die?\u00bb\n\n\n320.\n\n Let us shake off dull reason's incubus,\n Our tale of days or years cease to discuss,\n And take our jugs, and plenish them with wine,\n Or e'er grim potters make their jugs of us!\n\n320. C. L. N. A. B. I. J.\n\n\n321.\n\n How much more wilt thou chide, O raw divine,\n For that I drink, and am a libertine?\n Thou hast thy weary beads, and saintly show,\n Leave me my cheerful sweetheart, and my wine!\n\n321. C. L. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n322.\n\n Against my lusts I ever war, in vain,\n I think on my ill deeds with shame and pain;\n I trust Thou wilt assoil me of my sins,\n But even so, my shame must still remain.\n\n322. C. L. N. A. B. I.\n\n\n323.\n\n In these twin compasses, O Love, you see\n One body with two heads, like you and me,\n Which wander round one centre, circlewise.\n But at the last in one same point agree.\n\n323. C. L. N. A. I. Mr. Fitzgerald quotes a similar figure used by the\npoet Donne, for which see Ward's \u00abEnglish Poets,\u00bb i. 562. The two heads\nare the points of the compasses.\n\n\n324.\n\n We shall not stay here long, but while we do,\n 'Tis folly wine and sweethearts to eschew;\n Why ask if earth etern or transient be?\n Since you must go, it matters not to you.\n\n324. C. L. N. A. B. I. J.\n\n\n325.\n\n In reverent sort to mosque I wend my way,\n But, by great Allah, it is not to pray;\n No! but to steal a prayer-mat! When 'tis worn,\n I go again, another to purvey.\n\n325. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. To \u00absteal a prayer-mat\u00bb is to pray to be seen\nof men.--Nicolas. A satire on some hypocrite, perhaps himself.\n\n\n326.\n\n No more let fate's annoys our peace consume,\n But let us rather rosy wine consume,\n The world our murderer is, and wine its blood,\n Shall we not then that murderer's blood consume?\n\n326. L. N. See Koran, ii. 187.\n\n\n327.\n\n For Thee I vow to cast repute away,\n And, if I shrink, the penalty to pay;\n Though life might satisfy Thy cruelty,\n 'Twere naught, I'll bear it till the judgment-day!\n\n327. C. L. N. A. B. I.\n\n\n328.\n\n In Being's rondure do we stray belated,\n Our pride of manhood humbled and abated;\n Would we were gone! long since have we been wearied\n With this world's griefs, and with its pleasures sated.\n\n328. L. N.\n\n\n329.\n\n The world is false, so I'll be false as well,\n And with bright wine, and gladness ever dwell!\n They say, \u00abMay Allah grant thee penitence!\u00bb\n He grants it not, and, did he, I'd rebel!\n\n329. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. A pun in the original.\n\n\n330.\n\n When Death shall tread me down upon the plain,\n And pluck my feathers, and my life-blood drain,\n Then mould me to a cup, and fill with wine,\n Haply its scent will make me breathe again.\n\n330. C. L. N. A. B. I. J.\n\n\n331.\n\n So far as this world's dealings I have traced,\n I find its favours shamefully misplaced;\n Allah be praised! I see myself debarred\n From all its boons, and wrongfully disgraced.\n\n331. C. L. N. A. I. _Alam hama_, etc., \u00abstates entirely gratuitous.\u00bb\nWrite _baran_ without a _madd_. Bl., Prosody, p. 11. Compare\nShakespeare, Sonnet 66.\n\n\n332.\n\n 'Tis dawn! my heart with wine I will recruit,\n And dash to bits the glass of good repute;\n My long-extending hopes I will renounce,\n And grasp long tresses, and the charming lute.\n\n332. L. N. B.\n\n\n333.\n\n Though I had sinned the sins of all mankind,\n I know Thou would'st to mercy be inclined;\n Thou sayest, \u00abI will help in time of need\u00bb\n One needier than I where wilt Thou find?\n\n333. C. L. N. A. I. J. The _waw_ in _'afw_ is a consonant, and therefore\ntakes _kasra_ for the _izafat_, without the intervention of conjunctive\n_ya_.\n\n\n334.\n\n Am I a wine-bibber? What if I am?\n Gueber or infidel? Suppose I am?\n Each sect miscalls me, but I heed them not,\n I am my own, and, what I am, I am.\n\n334. C. L. N. A. I. J. _Zan i khud_ for _azan i khud_, \u00abmy own\nproperty.\u00bb\n\n\n335.\n\n All my life long from drink I have not ceased,\n And drink I will to-night on Kadr's feast;\n And throw my arms about the wine-jar's neck,\n And kiss its lip, and clasp it to my breast!\n\n335. C. L. N. A. I. J. _Kadr_ the night of power. Koran, xcvi. 1.\n\n\n336.\n\n I know what is, and what is not, I know\n The lore of things above, and things below;\n But all this lore will cheerfully renounce,\n If one a higher grade than drink can show.\n\n336. L. N. B. Line 1, Being and Not-being, \u00abGrade,\u00bb _i.e._, of learning.\n\n\n337.\n\n Though I drink wine, I am no libertine,\n Nor am I grasping, save of cups of wine;\n I scruple to adore myself, like you;\n For this cause to wine-worship I incline.\n\n337. C. L. N. A. I. J. A hit at the vain and covetous Mollas. Also\nascribed to Anwari.\n\n\n338.\n\n To confidants like you I dare to say\n What mankind really are--moulded of clay,\n Affliction's clay, and kneaded in distress,\n They taste the world awhile, then pass away.\n\n338. C. L. N. A. I. J. Note the archaic form.\n\n\n339.\n\n We make the wine-jar's lip our place of prayer,\n And drink in lessons of true manhood there,\n And pass our lives in taverns, if perchance\n The time mis-spent in mosques we may repair.\n\n339. L. N. This quatrain is probably Mystical.\n\n\n340.\n\n Man is the whole creation's summary,\n The precious apple of great wisdom's eye;\n The circle of existence is a ring,\n Whereof the signet is humanity.\n\n340. C. L. N. A. I. Man is the microcosm. See _Gulshan i Raz_, p. 15.\n\u00abThe captain jewel of the carcanet.\u00bb\n\n\n341.\n\n With fancies, as with wine, our heads we turn,\n Aspire to heaven, and earth's low trammels spurn;\n But, when we drop this fleshly clog, 'tis seen\n From dust we came, and back to dust return.\n\n341. L. N.\n\n\n342.\n\n If so it be that I did break the fast,\n Think not I meant it; no! I thought 'twas past;--\n That day more weary than a sleepless night,--\n And bless\u00e9d breakfast-time had come at last!\n\n342. L. N. _Roza khwardan_, \u00abto avoid fasting.\u00bb In line 2, for\n_bekhabar_ read _bakhabar_.\n\n\n343.\n\n I never drank of joy's sweet cordial,\n But grief's fell hand infused a drop of gall;\n Nor dipped my bread in pleasure's piquant salt,\n But briny sorrow made me smart withal!\n\n343. C. L. N. A. I. Line 4, literally, \u00abeat a roast of my own liver.\u00bb\n\n\n344.\n\n At dawn to tavern haunts I wend my way,\n And with distraught Kalendars pass the day;\n O Thou! who know'st things secret, and things known,\n Grant me Thy grace, that I may learn to pray!\n\n344. C. L. N. A. I. J. _Khafiyyat_ means \u00abmanifest,\u00bb as well as\n\u00abconcealed.\u00bb Lucknow commentator.\n\n\n345.\n\n The world's annoys I rate not at one grain,\n So I eat once a day I don't complain;\n And, since earth's kitchen yields no solid food,\n I pester no man with petitions vain.\n\n345. C. L. N. A. I. J. In line 3 the _Alif_ in _az_ is not treated as an\n_Alif i wasl_. Bl., Pros. 10.\n\n\n346.\n\n Never from worldly toils have I been free,\n Never for one short moment glad to be!\n I served a long apprenticeship to fate,\n But yet of fortune gained no mastery.\n\n346. C. L. N. A. I. J. _Ek dam zadan_, \u00abFor one moment.\u00bb\n\n\n347.\n\n One hand with Koran, one with wine-cup dight,\n I half incline to wrong, and half to right;\n The azure-marbled sky looks down on me\n A sorry Moslem, yet not heathen quite.\n\n347. C. L. N. A. I. J. Khayyam here describes himself as _akrates_\nrather than _akolastos_, \u00ab_Video meliora proboque_,\u00bb etc.\n\n\n348.\n\n Khayyam's respects to Mustafa convey,\n And with due reverence ask him to say,\n Why it has pleased him to forbid pure wine,\n When he allows his people acid whey?\n\n348 and 349. L. These two quatrains are also found in Whalley's\nMorababad edition. _Mustafa_, _i.e._, Muhammad. So Avicenna. See Renan,\nAverroes, 171.\n\n\n349.\n\n Tell Khayyam, for a master of the schools,\n He strangely misinterprets my plain rules:\n Where have I said that wine is wrong for all?\n 'Tis lawful for the wise, but not for fools.\n\n\n350.\n\n My critics call me a philosopher,\n But Allah knows full well they greatly err;\n I know not even what I am, much less\n Why on this earth I am a sojourner!\n\n350. C. L. A. I. J. Filsafat meant the Greek philosophy as cultivated by\nPersian rationalists, in opposition to theology. Renan, Averroes, p. 91.\n\n\n351.\n\n The more I die to self, I live the more,\n The more abase myself, the higher soar;\n And, strange! the more I drink of Being's wine,\n More sane I grow and sober than before.\n\n351. L. Clearly Mystical.\n\n\n352.\n\n Quoth rose, \u00abI am the Yusuf flower, I swear,\n For in my mouth rich golden gems I bear\u00bb:\n I said, \u00abShow me another proof.\u00bb Quoth she,\n \u00abBehold this blood-stained vesture that I wear!\u00bb\n\n352. B. L. Yusuf is the type of manly beauty. The yellow stamens are\ncompared to his teeth. So Jami, in _Yusuf wa Zulaikha_.\n\n\n353.\n\n I studied with the masters long ago,\n And long ago did master all they know;\n Here now the end and issue of it all,\n From earth I came, and like the wind I go!\n\n353. L. B. Mr. Fitzgerald compares the dying exclamation of Nizam\nul-Mulk, \u00abI am going in the hands of the wind!\u00bb _Mantik ut Tair_, 1.\n4620.\n\n\n354.\n\n Death finds us soiled, though we were pure at birth,\n With grief we go, although we came with mirth;\n Watered with tears, and burned with fires of woe,\n And, casting life to winds, we rest in earth!\n\n354. C. L. A. I. J.\n\n\n355.\n\n To find great Jamshid's world-reflecting bowl\n I compassed sea and land, and viewed the whole;\n But, when I asked the wary sage, I learned\n That bowl was my own body, and my soul!\n\n355. L. King Jamshid's cup, which reflected the whole world, is the Holy\nGrail of Persian poetry. Meaning \u00abman is the microcosm.\u00bb See note on No.\n340. In line 2 scan _naghnudem_.\n\n\n356.\n\n Me, cruel Queen! you love to captivate,\n And from a knight to a poor pawn translate,\n You marshal all your force to tire me out,\n You take my rooks with yours, and then checkmate!\n\n356. C. L. A. I. J. The pun on _rukh_, \u00abcheek,\u00bb and _rukh_, \u00abcastle,\u00bb is\nuntranslatable.\n\n\n357.\n\n If Allah wills me not to will aright,\n How can I frame my will to will aright?\n Each single act I will must needs be wrong,\n Since none but He has power to will aright.\n\n357. C. L. A. I. J.\n\n\n358.\n\n \u00abFor once, while roses are in bloom,\u00bb I said,\n \u00abI'll break the law, and please myself instead,\n With blooming youths, and maidens' tulip cheeks\n The plain shall blossom like a tulip-bed.\u00bb\n\n358. L. N. _Rozi_, _ya i batni_, or _tankir_ (?).\n\n\n359.\n\n Think not I am existent of myself,\n Or walk this blood-stained pathway of myself;\n This being is not I, it is of Him.\n Pray what, and where, and whence is this \u00abmyself\u00bb?\n\n359. C. L. A. I. J. In line 3 I omit _wa_ after _Lu bud_. Meaning, Man's\nreal existence is not of himself, but of the \u00abTruth,\u00bb the universal\n_Noumenon_.\n\n\n360.\n\n Endure this world without my wine I cannot!\n Drag on life's load without my cups I cannot!\n I am the slave of that sweet moment, when\n They say, \u00abTake one more goblet,\u00bb and I cannot!\n\n360. C. L. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n361.\n\n You, who both day and night the world pursue,\n And thoughts of that dread day of doom eschew,\n Bethink you of your latter end; be sure\n As time has treated others, so 'twill you!\n\n361. C. L. N. A. I.\n\n\n362.\n\n O man, who art creation's summary,\n Getting and spending too much trouble thee!\n Arise, and quaff the Etern Cupbearer's wine,\n And so from troubles of both worlds be free!\n\n362. C. L. N. A. I. J. So Wordsworth, \u00abThe world is too much with us,\u00bb\netc. The Sufis rejected _talab ud dunya_, \u00abworldliness,\u00bb and _talab nl\nukharat_, \u00abother-worldliness,\u00bb for _talab nl maula_, \u00abdisinterested\ngodliness.\u00bb So Madame Guyon taught \u00abHoly Indifference.\u00bb\n\n\n363.\n\n In this eternally revolving zone,\n Two lucky species of men are known;\n One knows all good and ill that are on earth,\n One neither earth's affairs, nor yet his own.\n\n363. C. L. N. A. I. J. _Taman_, \u00abentirely.\u00bb The two classes seem to be\npractical men and mystics.\n\n\n364.\n\n Make light to me the world's oppressive weight,\n And hide my failings from the people's hate,\n And grant me peace to-day, and on the morrow\n Deal with me as Thy mercy may dictate!\n\n364. C. L. N A. I. J. In line 4 scan _anchaz_.\n\n\n365.\n\n Souls that are well informed of this world's state,\n Its weal and woe with equal mind await:\n For, be it weal we meet, or be it woe,\n The weal doth pass, and woe too hath its date.\n\n365. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. 'Twill all be one a hundred years hence.\n\n\n366.\n\n Lament not fortune's want of constancy,\n But up! and seize her favours ere they flee;\n If fortune always cleaved to other men,\n How could a turn of luck have come to thee?\n\n366. C. L. N. A. I. J. This was a saying of Kisra Parviz to his Sultana.\nBicknell's Hafiz, p. 73.\n\n\n367.\n\n Chief of old friends! hearken to what I say,\n Let not heaven's treacherous wheel your heart dismay;\n But rest contented in your humble nook,\n And watch the games that wheel is wont to play.\n\n367. C. L. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n368.\n\n Hear now Khayyam's advice, and bear in mind,\n Consort with revellers, though they be maligned,\n Cast down the gates of abstinence and prayer,\n Yea, drink, and even rob, but, oh! be kind!\n\n368. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. A rather violent extension of the doctrine,\nMercy is better than sacrifice.\n\n\n369.\n\n This world a body is, and God its soul,\n And angels are its senses, who control\n Its limbs--the creatures, elements, and spheres;\n The ONE is the sole basis of the whole.\n\n369. L. N. So Pope, \u00abAll are but parts,\u00bb etc.\n\n\n370.\n\n Last night that idol who enchants my heart,\n With true desire to elevate my heart,\n Gave me his cup to drink; when I refused,\n He said, \u00abOh, drink to gratify my heart!\u00bb\n\n370. N.\n\n\n371.\n\n Would'st thou have fortune bow her neck to thee,\n Make it thy care to feed thy soul with glee;\n And hold a creed like mine, which is to drain\n The cup of wine, not that of misery.\n\n371. So the Ecclesiast, \u00abThere is nothing better for a man than that he\nshould eat, and drink, and make his soul enjoy good in his labour.\u00bb\n\n\n372.\n\n Though you survey O my enlightened friend,\n This world of vanity from end to end,\n You will discover there no other good\n Than wine and rosy cheeks, you may depend!\n\n372. N. Note _izafat_ dropped after _sahib_. Bl., Prosody, p. 14.\n\n\n373.\n\n Last night upon the river bank we lay,\n I with my wine-cup, and a maiden gay,\n So bright it shone, like pearl within its shell,\n The watchman cried, \u00abBehold the break of day!\u00bb\n\n373. N. _Nigare_. Here _ya_ may be _ya i tankir_, the _izafat_ being\ndispensed with (Lumsden, ii. 269) [?], or perhaps _ya i tausifi_ before\nthe \u00absifat\u00bb _marvzum_.\n\n\n374.\n\n Have you no shame for all the sins you do,\n Sins of omission and commission too?\n Suppose you gain the world, you can but leave it,\n You cannot carry it away with you!\n\n374. C. L. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n375.\n\n In a lone waste I saw a debauchee,\n He had no home, no faith, no heresy,\n No God, no truth, no law, no certitude;\n Where in this world is man so bold as he?\n\n375. L. N. A _beshara'_ or antinomian Sufi.\n\n\n376.\n\n Some look for truth in creeds, and forms, and rules;\n Some grope for doubts or dogmas in the schools;\n But from behind the veil a voice proclaims,\n \u00abYour road lies neither here nor there, O fools.\u00bb\n\n376. C. L. N. A. I. Truth, hidden from theologians and philosophers, is\nrevealed to mystics. See _Gulshan i Raz_, p. 11.\n\n\n377.\n\n In heaven is seen the bull we name Parwin,\n Beneath the earth another lurks unseen;\n And thus to wisdom's eyes mankind appear\n A drove of asses, two great bulls between!\n\n377. L. N. The bulls are the constellation Taurus, and that which\nsupports the earth.\n\n\n378.\n\n The people say, \u00abWhy not drink somewhat less?\n What reasons have you for such great excess?\u00bb\n First, my Love's face, second, my morning draught;\n Can there be clearer reasons, now confess?\n\n378. C. L. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n379.\n\n Had I the power great Allah to advise,\n I'd bid him sweep away this earth and skies,\n And build a better, where, unclogged and free,\n The clear soul might achieve her high emprise.\n\n379. C. L. N. A. I. J. This recalls the celebrated speech of Alphonso\nX., king of Castile.\n\n\n380.\n\n This silly sorrow-laden heart of mine\n Is ever pining for that Love of mine;\n When the Cupbearer poured the wine of love,\n With my heart's blood he filled this cup of mine!\n\n380. C. L. N. A. I. Meaning, \u00abthe wine of life, or existence, poured by\nthe Deity into all beings at creation.\u00bb See _Gulshan i Raz_, p. 80.\n\n\n381.\n\n To drain the cup, to hover round the fair,\n Can hypocritic arts with these compare?\n If all who love and drink are going wrong,\n There's many a wight of heaven may well despair!\n\n381. L. N. B.\n\n\n382.\n\n 'Tis wrong with gloomy thoughts your mirth to drown,--\n To let grief's millstone weigh your spirits down;\n Since none can tell what is to be, 'tis best\n With wine and love your heart's desires to crown.\n\n382. C. L. N. A. B. I. J.\n\n\n383.\n\n 'Tis well in reputation to abide,\n 'Tis shameful against heaven to rail and chide;\n Still, head had better ache with over drink,\n Than be puffed up with Pharisaic pride!\n\n383. C. L. N. A. I. J. Compare \u00abTartufe,\u00bb i. 6.\n\n\n384.\n\n O Lord! pity this prisoned heart, I pray,\n Pity this bosom stricken with dismay!\n Pardon these hands that ever grasp the cup,\n These feet that to the tavern ever stray!\n\n384. N.\n\n\n385.\n\n O Lord! from self-conceit deliver me,\n Sever from self, and occupy with Thee!\n This self is captive to earth's good and ill,\n Make me beside myself, and set me free!\n\n385. C. L. N. A. I. J. A Mystic's prayer.\n\n\n386.\n\n Behold the tricks this wheeling dome doth play,\n And earth laid bare of old friends torn away!\n O live this present moment, which is thine,\n Seek not a morrow, mourn not yesterday!\n\n386. L. B. An odd expression.\n\n\n387.\n\n Since all man's business in this world of woe\n Is sorrow's pangs to feel, and grief to know,\n Happy are they that never come at all,\n And they that, having come, the soonest go!\n\n387. C. L. A. B. I. J. Compare the chorus in the \u00abOedipus Coloneus.\u00bb\n\n\n388.\n\n By reason's dictates it is right to live,\n But of ourselves we know not how to live,\n So Fortune, like a master, rod in hand,\n Raps our pates well to teach us how to live!\n\n388. L. Fortune's buffets.\n\n\n389.\n\n Nor you nor I can read the etern decree,\n To that enigma we can find no key;\n They talk of you and me _behind_ the veil,\n But, if that veil be lifted, where are _we_?\n\n389. C. L. A. I. J. Meaning, We are part of the \u00abveil\u00bb of phenomena,\nwhich hides the Divine Noumenon. If that be swept away what becomes of\nus?\n\n\n390.\n\n O Love, for ever doth heaven's wheel design\n To take away thy precious life, and mine;\n Sit we upon this turf, 'twill not be long\n Ere turf shall grow upon my dust, and thine!\n\n390. L. N. B.\n\n\n391.\n\n When life has fled, and we rest in the tomb,\n They'll place a pair of bricks to mark our tomb;\n And, a while after, mould our dust to bricks,\n To furnish forth some other person's tomb!\n\n391. L. N. A. I.\n\n\n392.\n\n Yon palace, towering to the welkin blue,\n Where kings did bow them down, and homage do,\n I saw a ringdove on its arches perched,\n And thus she made complaint, \u00abCoo, Coo, Coo, Coo!\u00bb\n\n392. C. L. N. A. I. J. Mr. Binning found this quatrain inscribed on the\nruins of Persepolis--Fitzgerald. Coo (_Ku_) means \u00abWhere are they?\u00bb\n\n\n393.\n\n We come and go, but for the gain, where is it?\n And spin life's woof, but for the warp, where is it?\n And many a righteous man has burned to dust\n In heaven's blue rondure, but their smoke, where is it?\n\n393. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. So Ecclesiastes, \u00abThere is no remembrance of\nthe wise, more than of the fool.\u00bb \u00abSmoke,\u00bb _i.e._, trace.\n\n\n394.\n\n Life's well-spring lurks within that lip of thine!\n Let not the cup's lip touch that lip of thine!\n Beshrew me, if I fail to drink his blood,\n For who is he, to touch that lip of thine?\n\n394. C. L. N. A. I. J. To a sweetheart.\n\n\n395.\n\n Such as I am, Thy power created me,\n Thy care hath kept me for a century!\n Through all these years I make experiment,\n If my sins or Thy mercy greater be.\n\n395. C. L. N. A. I. J. God's long-suffering.\n\n\n396.\n\n \u00abTake up thy cup and goblet, Love,\u00bb I said,\n \u00abHaunt purling river bank, and grassy glade;\n Full many a moon-like form has heaven's weel\n Oft into cup, oft into goblet, made!\u00bb\n\n396. C. L. N. A. B. I. J.\n\n\n397.\n\n We buy new wine and old, our cups to fill,\n And sell for two grains this world's good and ill;\n Know you where you will go to after death?\n Set wine before me, and go where you will!\n\n397. L. N. and J. give lines 1 and 2 differently.\n\n\n398.\n\n Was e'er man born who never went astray?\n Did ever mortal pass a sinless day?\n If I do ill, do not requite with ill!\n Evil for evil how can'st Thou repay?\n\n398. L. N. Line 3 and 4 are paraphrased somewhat freely.\n\n\n399.\n\n Bring forth that ruby gem of Badakhshan,\n That heart's delight, that balm of Turkistan;\n They say 'tis wrong for Musulmen to drink,\n But ah! where can we find a Musulman?\n\n399. C. L. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n400.\n\n My body's life and strength proceed from Thee!\n My soul within and spirit are of Thee!\n My being is of Thee, and Thou art mine,\n And I am Thine, since I am lost in Thee!\n\n400. L. \u00abIn him we live and move, and have our being.\u00bb\n\n\n401.\n\n Man, like a ball, hither and thither goes,\n As fate's resistless bat directs the blows;\n But He, who gives thee up to this rude sport,\n He knows what drives thee, yea, He knows, He knows!\n\n401. C. L. A. I. J. Line 4 is in metre 22, consisting of ten syllables,\nall long.\n\n\n402.\n\n O Thou who givest sight to emmet's eyes,\n And strength to puny limbs of feeble flies,\n To Thee we will ascribe Almighty power,\n And not base, unbecoming qualities.\n\n402. L. An echo of the Asharian's discussions on the Divine attributes.\n\n\n403.\n\n Let not base avarice enslave thy mind,\n Nor vain ambition in its trammels bind;\n Be sharp as fire, as running water swift,\n Not, like earth's dust, the sport of every wind!\n\n403. L. C. A. I. J.\n\n\n404.\n\n 'Tis best all other blessings to forego\n For wine, that charming Turki maids bestow;\n Kalendars' raptures pass all things that are,\n From moon on high down into fish below!\n\n404. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. For _mah_ L. reads _hahk_ probably a Sufi\ngloss. Kalendars, bibulous Sufis. Fish, that whereon the earth was said\nto rest.\n\n\n405.\n\n Friend! trouble not yourself about your lot,\n Let futile care and sorrow be forgot;\n Since this life's vesture crumbles into dust,\n What matters stain of word or deed, or blot?\n\n405. L. N.\n\n\n406.\n\n O thou who hast done ill, and ill alone,\n And thinkest to find mercy at the throne,\n Hope not for mercy! for good left undone\n Cannot be done, nor evil done undone!\n\n406. N. A. I. This quatrain is by Abu Sa'id Abu'l Khair; and is an\nanswer to No. 420, which is attributed to Avicenna.\n\n\n407.\n\n Count not to live beyond your sixtieth year,\n To walk in jovial courses persevere;\n And ere your skull be turned into a cup,\n Let wine-cups ever to your hand adhere!\n\n407. L. N. B.\n\n\n408.\n\n These heavens resemble an inverted cup,\n Whereto the wise with awe keep gazing up;\n So stoops the bottle o'er his love, the cup,\n Feigning to kiss, and gives her blood to sup!\n\n408. C. L. N. A. B. I. Blood, an emblem of hate.\n\n\n409.\n\n I sweep the tavern threshold with my hair,\n For both world's good and ill I take no care;\n Should the two worlds roll to my house, like balls,\n When drunk, for one small coin I'd sell the pair!\n\n409. L. N. B.\n\n\n410.\n\n The drop wept for his severance from the sea,\n But the sea smiled, for \u00abI am all,\u00bb said he,\n \u00abThe Truth is all, nothing exists beside,\n That one point circling apes plurality.\u00bb\n\n410. N. This is in Ramal metre, No. 50. Compare _Gulshan i Raz_, line\n710.\n\n\n411.\n\n Shall I still sigh for what I have not got,\n Or try with cheerfulness to bear my lot?\n Fill up my cup! I know not if the breath\n I now am drawing is my last, or not!\n\n411. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. Some MSS. place this quatrain under _Radif\nya_.\n\n\n412.\n\n Yield not to grief, though fortune prove unkind,\n Nor call sad thoughts of parted friends to mind;\n Devote thy heart to sugary lips, and wine,\n Cast not thy precious life unto the wind!\n\n412. L. N. B.\n\n\n413.\n\n Of mosque and prayer and fast preach not to me,\n Rather go drink, were it on charity!\n Yea, drink, Khayyam, your dust will soon be made\n A jug, or pitcher, or a cup, may be!\n\n413. N. \u00abImperial C\u00e6sar, dead, and turned to clay Might stop a hole to\nkeep the wind away.\u00bb\n\n\n414.\n\n Bulbuls, doting on roses, oft complain\n How forward breezes rend their veils in twain;\n Sit we beneath this rose, which many a time\n Has sunk to earth, and sprung from earth again.\n\n414. L. N. B. So Moschus on the mallows.\n\n\n415.\n\n Suppose the world goes well with you, what then?\n When life's last page is read and turned, what then?\n Suppose you live a hundred years of bliss,\n Yea, and a hundred years besides, what then?\n\n415. C. L. N A. I. J. See Vullers, p. 100.\n\n\n416.\n\n How is it that of all the leafy tribe,\n Cypress and lily men as \u00abfree\u00bb describe?\n This has a dozen tongues, yet holds her peace,\n That has a hundred hands which take no bribe.\n\n416. L. N. Sa'di in the _Gulistan_, Book viii., gives another\nexplanation of this expression. \u00abTongues, stamens, and hands, branches.\u00bb\n\n\n417.\n\n Cupbearer, bring my wine-cup, let me grasp it!\n Bring that delicious darling, let me grasp it!\n That pleasing chain which tangles in its coils\n Wise men and fools together, let me grasp it!\n\n417. L. N. _Bipechand_ seems a plural of dignity.\n\n\n418.\n\n Alas! my wasted life has gone to wrack!\n What with forbidden meats, and lusts, alack!\n And leaving undone what 'twas right to do,\n And doing wrong, my face is very black!\n\n418. C. L. N. A. I. These whimsical outbursts of self-reproach in the\nmidst of antinomian utterances are characteristic of Khayyam.\n\n\n419.\n\n I could repent of all, but of wine, never!\n I could dispense with all, but with wine, never!\n If so be I became a Musulman,\n Could I abjure my Magian wine? no, never!\n\n419. L. N. The Magians sold wine.\n\n\n420.\n\n We rest our hopes on Thy free grace alone,\n Nor seek by merits for our sins to atone;\n Mercy drops where it lists, and estimates\n Ill done as undone, good undone as done.\n\n420. L. N. A. I. This quatrain is also ascribed to the celebrated\nphilosopher Avicenna. See No. 406.\n\n\n421.\n\n This is the form Thou gavest me of old,\n Wherein Thou workest marvels manifold;\n Can I aspire to be a better man,\n Or other than I issued from Thy mould?\n\n421. C. L. N. A. I. This is a variation of No. 221.\n\n\n422.\n\n O Lord! to Thee all creatures worship pay,\n To Thee both small and great for ever pray,\n Thou takest woe away, and givest weal,\n Give then, or, if it please Thee, take away!\n\n422. L. Scan _bandagita_, omitting _fatha_ before _te_. Vullers, p. 197.\n\n\n423.\n\n With going to and fro in this sad vale\n Thou art grown double, and thy credit stale,\n Thy nails are thickened like a horse's hoof,\n Thy beard is ragged as an ass's tail.\n\n423. C. L. A. I. J. A description of old age.\n\n\n424.\n\n O unenlightened race of humankind,\n Ye are a nothing, built on empty wind!\n Yea, a mere nothing, hovering in the abyss,\n A void before you, and a void behind!\n\n424. C. L. A. I. J. The technical name for existence between two\nnon-existences is _Takwin_. Bl. _Ain i Akbari_, p. 198. Compare the term\n\u00ab_nunc stans_,\u00bb applied to Time by the Schoolmen.\n\n\n425.\n\n Each morn I say, \u00abTo-night I will repent\n Of wine, and tavern haunts no more frequent\u00bb;\n But while 'tis spring, and roses are in bloom,\n To loose me from my promise, O consent!\n\n425. C. L. A. I. J.\n\n\n426.\n\n Vain study of philosophy eschew!\n Rather let tangled curls attract your view;\n And shed the bottle's life-blood in your cup,\n Or e'er death shed your blood, and feast on you.\n\n426. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. _Bigorezi bi_, \u00abbetter that you should\neschew.\u00bb\n\n\n427.\n\n O heart! can'st thou the darksome riddle read,\n Where wisest men have failed, wilt thou succeed?\n Quaff wine, and make thy heaven here below,\n Who knows if heaven above will be thy meed?\n\n427. C. L. N. A. B. I. J.\n\n\n428.\n\n They that have passed away, and gone before,\n Sleep in delusion's dust for evermore;\n Go, boy, and fetch some wine, this is the truth,\n Their dogmas were but air, and wind their lore!\n\n428. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. So Ecclesiastes, \u00abI gave my heart to know\nwisdom ... and perceived that this also is vanity.\u00bb\n\n\n429.\n\n O heart! when on the Loved One's sweets you feed,\n You lose yourself, but find your Self indeed;\n And, when you drink of His entrancing cup,\n You hasten your escape from quick and dead!\n\n429. C. L. N. A. I. J. Die to self, to live in God, your true self. See\nMax M\u00fcller, Hibbert Lectures, p. 375.\n\n\n430.\n\n Though I am wont a wine-bibber to be,\n Why should the people rail and chide at me?\n Would that all evil actions made men drunk,\n For then no sober people should I see!\n\n430. C. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n431.\n\n Child of four elements and sevenfold heaven,\n Who fume and sweat because of these eleven,\n Drink! I have told you seventy times and seven,\n Once gone, nor hell will send you back, nor heaven.\n\n431. C. L. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n432.\n\n With many a snare Thou dost beset my way,\n And threatenest, if I fall therein, to slay;\n Thy rule resistless sways the world, yet Thou\n Imputest sin, when I do but obey!\n\n432. B. N. Allah is the _Fa'il i hakiki_, the only real agent, according\nto the Sufi view, _Hukmi tu Kuni_, \u00abThou givest thy order.\u00bb\n\n\n433.\n\n To Thee, whose essence baffles human thought,\n Our sins and righteous deeds alike seem naught,\n May Thy grace sober me, though drunk with sins,\n And pardon all the ill that I have wrought!\n\n433. L. N.\n\n\n434.\n\n If this life were indeed an empty play,\n Each day would be an _'lid_ of festal day,\n And men might conquer all their hearts' desire,\n Fearless of after penalties to pay!\n\n434. N. N takes _taklid_ in the sense of \u00abauthority,\u00bb but I think it\nalludes to Koran, xxix. 64. See _Gulshan i Raz_, p. 50.\n\n\n435.\n\n O wheel of heaven, you thwart my heart's desire,\n And rend to shreds my scanty joy's attire,\n The water that I drink you foul with earth,\n And turn the very air I breathe to fire!\n\n435. C. L. N. A. I.\n\n\n436.\n\n O soul! could you but doff this flesh and bone,\n You'd soar a sprite about the heavenly throne;\n Had you no shame to leave your starry home,\n And dwell an alien on this earthly zone?\n\n436. C. L. N. B. A. I.\n\n\n437.\n\n Ah, potter, stay thine hand' with ruthless art\n Put not to such base use man's mortal part!\n See, thou art mangling on thy cruel wheel\n Faridun's fingers, and Kai Khosrau's heart!\n\n437. C. L. N. A. I. Faridun and Kai Khosrau were ancient kings of\nPersia. Kai Khosrau is usually identified with Cyrus.\n\n\n438.\n\n O rose! all beauties' charms thou dost excel,\n As wine excels the pearl within its shell;\n O fortune! thou dost ever show thyself\n More strange, although I seem to know thee well!\n\n438. N. _Mimani_, You resemble.\n\n\n439.\n\n From this world's kitchen crave not to obtain\n Those dainties, seeming real, but really vain,\n Which greedy worldlings gorge to their own loss;\n Renounce that loss, so loss shall prove thy gain!\n\n439. L. N. B.\n\n\n440.\n\n Plot not of nights, thy fellows' peace to blight,\n So that they cry to God the live-long night;\n Nor plume thee on thy wealth and might, which thieves\n May steal by night, or death, or fortune's might.\n\n440. N. _Ta bar nikashand_, \u00abLet us abstain from oppressing people, so\nthat they may not heave a sigh, saying, O Lord.\u00bb\n\n\n441.\n\n This soul of mine was once Thy cherished bride,\n What caused Thee to divorce her from Thy side?\n Thou didst not use to treat her thus of yore,\n Why then now doom her in the world to abide?\n\n441. L. N.\n\n\n442.\n\n Ah! would there were a place of rest from pain,\n Which we, poor pilgrims, might at last attain,\n And after many thousand wintry years,\n Renew our life, like flowers, and bloom again!\n\n442. C. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n443.\n\n While in love's book I sought an augury;\n An ardent youth cried out in ecstasy,\n \u00abWho owns a sweetheart beauteous as the moon,\n Might wish his moments long as years to be!\u00bb\n\n443. C. L. N. A. I. Compare the \u00ab_sortes Virgilian\u00e6._\u00bb Line 4 is freely\nparaphrased.\n\n\n444.\n\n Winter is past, and spring-tide has begun,\n Soon will the pages of life's book be done!\n Well saith the sage, \u00abLife is a poison rank,\n And antidote, save grape-juice, there is none.\u00bb\n\n444. C. L. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n445.\n\n Beloved, if thou a reverend Molla be,\n Quit saintly show, and feigned austerity,\n And quaff the wine that Murtaza purveys,\n And sport with Houris 'neath some shady tree!\n\n445. N. Note the change from the imperative to the aorist. In line 4\nscan _Murtazasha_. _Murtaza_ (Ali) is the celestial cupbearer.\n\n\n446.\n\n Last night I dashed my cup against a stone,\n In a mad drunken freak, as I must own,\n And lo! the cup cries out in agony,\n \u00abYou too, like me, shall soon be overthrown.\u00bb\n\n446. C. L. N. A. B. I. _Saboyiy, ya i batni_, joined to the noun by\neuphonic or conjunctive _ya_.\n\n\n447.\n\n My heart is weary of hypocrisy,\n Cupbearer, bring some wine, I beg of thee!\n This hooded cowl and prayer-mat pawn for wine,\n Then will I boast me in security.\n\n447. N.\n\n\n448.\n\n Audit yourself, your truce account to frame,\n See! you go empty, as you empty came;\n You say, \u00abI will not drink and peril life,\u00bb\n But, drink or no, you must die all the same!\n\n448. C. L. N. A. I.\n\n\n449.\n\n Open the door! O entrance who procurest,\n And guide the way, O Thou of guides the surest!\n Directors born of men shall not direct me,\n Their counsel comes to naught, but Thou endurest!\n\n\n450.\n\n In slandering and reviling you persist,\n Calling me infidel and atheist:\n My errors I will not deny, but yet\n Does foul abuse become a moralist?\n\n450. C. L. N. A. I. In line 1 scan _goyi-yaz_, Bl., Prosody, p. 10. The\n_tashdid_ of _mukin_ is dropped.\n\n\n451.\n\n To find a remedy, put up with pain,\n Chafe not at woe, and healing thou wilt gain;\n Though poor, be ever of a thankful mind,\n 'Tis the sure method riches to obtain.\n\n451. L. N. _Dawayiy_. The first _ya_ is the conjunctive _ya_ (Vullers,\np. 16), the second _ya i tankir_.\n\n\n452.\n\n Give me a skin of wine, a crust of bread\n A pittance bare, a book of verse to read;\n With thee, O love, to share my lowly roof,\n I would not take the Sultan's realm instead!\n\n452. N. B. _Tange_, the _izafat_ is displaced by _ya i tankir_,\naccording to Lumsden, ii. 269.\n\n\n453.\n\n Reason not of the five, nor of the four,\n Be their dark problems one, or many score;\n We are but earth, go, minstrel, bring the lute,\n We are but air, bring wine, I ask no more!\n\n453. N. C. L. A. I. J. give only the first line of this. Five senses,\nfour elements.\n\n\n454.\n\n Why argue on Yasin and on Barat?\n Write me the draft for wine they call Barat!\n The day my weariness is drowned in wine\n Will seem to me as the great night Barat!\n\n454. C. L. N. A. I. J. _Yasin_ is the 64th, and Barat the 9th, chapter\nof the Koran. _Barat_, the \u00abnight of power.\u00bb\n\n\n455.\n\n Whilst thou dost wear this fleshy livery,\n Step not beyond the bounds of destiny;\n Bear up, though very Rustums be thy foes,\n And crave no boon from friends like Hatim Tai!\n\n455. C. L. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n456.\n\n These ruby lips, and wine, and minstrel boys,\n And lute, and harp, your dearly cherished toys,\n Are mere redundancies, and you are naught,\n Till you renounce the world's delusive joys.\n\n456. L. N. _Hashw_, mere \u00abstuffing,\u00bb leather and prunella.\n\n\n457.\n\n Bow down, heaven's tyranny to undergo,\n Quaff wine to face the world, and all its woe;\n Your origin and end are both in earth,\n But now you are _above_ earth, not _below_!\n\n457. C. L. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n458.\n\n You know all secrets of this earthly sphere,\n Why then remain a prey to empty fear?\n You cannot bend things to your will, but yet\n Cheer up for the few moments you are here!\n\n458. C. L. N. A. I. J. Scan _chim wakifiyay_.\n\n\n459.\n\n Behold, where'er we turn our ravished eyes,\n Sweet verdure springs, and crystal Kausars rise;\n And plains, once bare as hell, now smile as heaven:\n Enjoy this heaven with maids of Paradise!\n\n459. C. L. N. A. B. I. J.\n\n\n460.\n\n Never in this false world on friends rely\n (I give this counsel confidentially),\n Put up with pain, and seek no antidote,\n Endure your grief, and ask no sympathy!\n\n460. N.\n\n\n461.\n\n Of wisdom's dictates two are principal,\n Surpassing all your lore traditional;\n Better to fast than eat of every meat,\n Better to live alone than mate with all!\n\n461. N. _Hadis i na goyayiy._ The unwritten revelations, or traditions,\nopposed to _Qur'an_ (Koran), the \u00abreading.\u00bb So _sruti_ is opposed to\n_smriti_.\n\n\n462.\n\n Why unripe grapes are sharp, prithee explain,\n And then grow sweet, while wine is sharp again?\n When one has carved a block into a lute,\n Can he from that same block a pipe obtain?\n\n462. L. N.\n\n\n463.\n\n When dawn doth silver the dark firmament,\n Why shrills the bird of dawning his lament?\n It is to show in dawn's bright looking-glass\n How of thy careless life a night is spent.\n\n463. C. L. N. A. I. J. So Job, \u00abHast spread the sky as a molten\nlooking-glass.\u00bb\n\n\n464.\n\n Cupbearer, come! from thy full-throated ewer\n Pour blood-red wine, the world's despite to cure!\n Where can I find another friend like wine,\n So genuine, so solacing, so pure?\n\n464. C. L. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n465.\n\n Though you should sit in sage Aristo's room,\n Or rival C\u00e6sar on his throne of Rum,\n Drain Jemshid's goblet, for your end's the tomb,\n Yea, were you Bahram's self, your end's the tomb!\n\n465. N. _Jamhur_, a name of Buzurjimihr, _Wazir_ of Nushirwan.\n_Faghfur_, the Chinese emperor.\n\n\n466.\n\n It chanced into a potter's shop I strayed,\n He turned his wheel and deftly plied his trade,\n And out of monarchs' heads, and beggars' feet,\n Fair heads and handles for his pitchers made!\n\n466. C. N. L. A. I. J. _Paya_, \u00abthe treadle.\u00bb\n\n\n467.\n\n If you have sense, true senselessness attain,\n And the Etern Cupbearer's goblet drain,\n If not, true senselessness is not for you,\n Not every fool true senselessness can gain!\n\n467. L. N. Meaning, the \u00abtruly Mystical darkness of ignorance.\u00bb See\n_Gulshan i Raz_, p. 13.\n\n\n468.\n\n O Love! before you pass death's portal through,\n And potters make their jugs of me and you,\n Pour from this jug some wine, of headache void,\n And fill your cup, and fill my goblet too!\n\n468. C. L. N. A. I. J. Headache, in allusion to the wine of Paradise,\nKoran, lvi. 17.\n\n\n469.\n\n O Love! while yet you can, with tender art,\n Lift sorrow's burden from your lover's heart;\n Your wealth of graces will not always last,\n But slip from your possession, and depart!\n\n469. C. L. N. A. I. J. Some MSS. read _zinhar_ for _zihar_, either will\nscan.\n\n\n470.\n\n Bestir thee, ere death's cup for thee shall flow,\n And blows of ruthless fortune lay thee low;\n Acquire some substance _here_, there is none _there_,\n For those who thither empty-handed go!\n\n470. L. N. Line 2 is in metre 4. Meaning, \u00abWork while it is day.\u00bb\n\n\n471.\n\n Who framed the lots of quick and dead but Thou?\n Who turns the troublous wheel of heaven but Thou?\n Though we are sinful slaves, is it for Thee\n To blame us? Who created us but Thou?\n\n471. L. N. A. I.\n\n\n472.\n\n O wine, most limpid, pure, and crystalline,\n Would I could drench this silly frame of mine\n With thee, that passers by might think 'twas thou,\n And cry, \u00abWhence comest thou, fair master wine?\u00bb\n\n472. L. N.\n\n\n473.\n\n A Shaikh beheld a harlot, and quoth he,\n \u00abYou seem a slave to drink and lechery\u00bb;\n And she made answer, \u00abWhat I seem I am,\n But, Master, are you all you seem to be?\u00bb\n\n473. L. N. The technical name of quatrains like this is _suwal o jawab_,\nor _muraja'at_. Gladwin, Persian Rhetoric, p. 40.\n\n\n474.\n\n If, like a ball, earth to my house were borne,\n When drunk, I'd rate it at a barley-corn;\n Last night they offered me in pawn for wine,\n But the rude vintner laughed that pledge to scorn.\n\n474. C. L. N. A. I. J. Note the _yas i tankir_ in _Kuye_, _juye_, and\n_giraye_.\n\n\n475.\n\n Now in thick clouds Thy face Thou dost immerse,\n And now display it in this universe;\n Thou the spectator, Thou the spectacle,\n Sole to Thyself Thy glories dost rehearse.\n\n475. C. L. N. A. I. J. Compare the Vulgate, \u00ab_ludens in orbe terrarum_,\u00bb\nand _Gulshan i Raz_, p. 14.\n\n\n476.\n\n Better to make one soul rejoice with glee,\n Than plant a desert with a colony;\n Rather one freeman bind with chains of love,\n Than set a thousand prisoned captives free!\n\n476. L.N.\n\n\n477.\n\n O thou who for thy pleasure dost impart\n A pang of sorrow to thy fellow's heart,\n Go! mourn thy perished wit, and peace of mind,\n Thyself hast slain them, like the fool thou art!\n\n477. C. L. N A. I. J.\n\n\n478.\n\n Wherever you can get two maunds of wine,\n Set to, and drink it like a libertine;\n Whoso acts thus will set his spirit free\n From saintly airs like yours, and grief like mine.\n\n478. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. _Chu mane_, \u00abof one like me.\u00bb So in No. 170\n(the note which is wrong). Vullers, p. 254. Literally, \u00abmustaches and\nbeards.\u00bb\n\n479.\n\n So long as I possess two maunds of wine,\n Bread of the flower of wheat, and mutton chine,\n And you, O Tulip cheek, to share my hut,\n Not every Sultan's lot can vie with mine.\n\n479. C. L. N. A. B. I.\n\n\n480.\n\n They call you wicked, if to fame you're known,\n And an intriguer, if you live alone,\n Trust me, though you were Khizr or Elias,\n 'Tis best to know none, and of none be known.\n\n480. C. N. I.\n\n\n481.\n\n Yes! here am I with wine and feres again!\n I did repent, but, ah! 'twas all in vain;\n Preach not to me of Noah and his flood,\n But pour a flood of wine to drown my pain!\n\n481. C. L. N. A. I. J. _Tauba i Nassuh_, a repentance not to be repented\nof. Nicolas. In line 2 note the _izafat_ dropped after silent _he_.\n\n\n482.\n\n For union with my love I sigh in vain,\n The pangs of absence I can scarce sustain,\n My grief I dare not tell to any friend;\n O trouble strange, sweet passion, bitter pain!\n\n482. N. These quatrains are called _firakiya_, and are rare in Khayyam.\n\n\n483.\n\n 'Tis dawn! I hear the loud Muezzin's call,\n And here am I before the vintner's hall;\n This is no time of piety. Be still!\n And drop your talk and airs devotional!\n\n483. C. L. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n484.\n\n Angel of joyful foot! the dawn is nigh;\n Pour wine, and lift your tuneful voice on high,\n Sing how Jemshids and Khosraus bit the dust,\n Whelmed by the rolling months, from Tir to Dai!\n\n484. C. L. N. A. I. _Tir_ and _Dai_, April and December.\n\n\n485.\n\n Frown not at revellers, I beg of thee,\n For all thou keepest righteous company;\n But drink, for, drink or no, 'tis all the same,\n If doomed to hell, no heaven thou'lt ever see.\n\n485. C. L. N. A. I. J. Koran, xvi. 38: \u00abSome of them there were, whom\nAllah guided, and there were others doomed to err.\u00bb\n\n\n486.\n\n I wish that Allah would rebuild these skies,\n And earth, and that at once, before my eyes,\n And either raze my name from off his roll,\n Or else relieve my dire necessities!\n\n486. N. This rather sins against Horace's canon, \u00ab_Nec Deus intersit_,\u00bb\netc.\n\n\n487.\n\n Lord! make thy bounty's cup for me to flow,\n And bread unbegged for day by day bestow;\n Yea, with thy wine make me beside myself.\n No more to feel the headache of my woe!\n\n487. C. L. N. A. I. J.\n\n\n488.\n\n Omar! of burning heart, perchance to burn\n In hell, and feed its bale-fires in thy turn,\n Presume not to teach Allah clemency,\n For who art thou to teach, or He to learn?\n\n488. C. L. N. A. I. J. The Persian preface states that, after his death,\nOmar appeared to his mother in a dream, and repeated this quatrain to\nher. For the last line I am indebted to Mr. Fitzgerald.\n\n\n489.\n\n Cheer up! your lot was settled yesterday!\n Heedless of all that you might do or say,\n Without so much as \u00abBy your leave\u00bb they fixed\n Your lot for all the morrows yesterday!\n\n489. C. L. A. B. I. Predestination.\n\n\n490.\n\n I never would have come, had I been asked,\n I would as lief not go, if I were asked,\n And, to be short, I would annihilate\n All coming, being, going, were I asked!\n\n490. C. L. N. (in part) A. B. I. J. So the Ecclesiast, \u00abTherefore I\nhated life,\u00bb etc.\n\n\n491.\n\n Man is a cup, his soul the wine therein,\n Flesh is a pipe, spirit the voice within;\n O Khayyam, have you fathomed what man is?\n A magic lantern with a light therein!\n\n\n492.\n\n O skyey wheel, all base men you supply\n With baths, mills, and canals that run not dry,\n While good men have to pawn their goods for bread:\n Pray, who would give a fig for such a sky?\n\n492. B. L. In line 3 I read _nih and_ for _nihand_, which will not scan.\nLine 4 is slightly paraphrased.\n\n\n493.\n\n A potter at his work I chanced to see,\n Pounding some earth and shreds of pottery;\n I looked with eyes of insight, and methought\n 'Twas Adam's dust with which he made so free!\n\n493. C. L. A. I. J. Note the arrangement of the prepositions _bar_ . .\n_bazer_. Bl., Prosody, xiii.\n\n\n494.\n\n The Saki knows my _genus properly_,\n To all woe's _species_ he holds a key,\n Whene'er my _mood_ is sad, he brings me wine,\n And that makes all the _difference_ to me!\n\n494. C. L. A. I. A play on terms of Logic.\n\n\n495.\n\n Dame Fortune! all your acts and deeds confess\n That you are foul oppression's votaress;\n You cherish bad men, and annoy the good;\n Is this from dotage, or sheer foolishness?\n\n495. C. L. A. I. J. _Mu'takif_, a devotee.\n\n\n496.\n\n You, who in carnal lusts your time employ,\n Wearing your precious spirit with annoy,\n Know that these things you set your heart upon\n Sooner or later must the soul destroy!\n\n\n497.\n\n Hear from the spirit world this mystery:\n Creation is summed up, O man, in thee;\n Angel and demon, man and beast art thou,\n Yea, thou _art_ all thou dost _appear_ to be!\n\n497. L. Man, the microcosm. Line 2 is one syllable short.\n\n\n498.\n\n If popularity you would ensue,\n Speak well of Moslem, Christian, and Jew;\n So shall you be esteemed of great and small,\n And none will venture to speak ill of you.\n\n498. L.\n\n\n499.\n\n O wheel of heaven, what have I done to you,\n That you should thus annoy me? Tell me true;\n To get a drink I have to cringe and stoop,\n And for my bread you make me beg and sue.\n\n499. L. _Abruy_, \u00abhonour.\u00bb\n\n\n500.\n\n No longer hug your grief and vain despair,\n But in this unjust world be just and fair;\n And since the issue of the world is naught,\n Think you are naught, and so shake off dull care!\n\n500. L. B. In line 3 scan _nesatiyast_.\n\n\n\n\n THE\n\n QUATRAINS OF OMAR KHAYYAM\n\n TRANSLATED INTO PROSE FROM THE\n FRENCH VERSION OF\n\n MONSIEUR J.B. NICOLAS\n\n\n\n\nTHE QUATRAINS OF KHAYYAM\n\n\nThis grand old poet, who flourished in the 11th century and who brought\ninto Khorasan the delights of the Court of the Seldjoukides, still, in\nour day, continues to charm with the pleasures of the palace of the\nKadjars at Teheran. But the difficulty, on the one hand, of translating\na writer so essentially abstract in his philosophic thought, so\nMystically foreign in his figurative expressions (too often presented in\nthe form of a repulsive materialism), and on the other, the\nembarrassment I could foresee in the correcting of proofs at so great a\ndistance from Paris, and above all the feeling of my incapacity for\nundertaking so great a work, always prevented my publishing anything up\nto the present time.\n\nOn my last journey to Paris, I met some friends eager for something new\nin the way of Oriental literature, among whom I am pleased to mention\nMadam Blanchecotte, moralist and poet, known through her many witty and\nimpassioned publications. After having listened to the brief quotations\nwhich I was able to cite to them from the quatrains of the poet with\nwhom we are now occupied, they so strongly urged me to publish a\ncomplete translation, and put so much emphasis on their demand and so\nmuch kindness in their offers of service, that I decided to conform to\ntheir desires in editing this work to-day.\n\nI should, however, still have considered it beyond my powers, without\nthe co-operation of Hassan-Ali-Khan, minister plenipotentiary from\nPersia at the Court of the Tuileries, who put himself out to aid me with\nhis profound erudition and valuable advice.\n\nThe history of Khayyam, bound to that of two persons who played a great\nr\u00f4le in the annals of the country, is, I believe, of sufficient\ninterest to warrant my telling it here as it has been transmitted to us\nby the Persian historians.\n\nKhayyam, born in a village situated near Nishapur, in Khorasan, went to\ncomplete his studies at the celebrated _medresseh_ of that city, towards\nthe end of the year 1042 of the Christian era. Accounts tell us that\nthis college had acquired at that time the reputation of producing\npupils of rare distinction, from among whom men of talent and remarkable\nskill often sprung up and rapidly attained to the highest positions in\nthe empire.\n\nAbdul-Kassem and Hassan-Sebbah, fellow-students with Khayyam, were the\ntwo comrades to whom he was especially attached, notwithstanding a\ndivergence of character and opinion which would seem to indicate in him\nanother choice. One day Khayyam asked his two friends, in a jesting\nmanner, if a compact entered into among them, and based upon absolute\nnecessity, for that one of the three whom Fortune most favored to come\nto the aid of the other two, heaping benefits upon them, would appear to\nthem a childish thing. \u00abNo, no,\u00bb answered they, \u00abthe idea is excellent\nand we will adopt it with all eagerness.\u00bb Immediately the three friends\nclasped hands and vowed that when the time came they would be faithful\nto their agreement. This pact but stimulated the emulation of the three\nyoung people. They applied themselves to their studies with more ardor\neven than was demanded of them, since in accordance with the tradition\nof the college, the high places belong to those who merit them.\n\nKhayyam, of a sweet and modest nature, was rather given to the\ncontemplation of divine things than to the pleasures of worldly life.\nThis tendency and the kind of study he cultivated made of him a Mystic\npoet, a philosopher at once skeptical and fatalistic, a Sufi--in a word,\nwhat most Oriental poets are.\n\nAbdul-Kassem, on the contrary, ambitious and positive in the full\nacceptation of the word, anxious to come into power, applied himself\nprincipally to the study of the history of his country, which presented\nto him numerous examples of celebrated men who, by their merit and\ncourage, had come into the highest offices, and where, besides, he found\nexcellent lessons in all branches of administration. He became an\nillustrious statesman. As for Hassan-Sebbah, as ambitious as his\nfellow-student Abdul-Kassem, but less skilful, and more violent than he\nin the application of means, artful and jealous of the superiority of\nhis comrades, he followed somewhere nearly the same studies, holding\never to the purpose of serving himself by the ruin of all those who\ndared to oppose his advancement in the career he had chosen. He also\nbecame celebrated, as will be shown farther on in this preface, through\nthe cruelties he committed and the blood he spilled.\n\nTheir studies ended, the three friends left college and separated to\nreturn to their own homes, where they remained a certain length of time\nwithout renown. Abdul-Kassem, however, was not long in making himself\nadvantageously known at the Court of Alp-Arslan, the second king of the\ndynasty of the Seldjoukides, through divers writings on the subject of\nadministration, and soon became the private secretary of that monarch,\nthen under-secretary of State, and finally Prime Minister.\n\nAlp-Arslan, in putting this skilful administrator at the head of affairs\nin his empire, conferred upon him the honorary title of Nizam-el-Moulk,\n\u00abRegulator of the Empire,\u00bb a title which, among the Persians, replaces\nthe name of the person to whom it is granted. The historians of that\ntime write in eulogy of this great man and, attributing to his virtues\nand his ability the success and prosperity of Alp-Arslan's reign, hold\nin profound admiration the discernment of that monarch, who knew how to\nattach to himself a minister endowed with so much skill in directing the\naffairs of his vast Principalities, which attained, under his\nadministration, the highest degree of glory of which the Persian annals\nmake mention.\n\nIt was towards that epoch, where Nizam-el-Moulk (for henceforth it is by\nthis title that we shall designate him) had arrived at the apogee of his\npower, that his two friends came to recall to him the contract\nconcluded amongst them. \u00abWhat do you demand of me?\u00bb he said to them.\n\n\u00abI only ask,\u00bb responded Khayyam, \u00abthat I may enjoy the revenues of my\nnative village. I am a Sufi and not ambitious; if you accede to my\nrequest, I could, under my paternal roof, far from the inseparable\nfetters of the things of this world, cultivate poesy, which delights my\nsoul, and peaceably contemplate the works of the Creator, which is\nacceptable to my mind.\u00bb\n\n\u00abAs for me,\u00bb said Hassan-Sebbah, \u00abI ask a place at Court.\u00bb\n\nThe minister granted everything: the young poet returned to his village,\nof which he became chief, and Hassan-Sebbah took his place at Court,\nwhere, crafty courtier that he was, he was not long in getting into the\ngood graces of the monarch. But, although he had already acquired the\nhighest distinction possible, thanks to the effective aid of\nNizam-el-Moulk, his envious and zealous mind could not accommodate\nitself to the kind of submission in which he found himself, face to face\nwith his benefactor. He immediately went to work to overturn and\nsupplant him.\n\nTo this end, he commenced to insinuate to Alp-Arslan that the royal\nfinances were not in good state, the minister having neglected the\ncollecting of taxes, and not having rendered an account upon this\nimportant subject for three years. The Prince gave ear to these\ntreacherous criticisms, and immediately Nizam-el-Moulk was sent for to\nCourt, where Alp-Arslan asked him, in presence of all the great\ndignitaries, called together for this purpose, for a complete account of\nuncollected taxes and a definite statement of all finances of State.\nNizam-el-Moulk excused himself as best he could for the delay of which\nhis Majesty complained, on the ground of certain circumstances beyond\nhis control, and promised to occupy himself seriously with the question,\nwith the aim of being able to present a complete accounting in six\nmonths' time. The Prince appeared satisfied and allowed the minister to\nretire. But he had scarcely passed the sill of the palace door when\nHassan-Sebbah, approaching the King remarked that if anything were\nneeded to prove the incapacity of the minister in a matter of this kind,\nit was to be found precisely in the extraordinary delay that he asked\nfor putting the finances of the Empire in order. This observation struck\nthe Prince, who asked the courtier making it if he wished to take charge\nof this work, and if he would engage to have it finished in a shorter\nspace of time. Upon the affirmative response of the artful Hassan, who\nonly asked for forty days for the accomplishment of the task, an order\nwas given to Nizam-el-Moulk to put the archives of the finances\nimmediately at his disposition, the _moustofis_ (writings of the Chief\nJustice) and all the details of the management. Hassan, delighted at\nfinding himself so suddenly at the head of the most important branch of\nthe administration, already considered the complete ruin of\nNizam-el-Moulk as assured. The latter, on his side, perceived, but a\nlittle too late, the imprudence he had been guilty of in placing in so\nhigh a position a man whom he ought to have known, and concerning whom\nhe should have been on his guard. However, he did not despair of\nfrustrating, scheme against scheme, the well-advanced projects of his\nambitious antagonist. Knowing by experience how corruptible the men of\nhis time were, and recognizing, too, the proverbial greediness and\nweakness of character of the confidant of Hassan-Sebbah to whom the\nlatter believed it possible to trust the work that he had undertaken\nupon the order of Alp-Arslan, he did not hesitate to furnish to one of\nhis favorites, upon whose faithfulness he knew he could count, sums\nlarge enough to be irresistible in the carrying out of the plan which he\nhad conceived.\n\nThe favorite of the minister, a safe man, accustomed to this kind of\nservice, so skilfully used this money that he was not long in winning\nthe good graces of Hassan's weak and interested confidant, and was thus\nable to furnish to his master all the information which he awaited with\nimpatience, and of which he could make good use when the right moment\nwas come. That moment was the expiration of the forty days which\nHassan-Sebbah had demanded.\n\nOn the appointed day all was ready, and Hassan seemed to triumph; but\nNizam-el-Moulk had on that very day when the voluminous record which his\nadversary had prepared was to be put before the King in official\naudience, given his favorite some final instructions which should throw\nHassan into confusion. This faithful and adroit servitor went to find\nthe confidant, whose confidence he had gained by means of gifts, and\nbegged him to show him the wonderful statement which Nizam-el-Moulk had\ndeclared could not be finished in less than six months, and his master\nhad had the skill to complete in forty days. Hassan's confidant was\noccupied at this moment, and besides, suspected nothing; he turned over\nto his friend the _defter_--the bundle of detached leaflets which formed\nthe record. He, putting to good use the distraction of the confidant,\ndetached the _defter_ and, in the twinkling of an eye, confounded the\norder of the leaves, as his master had recommended to him. Then, placing\nthe _defter_ on the carpet, he launched forth into pompous eulogy upon\nthe skill of Hassan-Sebbah and of his worthy acolyte who had so actively\nparticipated in this eminent work. Some hours afterward Alp-Arslan\nreceived in grand audience his ministers and officers of the Empire, to\nassist at the solemn presentation of the financial accounting of\nHassan-Sebbah.\n\nNizam-el-Moulk humbly kept himself in one corner of the audience hall,\nawaiting the result of his stratagem. Upon the signal of Alp-Arslan,\nHassan-Sebbah deposited at the monarch's feet a _fhrist_, a little book\n(an index), by means of which the Prince could call, in the order of the\nprovinces, for the leaflets contained in the _defter_, which\nHassan-Sebbah took from the hands of his trusted helper. At the first\ncall, Hassan sought in vain the desired leaflet. He was haunted by\ntreachery and was troubled; the rumor that this incident provoked in the\nhall, the presence of the King who was irritated at finding such\ndisorder in a compilation of this importance, added to Hassan's\nconfusion, and he was immediately forced to retire, after a severe\nreprimand on the part of Alp-Arslan. Nizam-el-Moulk was avenged; he\nrespectfully approached the King and made the observation to him that it\nwas hardly to be expected that there would be much regularity in so\nserious a work, done in such haste by incapable people.\n\nAfter this check, Hassan never again appeared at Court. History tells us\nthat he went on a voyage to Syria, where he adopted the dogmas of the\nIshmaelite sect, dogmas that he resolved to import into Persia, adding\nto them other novelties more in accordance with the opinions of the\nSufis, then very numerous in the kingdom, with the aim of forming an\narmy and becoming thus a terror to his enemies. He did, in fact, return\nto Persia, but concealed himself carefully, in order to escape the\nnotice of Nizam-el-Moulk, whose sentiments towards him he suspected. He\nwent back to his native city, Rhei, after having lived for some time at\nIspahan, where, emboldened by the facility with which he made new\nrecruits and aided by his neophytes, he formed no less a project than\nthat of making the sovereign himself tremble on his throne. At Rhei he\ndrew around him some malcontents, who did not hesitate to adopt the\ndogmas that he taught them, and who declared themselves ready to second\nhim in his designs. He then resolved to go, with a limited number of his\ndisciples, and fortify himself in the mountain of Alamout, near the city\nof Kazbin, where he commenced to make raids on the surrounding country,\nby means of which he provided for the needs of the moment and prepared\nan equipment for his little troop, which soon began to be formidable.\n\nIt was about this time that Alp-Arslan died, leaving his vast estates to\nhis son, Malek-Chah, whom he strongly recommended to confide the\nadministration to Nizam-el-Moulk, his faithful and pious minister. But\nthis minister did not long enjoy these new favors. Malek-Chah, having\nhad the weakness to lend his ear to the calumnious reports of his\nenemies, took away from him his turban and his inkstand, insignia of the\nhigh functions which he had so nobly fulfilled. This disgrace,\nfacilitating a particular vengeance, caused the death of the great\nstatesman. They found him one morning, stretched out under his tent in\nthe royal camp, assassinated by a satellite of Hassan-Sebbah. Before he\nexpired, according to the story of the chronicle, he had time to write a\npiece of verse to Malek-Chah, in which he recommended to his benevolence\nhis twelve sons, to whom, he said, he bequeathed his old and loyal\nservices.\n\nHassan-Sebbah did not the less continue his bloody excursions,\nrespecting neither rank nor sex, cutting the throats of all that came\nunder his hand, without pity. Malek-Chah, frightened, was obliged to\nsend troops to put an end to these expeditions, which made trouble and\nconfusion in the whole extent of the Empire. But Hassan's followers\nincreased daily, and soon this chief saw himself strong enough to\nrepulse the royal troops in a vigorous attack, and compel them to beat a\nretreat. After this success, Hassan put no limit to his exploits, and\nacquired such renown that nothing appeared to be able to resist him.\n\nThe death of Malek-Chah took place unexpectedly soon after that of\nNizam-el-Moulk, and Hassan, hastening to profit by some experiments of\nthe celebrated Sultan Sandjar, Malek-Chah's successor, there were\nincessant wars in the different branches of the House of Seldjoukides,\nwars which prolonged themselves until the death of Tougroul III., or\nfrom forty to forty-five years. Sultan Sandjar, rightly disturbed at the\nprogress of Hassan's invasion, resolved to entirely destroy a band of\nbrigands in his territory, whose depredations and murders had spread\nterror in all the provinces. To this end, he re-organized an army with\nwhich he marched in person against the aggressors; but, arrived at a\ncertain distance from Mount Alamout, he saw one morning, upon waking, a\ndagger sunk in the earth near the bolster of his bed, whose blade\npierced a note addressed to him, where he read, with fright, these\nwords:\n\n \u00abO Sandjar! know that if I had not wished to respect your days, the\n hand which sunk this dagger in the earth could as well have sunk it\n in your heart.\u00bb\n\nIt is said that the Sultan was so overcome by the reading of this note,\nwhich revealed to him the marvellous power of Hassan-Sebbah over his\ntrusty followers, that he relinquished for the time being his plan of\nattack.\n\nBut let us return to Khayyam, who, remaining a stranger to all these\nalternatives of wars, intrigues, and revolts with which this epoch was\nso filled, lived tranquilly in his native village, giving himself up to\na passionate study of the philosophy of the Sufis. Surrounded by\nnumerous friends he sought with them, in study and entertainment, that\necstatic contemplation which others believe that they find in uttering\ncries and screams until the voice is gone, as the crying dervishes do;\nor in the circular movements that are practiced with frenzy until\nvertigo ensues, as by the whirling dervishes; or finally, in the\natrocious tortures which the Hindoos inflict upon themselves, until they\nlose consciousness. The Persian historians state that Khayyam loved\nespecially to converse and drink with his friends, in the moonlight on a\nterrace before his house, seated upon a carpet, surrounded by singers\nand musicians, with a cup-bearer, who, cup in hand, presented it in turn\nto the joyous guests. We believe we cannot better terminate this rapid\nbiographical and historic sketch than in adding to the life and works of\nour poet two very characteristic quotations.\n\nDuring one of these evenings of which we are speaking, there suddenly\ncame a gust of wind which extinguished the candles and overturned the\npitcher of wine that was imprudently placed too near the edge of the\nterrace. The pitcher was broken and the wine spilled. Immediately\nKhayyam, irritated, improvised this impious quatrain, addressed to the\nAll-Powerful:\n\n\u00abThou hast broken my pitcher of wine, my God! Thus hast Thou shut upon\nme the gate of joy, O Lord! It is I who drink, and it is Thou who\ncommittest the disorder of drunkenness! Oh! (would that my mouth were\nfilled with earth!) couldst Thou be drunk, my Lord?\u00bb\n\nThe poet, after having pronounced this, casting his eyes upon a mirror,\nperceived that his face was black as coal. It was a punishment from\nheaven. Then he made this other quatrain, not less audacious than the\nfirst, and which expresses in an absolute manner, the repulsion of the\npoet for the doctrine of future punishment written in the Koran, and\npreached so ardently by the mullahs. The Sufis consider this doctrine\nnot only in direct opposition to their own, but as unworthy the pity and\nclemency of the Divinity. Here is the quatrain:\n\n\u00abWhat man here below has not sinned, can you say? And how could he have\nlived, had he not committed sin, can you tell? So, if I do wrong and you\npunish me wrongly, what is the difference which exists between you and\nme, I ask?\u00bb\n\nBut let us come to the complete thought of the poet which deduces itself\nso energetically and with so much unity through the fantasy or the\nmysticism of his quatrains.\n\n J.B. Nicolas.\n\n NOTE.--The Translator being unfortunately familiar with at least\n seven translations and paraphrases of Omar, has found it by no means\n easy to expunge from memory the various renderings of the text. This\n \u00absponging out\u00bb was necessary in order that a faithful presentation\n of Nicolas' version of Omar should be made. With this comment, he\n leaves the translation to be judged on its possible merit, adding\n only this--that, declining metre (Fitzgerald's own domain), he has\n sought to clothe the prose in verbal sonance which should not\n disguise or mar the inherent music of the Omarian brook. Fidelity to\n the text, however, has been the first consideration.\n\n R.A.\n\n\n\n\nTHE QUATRAINS OF OMAR KHAYYAM\n\n\n1.\n\n One morning, coming from the tavern I heard a voice\n which said: Come, joyous drinkers, youthful fools, arise,\n and fill with me a cup of wine, ere Fate shall come to\n fill the cup of our existence.\n\n\n2.\n\n O Thou who in the universe art the object chosen\n of my heart! Thou who art more dear than the soul\n which gives me life, than the eyes which give me light!\n O Idol, though in life there be no thing more precious\n than this life, Thou art indeed a hundred times more\n precious than that life.\n\n\n3.\n\n Who led thee here this night, thus given up to wine?\n Who, indeed, raising the veil which hid thee, has been\n able to lead thee here? Who, finally, brought thee as\n rapidly as the wind which fans the fire that still burned\n in thy absence?\n\n\n4.\n\n We meet but chagrin and misfortune in this world,\n which serves us as a tent for the time. Alas! No problem\n of creation has been solved for us, and behold! we\n leave it with hearts full of regret at knowing naught\n about it.\n\n\n5.\n\n O Khadja, give us lawfully a single one of our desires;\n reserve thy breath and lead us into the way of God.\n Surely we walk aright, it is thou that seest crosswise;\n heal, then, thine eyes and leave us here in peace.\n\n\n6.\n\n Come, come, arise, and, for the healing of my heart,\n one problem solve for me: yet quickly bring me a pitcher\n of wine, and let us drink before they make pitchers out\n of our own dust.\n\n\n7.\n\n When I am dead, wash me with the juice of the vine;\n in place of prayer, sing above my tomb the praise of\n the cup and the wine, and, if you would find me again\n at the day of doom, seek me in the dust of the tavern\n floor.\n\n\n8.\n\n Since no one has ever been able to answer thee from\n one day to the next, hasten to glad thy heart filled with\n sadness. Drink, O adorable Moon! drink from thy silver\n cup, for long shalt thou turn in the firmament without\n finding us here again.\n\n\n9.\n\n Would that the lover [the true believer] were intoxicated\n the whole year, mad, absorbed with wine, covered\n with dishonor! For, when we have sound reason, chagrin\n assails us on all sides; but when we are in wine, well,\n let come what will!\n\n\n10.\n\n In Heaven's name! with what hope does the sage attach\n his heart to the illusory treasures of this palace of misfortune?\n Oh! that the One who gave me the name of\n drunkard would recant his error, for how can he see the\n tavern's sign from his exalted abode.\n\n\n11.\n\n The Koran, which is but a name for The Sublime\n Word, is, however, read only from time to time and not\n with constancy; while ever on the brim of the cup\n is found a verse full of light which one can read always\n and everywhere.\n\n\n12.\n\n Thou that drinkest not wine shouldst not for this reason\n blame the drunkard, for I am ready to renounce God,\n myself, should He order me to renounce wine. Thou\n glorifiest thyself for not drinking wine, but such glory\n but ill befits those who commit acts a hundredfold more\n reprehensible than drunkenness.\n\n\n13.\n\n Though my body be beautiful, and the perfume it exhales\n agreeable, though the color of my face rival that\n of the tulip, and my figure be supple as the cypress,\n it has not been demonstrated why my celestial author\n placed me upon this earth.\n\n\n14.\n\n I would drink so much wine that the odor should come\n out of the earth when I have been returned to it, and\n that drinkers who wish to visit my tomb may fall\n senseless from the sole effect of this odor.\n\n\n15.\n\n In the region of hope, form as many friends as you\n can; in the time of existence, bind yourself to a perfect\n friend, for, know well that a hundred Kaabas, made\n of earth and water, are not worth one heart. Leave,\n then, thy Kaabas and rather seek a heart.\n\n\n16.\n\n When I take in my hand a cup of wine and, in the\n joy of my soul, become intoxicate, then, in that state of\n fire which devours me, I see a hundred miracles grow\n real, and words, clear as the most limpid water, come to\n explain the mystery of all things.\n\n\n17.\n\n Since the duration of a day is only two stages, make\n haste to drink wine, the limpid wine; for know well\n that you near the end of your vanishing existence. And,\n since you know that this world drags all to decay,\n be wise, and, also, day and night be drenched in wine.\n\n\n18.\n\n We who give ourselves up to the will of wine offer\n with joy our souls in holocaust to the laughing lips of\n the juice divine. Oh! rapturous sight! Our cup-bearer\n holds in one hand the neck of the flask and in the other\n the cup overflowing, as if inviting us to receive the\n purest of the blood!\n\n\n19.\n\n Yes, we, seated in the midst of this treasure in ruins,\n surrounded by wine and dancers, have put in pawn [in\n order to procure them] all that we possess: soul, heart,\n goods--everything but the cup. We are thus freed from\n hope of pardon and fear of punishment. We are beyond\n the air, the earth, and fire and water.\n\n\n20.\n\n The distance which separates incredulity from faith is\n but a breath,--that which separates doubt from certainty\n is equally but a breath. Let us, then, pass this precious\n space of a breath gaily, for our life also is only separated\n [from death] by the space of a breath.\n\n\n21.\n\n O Wheel of Destiny! destruction comes of thy implacable\n hate. Tyranny for thee is an act of predilection\n which thou hast committed from the commencement of\n centuries; and thou, also, O Earth, if one search in thy\n bosom, what inappreciable treasures will he not find there!\n\n\n22.\n\n My turn of existence has slipped around in a few days.\n It has passed as passes the wind over the desert. Then,\n while remains to me a breath of life, two days shall\n be for which I never need be troubled, the day which\n has not come and that which now has passed.\n\n\n23.\n\n This priceless ruby comes from a mine of its own, this\n rare pearl is pregnant with a character its own; our\n different dogmas on this matter are erroneous, since the\n enigma of perfect love is explained in a language of its\n own [and that is not conveyed to us].\n\n\n24.\n\n Since to-day is my turn for youth, I intend to pass it\n in drinking wine, for that is my pleasure. Begin not to\n talk of its bitterness, to speak ill of this delicious juice,\n for it is agreeable, and is only bitter because it enforces\n the bitterness of my life.\n\n\n25.\n\n O my poor heart! Since thy lot is to be bruised to\n death by chagrin, since nature wills that thou be wounded\n each day with some new torment, tell me, O my soul,\n why stay you in my body, since you must finally leave\n it some day?\n\n\n26.\n\n Thou canst not count to-day on seeing the day after\n to-morrow; even to think of this to-morrow would be the\n part of folly; if thy heart is awakened, lose not in inaction\n this instant of life [which remains to thee] and for\n the duration of which I see no warranty.\n\n\n27.\n\n It is not necessary to knock at every door unless there\n be a reason for it. It is better to accommodate oneself\n to the good and the bad here below, for hereafter we\n can only enjoy the number of moves which destiny presents\n upon the chessboard of this terrestrial ball.\n\n\n28.\n\n This jug [earthen vessel] has been, like me, a loving\n and unhappy creature; it has sighed for a lock of some\n young beauty's hair; this handle that you see attached to\n its neck was an amorous arm passed about the neck of\n some girl.\n\n\n29.\n\n Before your time or mine, there were many twilights,\n many dawns, and it is not without reason that the movement\n of rotation is enforced upon the heavens. Be careful\n as you place your foot upon this dust, for it has,\n without doubt, formed the eyes of someone young and fair.\n\n\n30.\n\n The temple of idols and the Kaaba are places of\n adoration; the chime of the bells is but a hymn chanted to\n the praise of the All-Powerful. The _mehrab_ [Mohammedan\n pulpit], the church, the chapel, the cross are, in truth,\n but different stations for rendering homage to the Deity.\n\n\n31.\n\n Existing things were already predestined upon the\n tablet of creation. The brush [of the universe] did not\n paint good and bad. With destiny God imprinted whatever\n should be so imprinted, and the efforts that we\n make in these directions are wholly lost.\n\n\n32.\n\n I can but vaguely tell my secret to the bad or to the\n good. I cannot elaborate or explain my thought, which\n is essentially brief. I see a place of which I can only\n trace a description; I possess a secret which I cannot unveil.\n\n\n33.\n\n False money is not current among us. The broom has\n rid our joyous dwelling of it completely. An old man,\n returning from the tavern, said to me: Drink wine, my\n friend, for other lives shall follow yours in your long\n sleep.\n\n\n34.\n\n In the face of the decrees of Providence, nothing avails\n but resignation. Among men nothing avails but seeming\n and hypocrisy. I have employed every ruse, the strongest\n that the human mind can invent, but destiny has always\n overturned my projects.\n\n\n35.\n\n If a stranger shows you fidelity, consider him as a kinsman;\n but if a kinsman endeavors to betray you, regard\n him as an enemy. If poison cures you, consider it an\n antidote, and if the antidote does not agree with you,\n regard it as a poison.\n\n\n36.\n\n Except Thy absence there is nothing of worth that can\n bruise to the quick; he cannot be acute who is not taken\n with Thy subtle charms, and, although there exist in\n Thy mind no care for any one, there is none who may\n not be preoccupied with Thee.\n\n\n37.\n\n As long as I am not drunk, my happiness is incomplete.\n When I am overcome with wine, ignorance replaces\n my reason. But there exists an intermediary state\n between drunkenness and sound reason. Oh! with what\n happiness do I enslave myself to such a state, since in it\n there is life!\n\n\n38.\n\n Who will believe that He who fashioned the cup could\n think of destroying it? All these beautiful heads, all\n these beautiful arms, all these dainty hands, are by what\n love created and by what hate destroyed?\n\n\n39.\n\n It is the effect of thy ignorance which makes thee fear\n death and abhor annihilation, for it is evident that from\n this annihilation shoots up a branch of immortality.\n Since my soul has been revived by the breath of Jesus,\n eternal death has fled far from me.\n\n\n40.\n\n Imitate the tulip which flowers at New-year's; take, like\n her, a cup in thy hand and, if the occasion presents itself,\n drink, drink of wine in happiness with some fair girl\n whose cheeks are tinted with the color of this flower, for\n this blue wheel [dome], like a breath of wind, can suddenly\n overturn thee.\n\n\n41.\n\n Since things are not allowed to come to pass as we desire,\n to what purpose are our designs and our efforts?\n We are constantly tormenting ourselves, speaking to ourselves\n with sighs of regret. Ah! we have arrived too late;\n too soon will it be necessary for us to depart!\n\n\n42.\n\n Since the celestial wheel and that of destiny have never\n been favorable, what matters it whether we are able to\n count seven heavens or believe that there are eight?\n There are [I repeat it] two days for which I need not\n care; the day which has not come and that which now\n is gone.\n\n\n43.\n\n O Khayyam! why so much sorrow for a sin committed?\n What comfort more or less do you find in this self-torment?\n He who has not sinned cannot enjoy the sweetness\n of pardon. It is for sin that pardon must exist; in\n that event why entertain a fear?\n\n\n44.\n\n No one has access to the secrets of God behind the\n mysterious curtain; no one [even in mind] can penetrate\n there; we have no other dwelling than the earthly\n mind. Oh, regret! for this also is an enigma not less\n difficult to comprehend.\n\n\n45.\n\n Long time have I delved in this inconstant world, this\n momentary shelter; and in my searches have employed\n all faculties with which I am endowed. Ah, well! and I\n have found the moon to pale before the light of Thy\n visage, that the cypress is deformed beside Thy beauteous\n form.\n\n\n46.\n\n In the mosque, in the _medresseh_ [school annexed to\n the mosque], in the church, and in the synagogue, they\n have a horror of Hell and seek for Paradise, but the seed\n of such disquiet never germinates in the hearts of those\n who penetrate the secrets of the All-Powerful.\n\n\n47.\n\n You have traveled over the world! Ah, well! all that\n you have seen is nothing; all that you have seen and all\n that you have heard are equally nothing. You have gone\n from one end of the universe to the other, all that is\n nothing; you have summed it all up in one corner of your\n room, all that is nothing, still nothing.\n\n\n48.\n\n One night I saw in thought a sage who said to me:\n Sleep, O my friend, has never caused the rose of happiness\n to bloom for anyone; why lend yourself to aught so\n similar to death? Rather drink wine, for you will sleep\n enough when buried in the earth.\n\n\n49.\n\n Had the human heart an exact knowledge of the secrets\n of life, it would also know, at the point of death,\n the secrets of God. If to-day, when you are with yourself,\n you know nothing, what will you know to-morrow\n when you shall be separated from yourself?\n\n\n50.\n\n The day when the heavens shall be confounded, when\n the stars shall be obscured, I will stop Thee upon Thy\n way, O Idol! and, taking Thee by the hem of Thy robe,\n will ask of Thee why Thou hast robbed me of life [after\n giving it to me].\n\n\n51.\n\n We should tell no secrets to the vilely indiscreet; from\n the nightingale, even, should we conceal them. Consider,\n then, the torment you inflict on human souls by forcing\n them to disrobe thus before the gaze of all.\n\n\n52.\n\n O Cupbearer! since time is here, ready to break down\n you and me, this world for neither you nor me can be a\n place of permanence. But, equally, be well convinced\n that while this jug of wine is here 'twixt you and me,\n our God is in our hands.\n\n\n53.\n\n Long time, indeed, with cup in hand, I walked among\n the flowers; nevertheless none of my projects has been\n realized in this world. But, although wine has not led\n me to the goal of my desires, I will not stray from its\n path, for when one follows a road he cannot retrogress.\n\n\n54.\n\n Put a cup of wine in my hand, for my heart is inflamed,\n and my life slips away as quicksilver. Arise,\n then, for the favors of fortune are only a dream; arise,\n for the fire of thy youth is running away like the water\n of a torrent.\n\n\n55.\n\n We are the idolaters of love, but the Musulman differs\n from us; we are like the pitiful ant, but Salomon is our\n foe. Our visages should aye be paled with love, and our\n apparel in rags, and yet the mart for silken stuffs is here\n below.\n\n\n56.\n\n To drink wine and rejoice is my gospel of life. To\n be as indifferent to heresy as to religion is my creed. I\n asked the bride of the human race [the world] what her\n dowry was, and she answered: My dowry consists in the\n joy of my heart.\n\n\n57.\n\n I am worthy neither of Hell nor a celestial abode; God\n knows from what clay he has moulded me. Heretical as\n a dervish and foul as a lost woman, I have neither\n wealth, nor fortune, nor hope of Paradise.\n\n\n58.\n\n Thy passion, man, resembles in all things a house dog\n which never leaves his kennel. It has the slyness of the\n fox, it lies low like a hare, and to the rage of the tiger\n adds the voracity of a wolf.\n\n\n59.\n\n How beautiful they are, these different greens which\n mingle on the edge of a brook! One thinks they must\n have had their birth upon the lips of one divinely fair.\n Place not thy foot upon them with disdain; they spring\n from dust which, once a face, was tinted with the colors\n of a rose.\n\n\n60.\n\n Each heart that God illumines with the light of\n love, as it frequents the mosque or synagogue, inscribes\n its name upon the book of love, and is set free from\n fear of Hell while it awaits the joys of Paradise.\n\n\n61.\n\n A cup of wine is better than the kingdom of Kawous,\n and preferable to Kobad's throne or to the realm of\n Thous. The sighs to which, at dawn, a lover is the prey\n are sweeter than the groans of praying hypocrites.\n\n\n62.\n\n Though sin hath made me ugly and forlorn, not without\n hope am I like some idolater relying on his temple\n gods. So, on the morn I die of yesternight's carouse,\n give me some wine and call the one Beloved, for Hell\n and Paradise are one to me.\n\n\n63.\n\n If I drink wine 'tis not for mere desire; nor for the\n rousing of the mob or insult to the Faith. No, 'tis for a\n passing knowledge of relief from self. No other motive\n could enwreath the cup.\n\n\n64.\n\n Men claim fore-knowledge, predicating Hell or Heaven.\n How plain their fault! How asinine their faith! For\n know that if all lovers of the fair and of the cup deserve\n a Hell, then Paradise will be a void.\n\n\n65.\n\n In Cheeban [a month] I must not embrace the vine; in\n Redjeb I am consecrate to Him. By right these sixty\n suns to Allah and his Prophet are assigned: let Ramazan\n in mercy bring the cooling cup again.\n\n\n66.\n\n Now Ramazan has come, the vintage passed, and\n pledging of the cup and simple customs are afar. Yet\n full the wine pots are, and still untouched, and houris wait\n for us in fond suspense.\n\n\n67.\n\n This rolling hostelry we call the world, where light and\n darkness alternate, is but the ruin of a Jamshid's entertainment\n of a hundred Kings, or e'en a faint memento\n of a host of hunters like to Bahram's self.\n\n\n68.\n\n To-day when fortune's rose is burgeoning, fill high the\n cup. Drink deep, O friend, drink deep, for time is not\n thy friend or ever willingly repeats a day like this.\n\n\n69.\n\n This palace where great Bahram loved to drink now\n herds the young gazelle, and in it lions sleep. Where\n Bahram snared the swift wild ass, the snare of Time has\n in its turn snared him.\n\n\n70.\n\n The clouds expand and weep upon the earth. No\n longer can we live without the amaranthine cup. The\n tender green glads weary eyes to-day, but oh! that emerald\n verdure growing from our dust, whose sight will it\n rejoice?\n\n\n71.\n\n To-day, which we call Adine [Wednesday], leave\n the tiny cup and drink wine from a bowl. If other days\n you drank but one fair bowl, to-day drink two, for Adine\n ranks its fellow days, save one.\n\n\n72.\n\n O heart! since this world makes you sad, since souls\n so pure must leave the tenement of clay, go, sit upon\n the verdure of the field sometimes, ere verdure springs\n in turn from your own dust.\n\n\n73.\n\n This wine, which by its nature hath a multitude of\n forms, which now is animal and now is plant, can never\n cease to be, for its imperishable self ordains a lasting\n life though forms may disappear.\n\n\n74.\n\n No smoke ascends above my holocaust of crime: could\n man ask more? This hand, which man's injustice raises\n to my head, no comfort brings, even though it touch the\n hem of saintly robes.\n\n\n75.\n\n The one on whom you surely most rely, will be your\n enemy, if but you cleanse the eyes that are within. Far\n better, for the short time which remains, to count but\n little on our friends. The talk of men to-day is but a\n broken reed.\n\n\n76.\n\n O heedless man! this veil of flesh is naught; this nine-fold\n vault of brilliant heaven is naught. Then give thyself\n to joy in this disordered place [the world], for life is\n but an instant wed to it, and that is equally naught.\n\n\n77.\n\n Now bring me dancers, wine, and a houri with charming,\n ravishing features--if houris there be. Or find a\n beautiful brook within a green ravine, if such there be.\n Ask nothing better; think no more of Hell's hot penalties,\n for, verily, none is, nor any Paradise more fair than\n that I sing, if Paradise there be.\n\n\n78.\n\n Came an old man from out the tavern drunk, his\n prayer-rug on his shoulders and a bowl of wine in\n hand. I said to him: Aged man! what meaneth this?\n He answered me: Drink wine, my friend, for this world\n is naught but wind.\n\n\n79.\n\n A nightingale, inebriate [with love of the rose], within\n a garden saw the roses laughing with a cup of wine. To\n me he came and whispered in my ear, in tones appropriate\n to the circumstance: Be on thy guard, my friend; one\n cannot hold the life that slips away.\n\n\n80.\n\n Naught is thy body but a tent, Khayyam, thy soul is\n its inhabitant, and its last, long home annihilation is.\n When thy soul leaves the tent, the slaves arise and\n strike it ere they pitch it for the oncoming soul.\n\n\n81.\n\n Khayyam, who sewed the tents of philosophic lore, is\n suddenly engulfed within the crucible of grief, and there\n is burned. The shears of Fate have cut the thread of\n his existence; the Auctioneer of Life has sold him for\n a song.\n\n\n82.\n\n In springtime let me sit upon the edge of a broad\n field with one fair girl, and wine in plenty if wine is at\n hand. Though this may culpable be thought, I should\n be worse than any dog did I not dream of Paradise.\n\n\n83.\n\n Rose-colored wine in crystal cups delights. It charms\n when sipped to lutes' melodious airs or to the plaintive\n throbbing of the harp. The devotee who knows not of\n the joy that is in wine is charming [to himself] or\n when a thousand miles between us yawn.\n\n\n84.\n\n The time we pass in this world has no worth without\n the wine-cup and the wine. It also needs the swelling\n sound of Irak's flute. Incessant watching of things here\n below has told me that in pleasure and in joy alone are\n worth: the rest is naught.\n\n\n85.\n\n Be on thy guard, my friend, for soon thou wilt be\n separate from thy soul; thou then shalt go behind the\n curtain of God's secrecy. Drink, for thou knowest not\n whence thou here hast come; make haste, for thou art\n ignorant where thou shalt go.\n\n\n86.\n\n Since we must die, why do we live? Why agonize to\n reach a problematic bliss? Since, for some unknown\n cause, we may not here remain, why not concern ourselves\n about the future pilgrimage? Why disregard our\n fate?\n\n\n87.\n\n Occasion makes me sing the praise of wine when I surround\n myself with men and things I love. O Devotee!\n canst thou be happy here below knowing that wisdom is\n your Lord? Then know, at least, that wisdom is my\n slave.\n\n\n88.\n\n The world will ever count me as depraved. Natheless\n I am not guilty, Men of Holiness! Look on yourselves\n and question what you are. Ye say I contravene the\n Koran's law. Yet I have only known the sins of drunkenness,\n debauchery and leasing.\n\n\n89.\n\n Free yourselves from your own passions and insatiate\n greed and lo! you shall go out poor as a mendicant.\n Look, rather, unto what you are, whence you have come,\n and learn what you are doing and where bound.\n\n\n90.\n\n The universe is but a point in our poor round of life;\n the Djeihoun [Oxus] but a feeble trace of tears and\n blood; Hell but a spark of useless worry which we give\n ourselves, and Paradise an instant of repose, which here\n below we rarely catch.\n\n\n91.\n\n A slave in dire revolt am I: where is Thy will? Black\n with all sin my heart: where is Thy light and Thy control?\n If Thou giv'st Paradise to our obedience alone\n [to Thy laws], it is a debt of which Thou quit'st\n Thyself and in such case we need Thy pity and benevolence.\n\n\n92.\n\n I know not at all whether He who created me belongs\n to a delicious Paradise or a detestable Hell. [But I do\n know] that a cup of wine, a charming girl and a zither\n at the edge of a green field are three things which I enjoy\n at present, and that you will find them in the promise\n that is made you of a future Paradise.\n\n\n93.\n\n I drink wine, and those who are opposed to it come\n from the left and from the right to ask me to abstain\n from it, because, say they, wine is an enemy of religion.\n But, for that very reason I would drink it, now that I\n hold myself an adversary of faith, because we are permitted\n by God to drink the blood of an enemy.\n\n\n94.\n\n The light of the moon has cut the black robe of night:\n drink then of wine, for one finds not often moments so\n precious. Yes, abandon thyself to joy, for this same\n moon will shine over the surface of the earth a long time\n [after our day].\n\n\n95.\n\n Impute not to the wheel of the heavens all the good\n and all the bad which are in man, all the joys and sorrows\n which come to us by destiny; for this wheel, friend, is\n a thousand times more embarrassed than thou, in the path\n of love [divine].\n\n\n96.\n\n There is no shield which is proof against an arrow\n hurled by Destiny. Grandeur, money, gold all go for\n nothing. The more I consider the things of this world,\n the more I see that the only good is good, all else is\n nothing.\n\n\n97.\n\n A heart which does not contain in itself complete abstinence\n [from things here below] is to be pitied, for it is\n at all times the prey of regret. It is only the heart free\n from care that can be joyous; all that exists beyond this\n is but a subject of torment.\n\n\n98.\n\n He who has had the intelligence to sow joy in his\n heart has not lost a single day in sorrow; he has employed\n his faculties in seeking the will of God, or has procured\n repose for his soul by taking a cup of wine.\n\n\n99.\n\n When God fashioned the clay of my body, he knew\n what would be the result of my acts. It is not without\n His orders that I have committed the sins of which I am\n guilty; in that case, why should I burn in hell-fire at\n the last day?\n\n\n100.\n\n If thou hast drunk wine every consecutive day of the\n week, take care not to deprive thyself of it on Wednesday,\n for, according to our religion, there is no difference\n between this day and Saturday. Be an adorer of the All-Powerful\n and not an adorer of days.\n\n\n101.\n\n O my God! Thou art merciful, and mercy is kindness.\n Why then has the first sinner been thrown out of\n the terrestrial Paradise? If Thou pardonest me when\n I obey Thee, it is not mercy. Mercy is present only\n when Thou pardonest me as the sinner that I am.\n\n\n102.\n\n Leave knowledge and take the cup in thy hand. Disturb\n thyself not about Paradise or Hell, but seek rather\n the _Koocer_ [the celestial river of wine]. Sell thy silken\n turban to buy wine and have no more fear. Rid thyself\n of that head-dress and envelop thy head in a simple woolen\n band [emblem of Sufism].\n\n\n103.\n\n Tell me, friend, have I acquired riches in this world?\n No. Have I given myself up to time as it was slipping\n away? No. I am the torch of joy; but that torch once\n extinguished, I am nothing. I am the cup of Djem [the\n royal cup], but that cup once broken, I am no longer\n anything.\n\n\n104.\n\n Where are the dancers? Where is the wine? Quick!\n that I may do honor to the gourd! Happy the heart\n who remembers his morning cup! Oh! there are three\n things in this world which are dear to me: a head lost in\n wine, an amorous girl, and the noise of the dawn.\n\n\n105.\n\n Since life so soon slips away, what matters it whether\n it be sweet or bitter? Since the soul must pass through\n the lips, what matters whether it be at Nishapur or at\n Balkh? Drink then of wine, for after thee and me, the\n moon will long pass on from its last quarter to its first,\n and from the first to last.\n\n\n106.\n\n This caravan of life passes in curious guise! Be on thy\n guard, my friend, for it is joy that thus escapes! Disturb\n not thyself with the sorrow which to-morrow waits\n our friends, and bring me my cup quickly, for the night\n fast slips away!\n\n\n107.\n\n He who has made the foundations of the world, the\n wheel of the heavens, how He has crucified the heart of\n man with affliction! How many ruby-colored lips has He\n buried in this little globe of earth! How many locks of\n hair perfumed with musk has He hidden in the bosom of\n the dust!\n\n\n108.\n\n O careless men! be not duped by this world, since\n you know its pursuits. Throw not to the wind your\n precious lives; hasten to seek a friend [God], and quickly\n drink of wine.\n\n\n109.\n\n O my companions! pour me some wine and thus\n change my face, from yellow as amber, to the color of\n the ruby. When I am dead, lave me in wine, and of\n the wood of the vine make my coffin and bier.\n\n\n110.\n\n The day when the celestial war-horse of the golden\n stars was saddled, when the planet Jupiter and the\n Pleiades were created, from that day the Divan [Chief\n Justice] of destiny fixed our lot. In what respect, then,\n are we guilty, since such is the part that was made\n for us?\n\n\n111.\n\n Oh! what damage may the vessels filled to flowing do,\n and how incomplete are they who possess riches! The\n eyes of beautiful Turkish women are a feast to the heart,\n yet they are simple learners from the slaves who own\n them.\n\n\n112.\n\n It is necessary that our existence be effaced from the\n book of life, that we expire in the arms of death. O\n charming cupbearer, go, gaily bring me wine since my\n poor earth to earth must come.\n\n\n113.\n\n At this moment, when my heart is not yet deprived of\n life, it seems to me that there are few problems that I\n have not solved. However, when I call intelligence to\n my aid, when I examine myself with care, I perceive\n that my existence has slipped away and that I have still\n defined nothing.\n\n\n114.\n\n Those who adore the _seddjadeh_ [prayer-rug] are asses,\n since they throw themselves, with full consent, into the\n charge of devotees and hypocrites. What is most singular\n about them is that they, under a mantle of piety,\n preach Islamism and are, in reality, worse than idolaters.\n\n\n115.\n\n When the tree of my existence shall be cut down, when\n my members shall be dispersed, let them make pitchers\n of my dust and fill these pitchers with wine; then shall\n my dust be revived [through the wine contained in\n them].\n\n\n116.\n\n O Thou, God, before whom sin is without consequence,\n tell him who possesses intelligence to proclaim this important\n point: that in the eyes of a philosopher it is an\n absolute absurdity to make divine fore-knowledge in league\n with sin.\n\n\n117.\n\n In the first place, my being was given me without my\n consent, which makes my own existence a lasting problem\n to me. Then, we leave this world with regret, and without\n having accomplished the aim of our coming, of our\n stay, or our departure.\n\n\n118.\n\n When my sins come back to mind, the fire which then\n burned in my heart makes my boldness stream forth;\n for everywhere is it established that when a slave repents,\n a generous master pardons him.\n\n\n119.\n\n These potters who constantly plunge their fingers into\n the clay, who employ all their mind, all their intelligence,\n all their faculties to mould it, even to the crushing of\n it with their feet and striking with their hands, of what\n think they? It is the same clay as the human body that\n they are treating thus.\n\n\n120.\n\n Those who, through knowledge, are the cream of the\n world; who, with intelligence scan the heights of the\n heavens, they also, like the firmament, have their heads\n turned in their search for divine knowledge, and are\n taken with vertigo and dimness of sight.\n\n\n121.\n\n God has promised us wine in Paradise. In that case\n why should He prohibit it in this world? One day an\n Arab in a state of drunkenness cut the hams of Hamzah's\n camel with his sword. It is only for him that our\n Prophet makes wine illicit.\n\n\n122.\n\n Since at this moment there only remains to you the\n memory of pleasure passed away; since for a perfect friend\n you have only a cup of wine; finally, since that is all you\n own, rejoice at least in this possession and let the cup\n not slip from your hands.\n\n\n123.\n\n Oh! for the time when we shall be no more and the\n world shall still be here! There will remain no fame or\n trace of us. The world was not unfinished when we\n came; naught will be changed when we have gone\n from it.\n\n\n124.\n\n Those whose feet have trodden the world, who have\n run over it for the sake of appropriating the riches of\n the two hemispheres to themselves, they are not the\n ones, I believe, who have ever been able to explain the\n true state, the real situation of things here below.\n\n\n125.\n\n O regret! The capital [of life] has slipped from our\n hands. Alas! many hearts have been through death\n drowned in blood, and no one returns from the other\n world that I may ask him news of the travelers who\n have gone.\n\n\n126.\n\n These numerous great lords, so proud of their titles,\n are so gnawed by cares and sorrows that existence to\n them is a burden. And most ridiculous it is that they\n deign not to call by the name of men those who, unlike to\n them, are not slaves to their passions.\n\n\n127.\n\n This lofty Wheel, whose trade it is to tyrannize, has\n never loosed for man the knot of any difficulty. Wherever\n it has seen an ulcerated heart, there has it come to add\n wound unto wound.\n\n\n128.\n\n Alas! the period of adolescence reaches home. The\n springtime of our pleasures slips away! That bird of\n gaiety which is called _youth_, alas! I know not when it\n came nor when it flew away!\n\n\n129.\n\n In the midst of this whirlpool of the world, hasten to\n gather some fruit. Seat thyself upon the throne of gaiety\n and bring the cup to thy lips. God is indifferent both\n to creed and sin; enjoy then here below, what pleases\n thee.\n\n\n130.\n\n Do you see those two or three imbeciles who hold the\n world in their hands, and who, in their candid ignorance,\n believe themselves the wisest in the universe? Do not\n disturb yourself for, in their high content, they deem\n all heretics who are not asses [like themselves].\n\n\n131.\n\n Would that the tavern could always be animated by\n the presence of drinkers, that fire would reach the hem\n of the holy robe of devotees, that their monk's frock might\n be torn to tatters and their blue woolen garment be trampled\n under the feet of the drinkers.\n\n\n132.\n\n How long wilt thou be a dupe to colors and perfumes?\n When wilt thou cease to seek out good and bad?\n Thou mightest be the source of Zemzem, thou mightest\n even be the water of life since thou wouldst not know how\n to escape entering the bosom of the earth.\n\n\n133.\n\n Renounce not the drinking of wine if you have any,\n for a hundred repentances follow one such resolution.\n The roses scatter their blossoms, the nightingales fill the\n air with their song, and would it be reasonable to renounce\n drinking in a moment like this?\n\n\n134.\n\n As long as the friend [God] will pour for me the wine\n which rejoices my soul, as long as the heavens have\n not deposited a hundred kisses upon my head and feet,\n whatever they may do, when the moment comes, to induce\n me to renounce drinking, how can I renounce it,\n God not having ordered me to?\n\n\n135.\n\n Whoever has constancy will not renounce drinking wine,\n for wine has within itself the virtue of the water of life.\n If any one renounce it during the month of Ramazan, let\n him at least abstain from engagement in prayer.\n\n\n136.\n\n When I am dead, smooth to the level of the soil the\n dust of my tomb, that I may thus be an example to other\n men. Then, mix with wine the earth of my body and\n make of it--a cover for a wine-jar.\n\n\n137.\n\n O Khayyam! although the Wheel of the Heavens has,\n in setting up his tent, closed the door to discussions, [it\n is evident, nevertheless,] that the cupbearer of eternity\n [God] has produced, in the form of globules of wine in\n the cup of creation, a thousand other Khayyams like\n thee.\n\n\n138.\n\n Give thyself to gaiety, for sorrow will be infinite. The\n stars will continue movement in the firmament, and the\n bricks which will be made of thy body will serve to construct\n palaces for others.\n\n\n139.\n\n Pass joyously thy life, for many other travelers will file\n through this world; the soul will cry after the body from\n which it will be separated, and the head, the seat of\n the passions, will be trampled under the potter's feet.\n\n\n140.\n\n Happy the heart of him who has passed unknown,\n who has not been clothed in a robe of ceremony, nor in\n luxurious garments, nor in stuffs of great price, who,\n like the _simourg_, is lifted into the skies to the place of\n his delight as the owl sits among the ruins of this world.\n\n\n141.\n\n Drinkers alone know how to appreciate the language\n of the roses and of wine, and not the feeble in heart or\n the poor in spirit. Those who have no idea of what is\n occult, to them ignorance is pardonable, for drunkards\n alone can understand what belongs to such an order of\n of things.\n\n\n142.\n\n Once in the tavern, one can make his ablutions only\n with wine. There, when a name is soiled, it cannot be\n restored. Bring, then, some wine, since the veil of our\n shame is torn in such a manner that it cannot be repaired.\n\n\n143.\n\n Pierced with a vain hope, I have thrown to the wind\n a part of my existence, and that without having known\n here below a day of happiness. That which I fear now\n is that time will prevent me from seizing the opportunity\n to make amends for the past.\n\n\n144.\n\n Alas! my heart has not been able to find any remedy\n [for its grief], my soul has arrived at the edge of my\n lips [death], without having attained the object of its love.\n Alas! my life has passed in ignorance, and the enigma\n of this love has not been explained.\n\n\n145.\n\n In the regions of the soul, it is necessary to walk with\n discernment; upon the things of this world, it is well to\n be silent. While we have our eyes, our tongues, and our\n ears, we should be without eyes, without tongues, and\n without ears.\n\n\n146.\n\n In this world, he who commands a loaf of bread and\n who can cover his body with any garment whatsoever,\n he who is neither master nor servant, tell him to live\n content, for he has a sweet existence.\n\n\n147.\n\n One should not plant in his heart the tree of sadness.\n On the contrary, he should ever peruse the book of joy.\n One should drink wine, and follow the trend of his own\n heart, for behold, the length of time remaining to you in\n this world is quickly measured.\n\n\n148.\n\n Has Thy empire gained in splendor by my obeisance,\n O God? Or have my sins retrenched in any degree Thy\n immensity? Pardon, O God, and do not punish, for I\n know well that Thou punishest late and pardonest early.\n\n\n149.\n\n It would be troublesome if my hand, accustomed to\n seize the cup, took the Koran and depended upon Mohammedan\n diet. With you it is different; you are a dry\n devotee, while I am a depraved one, moist [through drink],\n and the only fire I know is kindled by wine.\n\n\n150.\n\n Upon earth, no one presses to his heart a charmer with\n cheeks of the tints of a rose without the time comes\n that he feels the sting of the thorn. See the comb: before\n it could caress the perfumed hair of the beauty, it\n had to be cut into many teeth.\n\n\n151.\n\n Would that I had constantly in my hand the juice of\n the vine! Would that my love for these beautiful idols,\n that are like houris, might never leave my heart! They\n say to me: God has ordered you to renounce these things.\n Oh! should He give me such a command, I would not\n obey it. Far be the thought!\n\n\n152.\n\n Behold, I must go, and life is saddened by my going; for,\n out of a hundred precious pearls but one have I pierced.\n Alas! thanks to the ignorance of men, a hundred thousand\n things of deepest import yet remain unheard.\n\n\n153.\n\n To-day the season smiles; 'tis neither hot nor cold. The\n clouds have washed away the dust which dimmed the\n roses; and nightingales seem whispering to the yellow\n flowers that wine is balm for all.\n\n\n154.\n\n The day when I shall know myself no more, and when\n they will speak of me as of a fable, then I desire [do\n I dare say it?] that my clay be made into a jar for wine\n and destined to service at the tavern.\n\n\n155.\n\n Drink thou of wine before thy name shall vanish from\n this world, for, when this nectar enters thy heart, sorrow\n disappears. Unbind strand by strand the hair of thy\n charming idol, before the jointure of thy frame itself is\n loosed.\n\n\n156.\n\n O idol! ere sorrow comes to assail thee, order rose-colored\n wine. Thou art not gold, O imbecile! to believe\n that after burial in the earth, you can be drawn from it\n again.\n\n\n157.\n\n This world has not derived any advantage from my\n coming here below. Its glory and its dignity are equally\n unaffected by my departure. My two ears have never\n heard any one say why I have come, or why I am forced\n to go again.\n\n\n158.\n\n All thy secrets are known to the wisdom of Heaven\n [God]\u00b7 He knows them hair by hair and vein by vein.\n I admit that by power of hypocrisy you may be able\n to deceive men, but what will you do before Him who\n knows your misdeeds one by one in every detail?\n\n\n159.\n\n Wine gives wings to those attacked by melancholy;\n wine is a mole of beauty upon the cheek of intelligence,\n we have not drunk of it during the Ramazan which\n has passed, but now the eve of [the month of] Burak\n hath arrived and we shall make amends.\n\n\n160.\n\n Live in joy, for the time is coming when all the creatures\n that you see will disappear under the earth; drink,\n drink of wine, and never abandon yourself to the sorrow\n of this world. Those who come after you only too soon\n become a prey to it.\n\n\n161.\n\n There is not a night when my mind is not in a state of\n stupefaction. There is not one when my breast is not\n inundated with pearls that flow from my eyes. The disquiet\n which possesses me keeps the bowl of my head from\n filling itself with wine, can a bowl overturned ever be\n filled?\n\n\n162.\n\n When my nature has seemed disposed to fasting and\n prayer, I have a moment's hope that I am going to attain\n the aim of my desires; but alas! a breath of wind has\n sufficed to destroy the efficacy of my ablutions, and a\n mouthful of wine has annihilated my fast.\n\n\n163.\n\n All my being is attracted by the sight of beautiful,\n rose-colored faces; my hand is aye ready to seize a cup\n of wine. Oh, I wish to enjoy for its part what belongs\n to each of my members, ere these same members are\n lost in the Whole.\n\n\n164.\n\n A worldly love knows not how to produce reflection.\n It is like a fire half extinguished which no longer gives\n heat. A true love should know neither tranquillity, nor\n repose, nor nourishment, nor sleep for months and years,\n day nor night.\n\n\n165.\n\n How long wilt thou pass thy life in adoring thyself, and\n seeking the cause of annihilation of thy being? Drink\n wine, for a life that is followed by death is better spent\n in sleep or drunkenness.\n\n\n166.\n\n To-morrow I shall have surmounted the mountain\n which separates us, and with indescribable happiness\n take the cup in my hand. My mistress longs for me,\n the day is bright; if I do not hasten to enjoy myself\n in such a moment, when shall I find enjoyment?\n\n\n167.\n\n There are people who through outrageous presumption\n are sunk in pride; and others who abandon themselves\n to the houris of celestial palaces. When the curtain is\n raised, we shall see that they have fallen far, far, far,\n from Thee [O God]!\n\n\n168.\n\n We are assured that there is a Paradise for us peopled\n with houris, and that we shall find there limpid wine and\n honey. It must then be permitted us to love women and\n wine here below, for is not this our end and aim?\n\n\n169.\n\n They pretend that there exists a Paradise where there\n are houris, where the _Koocer_ flows, where there is limpid\n wine, honey and sugar. Oh! fill quickly a cup of wine\n and put it in my hand, for one present joy is worth more\n than a thousand promised for the future.\n\n\n170.\n\n Even a mountain would dance for joy if you soaked it\n in wine. Poor is the fool who scorns the cup. You dare\n order me to renounce the juice of the vine! Know then\n that wine is a soul which helps to bring man to perfection.\n\n\n171.\n\n From time to time my heart finds itself much straitened\n in its cage. Shameful is it to be mixed with water\n and clay. I have often thought of destroying this prison,\n but my foot would come in contact with a stone and slip\n on the stirrup of the Koran's law.\n\n\n172.\n\n They say that the moon of Ramazan [month of fasting]\n is about to appear and that wine must no longer be\n thought of. It is well; but let me during the remainder\n of Cheeban [the month preceding] drink such\n a quantity of it that I may remain drunk up to the day\n of the fast.\n\n\n173.\n\n Cease, if ye are my friends, all vain discourse, and,\n to relieve my mental pains pour out the wine. And\n when to dust my frame returns, the self-same dust\n collect and make it brick to stop some crevice in the\n tavern wall.\n\n\n174.\n\n The beverage of our existence is sometimes limpid,\n sometimes muddy. Our garments are at one time of\n coarse wool, at another of finest fabric. All this is insignificant\n to a clear mind; but is it insignificant to die?\n\n\n175.\n\n No one has penetrated the secrets of the Principle\n [First Cause]. No one has taken a step outside himself.\n I look about and see only insufficiency from pupil to\n master, insufficiency in all that the mother brings forth.\n\n\n176.\n\n Restrain thy envy of the things of this world if thou\n wishest to be happy; break the bonds which enchain\n thee to the good and the bad here below; live contented,\n for the periodic movement of the heavens takes its course,\n and this life will not be of long duration.\n\n\n177.\n\n No one has had access behind the curtain of destiny;\n no one has knowledge of the secrets of Providence. For\n seventy-two years I have reflected day and night, I have\n learned nothing anywhere, and the enigma remains unexplained.\n\n\n178.\n\n They say that at the last day there will be judgments,\n and that our dear Friend [God] will be in anger. But\n from pure goodness only goodness emanates. Be then\n without fear, for finally you will see that He is full of\n gentleness.\n\n\n179.\n\n Drink wine, since it is that which will put an end to\n the disquiet of thy heart; it will deliver thee from thy\n meditations upon the seventy-two sects of the globe. Do\n not abstain from this alchemy for, if thou drinkest but a\n _men_ [a measure] of it, it will destroy for thee a thousand\n infirmities.\n\n\n180.\n\n Wine has been prohibited, perhaps, but it is only prohibited\n according to the person who drinks it, according\n to the quantity drunk, and according to the individual\n with whom we drink it. These points once observed,\n who would drink it if not the wise?\n\n\n181.\n\n For myself, I should pour some wine into a cup that\n would contain a pint. I should be content with two\n cups; but first I should divorce myself thrice from religion\n and reason, and then espouse the daughter of the\n vine.\n\n\n182.\n\n Yes, I drink wine, and whoever like me is far-seeing\n will find that this act is insignificant in the eyes of the\n Divinity. From all eternity God has known that I would\n drink wine. If I did not drink it, His prescience would\n be pure ignorance.\n\n\n183.\n\n The drinker, if he is rich, ruins himself. The disorder\n of his drunkenness provokes scandal in the world. For\n this I should put an emerald in the bowl of my ruby pipe,\n effectually to blind the serpent of my grief.\n\n\n184.\n\n There are some ignorant beings who have never passed\n a night in quest of truth, who have never taken a step\n outside themselves, who show themselves clothed in the\n garments of great lords and who are pleased to slander\n those whose conduct is irreproachable.\n\n\n185.\n\n When the azure of dawn shows itself, have the sparkling\n cup in thine hand. They say that truth is bitter in the\n mouth of mortals. That is a plausible reason for wine\n being truth itself.\n\n\n186.\n\n This is the moment when the verdure begins to ornament\n the world, when, like the hand of Moses, the buds begin\n to show themselves upon the branches; when, revivified,\n as if by the breath of Jesus, the plants spring forth from\n the earth; when finally the clouds begin to ope their\n eyes and weep.\n\n\n187.\n\n Keep from the trouble and vexation of aiming to acquire\n white silver or yellow gold. Eat with thy friend,\n ere thy warm breath be cooled, for after thee come enemies\n who will eat thee.\n\n\n188.\n\n Each mouthful of wine which the cupbearer pours into\n the cup helps to extinguish the fire of anger in thy burning\n eyes. Has it not been said, O great God, that wine\n is an elixir which drives from the heart a hundred sorrows\n that oppress it?\n\n\n189.\n\n When the violet has tinted her cheeks, when the\n zephyr has made the roses bloom, then he who is wise in\n company with the fact will drink wine until he can dash\n the cup against a stone [showing emptiness].\n\n\n190.\n\n The devotee knows not how to appreciate as well as\n we Thy divine pity. A stranger can never know Thee\n as perfectly as a friend. [They pretend] that Thou hast\n said: If you commit sin, I will send you into Hell. Go\n now--tell that to one who knows Thee not.\n\n\n191.\n\n A cup of wine is worth the empire of the universe;\n the brick which covers the jar is worth a thousand lives.\n The napkin with which one wipes lips moistened with\n wine is indeed worth a thousand turbans.\n\n\n192.\n\n O Friends! meet together [after my death]. Once reunited,\n rejoice in being together and, when the cupbearer\n takes in his hand a cup of old wine, remember poor\n Khayyam and drink to his memory.\n\n\n193.\n\n Not a single time has the Wheel of Heaven been propitious\n to me, never for one instant has it allowed me\n to hear a sweet voice, not a day has it given me a\n second of happiness but that very day it has plunged\n me into an abyss of grief.\n\n\n194.\n\n A cup of wine is worth a hundred hearts, a hundred\n creeds, a mouthful of this juice divine is worth the Empire\n of China. What is there, truly, on the earth preferable\n to wine? It is a bitter that is a hundred times\n sweeter than life.\n\n\n195.\n\n The Wheel of Heaven only multiplies our griefs! It\n places nothing here below that it does not soon bear\n away. Oh! if those who have not yet come knew\n the suffering this world inflicts, they would guard themselves\n well from coming here.\n\n\n196.\n\n Drink, drink this wine which gives eternal life; drink,\n for it is the source of youthful joy; it burns like fire,\n but, like life's essence, drives away your care. Then\n drink!\n\n\n197.\n\n O Friend, to what good art thou preoccupied with\n _being_? Why trouble thus thy heart, thy soul with idle\n thoughts? Live happily, pass thy time joyously, for you\n were not asked your opinion about the making of things\n as they are.\n\n\n198.\n\n The inhabitants of the tomb are returned to earth in\n dust; the atoms [of which they are composed] are scattered\n here and there, separated one from the other.\n Alas! what is this drink in which the human race is\n soaked and which holds it thus in dizzy ignorance of all\n things, even to the day of doom?\n\n\n199.\n\n O heart! act as if all the good things of this world\n belonged to you; imagine that this house is provided\n with everything, that it is richly furnished, and live joyously\n in this domain of disorder. Realize that thou restest\n here for two or three days, and that thereafter thou\n shalt rise and go away.\n\n\n200.\n\n The dogmas of religion admit only that which places\n you under obligation to the Divinity. That morsel of\n bread that you have, refuse not to others; keep from\n speaking evil; render evil to no one, and it is I who\n promise you a future life: bring wine.\n\n\n201.\n\n Dragged through the rapid course of time, which accords\n its favors only to the least worthy, my life is passed\n in a gulf of grief and sorrow. In this garden of being,\n my heart is hard as is the green bud of a rose; and like\n a tulip, it is dipped in blood.\n\n\n202.\n\n What belongs to youth is wine, the limpid juice of the\n vine and the society of beauty; and since water once\n brought ruin to this world by annihilating it, it is our\n part to drown ourselves in wine, to pass our life in\n drunkenness complete.\n\n\n203.\n\n Bring wine from this ruby vessel and pour it into a\n simple crystal cup; bring that thing habitual and dear\n to every noble man. Since you know that all beings are\n but dust, and that a two-day tempest makes them disappear,\n bring wine.\n\n\n204.\n\n O Thou, the quest of whom holds all in dizziness and\n distress, the dervish and the rich are equally void of\n means of reaching Thee. Thy name is in the speech\n of all, but all are deaf; Thou art present to the eyes of\n all, but all are blind.\n\n\n205.\n\n In company with one dear friend, how pleasing to me\n is a cup of wine. When I become the prey of care, it\n is fitting that my eyes should be filled with tears. Oh!\n this abject world has nothing lasting for us, and best it\n is to dwell inebriate.\n\n\n206.\n\n Keep thyself from drinking wine in the company of a\n boorish, violent character, having no mind or self-control,\n for such a man knows only how to cause unpleasantness.\n For the time, thou wouldst have to undergo the disorder\n of his drunkenness, his vociferations, his folly. And the\n next day, his prayers for excuse and pardon would come\n to weary thy head.\n\n\n207.\n\n Since you only possess what God has given you, torment\n not yourself to obtain the object of your covetousness.\n Keep from burdening the heart too much, for the\n final drama consists in leaving all and passing beyond.\n\n\n208.\n\n O my soul! drink this limpid nectar which has not\n been stirred; drink it in memory of the charming idols\n which ravish the heart. Wine is the blood of the vine,\n my friend, and the vine says to thee: Drink of me,\n since I render it lawful to you.\n\n\n209.\n\n In the season of flowers, drink rose-colored wine; drink\n to the plaintive sounds of the lute, to the melodious noise\n of the harp. As for me, I drink and rejoice in it; may\n it be salutary to me! If you do not drink, why not be\n willing that I should? Go, then, and eat pebbles!\n\n\n210.\n\n Art thou sad? Take a piece of hasheesh as large as a\n grain of barley, or drink a small measure of rose-colored\n wine. Then you will become a Sufi. But, if you will\n not drink of this or partake of that, nothing remains for\n you but to eat pebbles; go, eat some pebbles!\n\n\n211.\n\n But yesterday, I saw a potter in a bazaar treading\n most vigorously the clay he was molding. The clay\n seemed to say to him: I also have been like thee; treat\n me, then, with less harshness.\n\n\n212.\n\n If thou drinkest wine, drink it with intelligent people,\n drink it in company with thy ravishing idols, with smiles\n upon their lips and their cheeks tinted with the colors of\n the tulip. Drink not too much or speak boastingly of\n it; make it not a refrain, but drink a little from time\n to time in quietude.\n\n\n213.\n\n Wine should be drunk in the company of slender creatures\n who ravish the heart with the color of their cheeks.\n Art thou bitten by the serpent of grief, friend--drink, then,\n of this antidote. I myself drink of it and plume myself\n on the strength of it; would that it might be propitious!\n If you drink it not, why not be willing that I should?\n Go, eat some earth.\n\n\n214.\n\n Here is the Dawn; arise, O beardless youth, and quickly\n fill this crystal cup with ruby wine, for [later], you could\n seek long time ere finding such a moment of existence as\n is lent us in this world of nothingness.\n\n\n215.\n\n 'Twixt wine and Jemshid's throne, give me the wine;\n the bouquet of the cup is sweeter than the Virgin's\n heaven-sent fruits. The morning sigh of one inebriate\n the bygone night is more melodious than the longdrawn\n lamentations of Adhem or Bou-Sa\u00efd.\n\n\n216.\n\n O my heart! since the foundation, even, of the things\n of this world is only a fiction, why do you venture thus\n in an infinite gulf of sorrow? Trust yourself to destiny,\n endure the evil, for the lot which the heavenly brush\n has traced for you will not be effaced.\n\n217.\n\n Of all those who have taken the long road, who is there\n now returned of whom I may ask news? O friend! beware\n of putting any hope whatever in this sordid world,\n for, know well that thou here shalt ne'er return.\n\n\n218.\n\n Since each of these nights and each of these days cuts\n off a part of thy existence, allow not the nights or the\n days to cover thee with dust. Pass them gaily, for how\n long, alas! shalt thou be absent, while the nights and\n days will still be here!\n\n\n219.\n\n This wheel of heaven which tells its secrets to no man,\n has killed a thousand Mahmouds [Sultans] and a thousand\n Ayaz [favorites]; drink wine, for the life of none\n shall ever be restored. Alas! not one of all those who\n left the world can again return!\n\n\n220.\n\n O Thou who rulest the whole universe! knowest Thou\n what are the days when wine rejoices the soul? They\n are: Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday,\n Friday and Saturday, all day long.\n\n\n221.\n\n O Being, exquisite in thy enticing and coquettish charm!\n be seated: rise no more and thus appease the fire of a\n thousand torments. Thou enjoinest me not to look upon\n Thee; but it is as if Thou shouldst order me to incline\n the cup and forbid me spilling its contents.\n\n\n222.\n\n Better to be with Thee in the tavern, and there tell\n Thee my secret thoughts, than to go without Thee and\n make a prayer in the mosque. Yea, O Creator of all\n that was and all that is! such is my faith, whether Thou\n burnest me, or accordest me Thy favor.\n\n\n223.\n\n Consort with honest and intelligent men. Flee a thousand\n miles away from the ignorant. If a man of mind\n give thee poison, drink it; if an ignorant one present\n thee an antidote, pour it upon the ground.\n\n\n224.\n\n The clouds are still spread out above the roses and\n seem to cover them as with a veil. The desire for wine\n is not yet satiated in my heart. Then go not to rest, it is\n not yet the hour. O my soul, drink of the wine; drink,\n for the sun is still upon the horizon.\n\n\n225.\n\n Like unto a sparrow-hawk, I am flying away from this\n world of mysteries, hoping to lift myself to a higher\n world; but, fallen, here below, and finding no one worthy\n to share my secret thoughts, I go out through the door\n by which I entered.\n\n\n226.\n\n Thou hast put in us an irresistible passion [which is\n equivalent to an order from Thee], and, on the other\n hand, forbiddest us to give way to it. Poor human\n beings are in extreme embarrassment between this order\n and this prohibition, for it is as if Thou commandest me\n to upset the cup but refrain from spilling the contents.\n\n\n227.\n\n They are gone, these transients, and no one of them\n has returned to tell the secrets concealed behind the curtain.\n O devotee! it is by humility that spiritual affairs\n take favorable turn and not by prayer, for, what is\n prayer without sincerity and humility?\n\n\n228.\n\n Throw dust upon the vault of heaven and drink some\n wine; seek out the fair, for where see you a subject for\n pardon, a subject for prayer, since, of all those who\n have gone away, no one has returned?\n\n\n229.\n\n Although on my necklace of duty I have never strung\n the pearl of submission, as is Thy due, although never\n in my heart have I swept the dust from Thy steps, I\n have never despaired reaching the sill of Thy throne of\n pity, for never have I importuned Thee with my troubles.\n\n\n230.\n\n Let us recommence the course of our pleasures and\n say the _tekbir_ [farewell] to the five prayers. Everywhere,\n where the flask is present, you will see, like the neck of\n the flask itself, our necks stretching out towards the cup.\n\n\n231.\n\n Here below, we are only the puppets with which the\n Wheel of Heaven is amused. This is a truth and not a\n metaphor. We are in fact the playthings upon this human\n checkerboard, which finally we leave to enter one\n by one the coffin of annihilation.\n\n\n232.\n\n You ask me what is this phantasmagoria of things here\n below. To tell you the whole truth regarding it would\n be too long: it is a fantastic image which comes out of\n a vast sea, and which re-enters, later, the same vast sea.\n\n\n233.\n\n To-day we are lost in love, we are in deep distress,\n and finally inebriate, within the temple of our idols\n render to the cult of wine its due. To-day, entirely separate\n from our being, we shall have attained the step of\n the eternal throne.\n\n\n234.\n\n My well-beloved [would that her life might last as long\n as my sorrows!] has commenced to be amiable to me\n again. She cast in my eyes a sweet and furtive look\n and disappeared, saying without doubt to herself: Do\n good and cast it on the waters.\n\n\n235.\n\n Here is the Dawn! Rise Thou, O Source of all Delight!\n Drink sweetly of the wine and let us listen to the harmonies\n of the harp, for the life of those who sleep will\n not be long, and of those who are no more, not one will\n e'er return.\n\n\n236.\n\n O Thou, who knowest the secrets hidden most deeply\n at the bottom of the heart of each, Thou who raisest with\n Thy hand all those who fall in distress, give me the power\n of renunciation and accept my excuses, O God!--Thou\n who givest this power to all, who acceptest the excuses\n of all!\n\n\n237.\n\n I saw on the walls of the city of Thous a bird hovering\n before the skull of Kai-Kawous. The bird said to\n the skull: Alas! what has become of the noise of thy\n glory and the sound of the clarion?\n\n\n238.\n\n Raise no question of the vicissitudes of this world, nor\n of affairs of the future. Consider what a prize we have\n in the present moment, and disturb not thyself with the\n past or question me about the future.\n\n\n239.\n\n Let not the fear of future things yellow thy cheeks; let\n not present affairs make thee tremble with fright; rejoice,\n in this world of annihilation, at the portion of pleasure\n which comes to you, and wait not for that which the\n kindness of heaven may withhold.\n\n\n240.\n\n If you will listen to me, I will give you some advice:\n [Here it is] For the love of God put not on the mantle\n of hypocrisy. Eternity is for all time, and this world\n is but an instant. Then sell not for an instant the empire\n of eternity.\n\n\n241.\n\n How long can I hold you by my ignorance? My own\n annihilation oppresses my heart. Straightway I gird my\n loins with the ephod of the priests. Do you know why?\n Because it is the fashion of the Musulman, and I am one.\n\n\n242.\n\n O Khayyam! when intoxicate, be happy; when seated\n near a beauty, joyous be. Since the end of things in this\n world is annihilation, pretend that you are not, but\n since you are, give yourself up to pleasure.\n\n\n243.\n\n Yesterday, I visited the workshop of a potter; there I\n saw two thousand pitchers, some speaking, others silent.\n Each one of these seemed to say to me: Where is the\n potter? Where is the buyer of pitchers? Where the\n seller?\n\n\n244.\n\n Yesterday, while passing drunk before an inn, I met an\n old man overcome with wine and carrying a gourd of\n wine upon his back. I said to him: O aged man! have\n you no fear of God? He answered me: Pity comes from\n Him; go, drink some wine.\n\n\n245.\n\n How long will lack of success in thy enterprises grieve\n thee? Torment is the portion of those who think of the\n future. Live then, in joy, grieve not thy heart with the\n cares of this world, and know that wine increases not at\n all the bitterness of pain.\n\n\n246.\n\n Wine, which the wise man knows how to appreciate,\n is for me the water of life and I its prophet am. It is\n balm for the heart, an elixir which fortifies the soul.\n Has God Himself not said: The benefits of the human\n race are found in wine.\n\n\n247.\n\n Although wine be prohibited, drink it without ceasing,\n drink it in the evening and in the morning, drink it to\n the noise of songs and to the sound of the harp. When\n you can, procure that which sparkles like the ruby, throw\n a drop on the earth and drink all the rest.\n\n\n248.\n\n Diversity of creed divides the human race into about\n seventy-two sects. Amongst all these dogmas, I have\n chosen that of Thy love. What signify these words:\n Impiety, Islamism, creed, sin? My true aim is to seek\n Thee. Far be from me all these vain, indifferent pretexts.\n\n\n249.\n\n Enumerate my good qualities one by one; my faults,\n pass by in tens. Pardon each sin committed for the love\n of God. Fan not the fire of hatred by the breath of\n passion, pardon, rather, in memory of the tomb of the\n Prophet of God [Mohammed].\n\n\n250.\n\n In truth, wine is a limpid spirit in the cup; in the body\n of the flask, it is a transparent soul. No annoying person\n is worthy of my society. It is only the cup of wine\n which can figure there, for that is at once a solid and a\n diaphanous body.\n\n\n251.\n\n O Wheel of Heaven! Thou art complete in Thy ingratitude.\n Thou keepest me constantly bare [naked]\n like a fish. The weaver's loom weaves clothes for human\n beings; more charitable is it than Thou, O Wheel of\n Heaven!\n\n\n252.\n\n O Khayyam! Time is ashamed of him who allows his\n heart to be saddened by vicissitudes below; drink, then,\n to the sound of the harp, drink some wine from the\n crystal, before the crystal broken be upon a stone.\n\n\n253.\n\n If the rose is not our portion, do not the thorns remain?\n If light divine does not reach us, is there not the fire [of\n hell]? If we have not the clerical mantle, or that of\n the temple, or the pontifical, do not the bells, the church,\n and the ephod remain to us?\n\n\n254.\n\n If the Wheel of Heaven refuses me peace, am I not\n ready for war? If I have not an honorable reputation,\n have I not shame for myself? Here is the cup full of\n wine the color of rubies; he who will not drink of it, has\n he not his head and a stone?\n\n\n255.\n\n See Dawn appears. Already has it rent the veil of\n night. Arise, then, and empty the morning cup. Why\n this sadness? Drink, O my heart! drink, for these dawns\n will succeed each other with face turned towards us,\n when we shall have ours turned towards the earth.\n\n\n256.\n\n All that this world contains are but images and flourishes\n of fiction. Ill-advised is he who does not comprehend\n his place in the number of these images. Repose,\n thou, friend, drink a cup of wine, give thyself up to joy\n and thus be delivered from all these vain figures, from\n these impossible reflections [which come to assail thy\n mind].\n\n\n257.\n\n When you are in the company of a beauty with cypress-like\n figure and a color fresher than the newly-culled\n rose, put not far from thee the flowers of the field, nor\n let the cup escape from thy hand; [do this] before the\n north-wind of death, like a gale which disperses the\n leaves of the roses, tears in tatters the envelope of thy\n being.\n\n\n258.\n\n How long these cries, these groans against the things\n of this world? Rise, rather, and pass gaily every instant.\n When the universe shall be re-dressed in green from end\n to end, drink wine in a ruby cup, full to the brim.\n\n\n259.\n\n Give not vain thoughts free access to thy mind. Drink\n wine throughout the year, and always cups filled to the\n brim. Pursue the daughter of the vine and aye rejoice,\n for it is better to enjoy the daughter without leave of\n law than know the mother with her full consent.\n\n\n260.\n\n My love is at the apogee of its flame. The beauty\n of the one who captivates my soul [the Divinity] is complete.\n My heart speaks, but my tongue remains mute,\n refusing to express my sentiments. Great God! Has one\n ever seen aught more strange? I am devoured by thirst,\n and before me flows a fresh and limpid draught!\n\n\n261.\n\n Take a cup of wine in thy hand, then mingle thy voice\n with that of the nightingale, for, if it were meet to drink\n this juice of the vine without accompaniment of harmonious\n sound, the wine itself would make no noise in\n slipping out of the flask.\n\n\n262.\n\n Guard thyself from ever despairing for a crime committed,\n and be mindful of the clemency of thy Creator,\n the pity of the Master; for, should'st thou die to-day, in\n a state of complete drunkenness, to-morrow he would\n pardon thy decaying dust for all.\n\n\n263.\n\n O Wheel of Heaven, thy circular course does not satisfy\n me. Deliver me from it, for I am unworthy of thy\n chain. If thy good pleasure consists in according thy\n favors only to the poor in mind, to idiots, I am neither\n intelligent enough or wise enough [to be confounded\n by it].\n\n\n264.\n\n O _mufti_ [grand judge] of the city! I am more a worker\n than art thou. Drunk as I am, I own more intelligence\n than thou; for thou, thou drinkest the blood of human\n beings and I that of the vine. Be just and tell me\n which is the more sanguinary of the two?\n\n\n265.\n\n That which is wisest is to seek joy in our hearts in\n a cup of wine; and not preoccupy ourselves too much\n with the present or the past; and, finally, were it only\n for an instant, to free from the shackles of reason that\n soul which has been loaned us and which groans in its\n prison.\n\n\n266.\n\n The moment I shall fly from death, when, like the\n dry leaves, the particles of my body shall detach themselves\n from the centers of life, oh, then! with what joy\n shall I pass across the universe, as through a sieve,\n before the mason comes to sift my own dust.\n\n\n267.\n\n That vault of heaven, under which we reel, we might,\n in thought, liken to a lantern. The universe is the lantern.\n The sun represents the light, and we, like the\n images with which the lantern is ornamented, dwell there\n in stupefaction.\n\n\n268.\n\n Thou hast formed me of earth and of water, what can\n I do? Whether I be wool or silk, it is Thou that hast\n woven, and what can I do? The good that I do, the\n evil that I am guilty of, were alike predestined by Thee;\n what can I do?\n\n\n269.\n\n O friend, come to me, and let us take no thought\n of to-day nor to-morrow, but consider our short instant\n of existence as spoils. To-morrow, when we shall have\n abandoned this old tent [the world], we shall be the\n companions of those who left it seven thousand years\n ago!\n\n\n270.\n\n Never for a moment be deprived of wine, for it is wine\n that gives reflection to intelligence, to the heart of man\n and to religion. If the devil had tasted it for one instant,\n he would have adored Adam and have made before\n him thousands of genuflections.\n\n\n271.\n\n Arise, dance, and we shall clap our hands. Drink to\n the presence of beauties with the languorous eyes of the\n narcissus. Happiness is not very great when one has\n emptied but a score of cups; it is strangely complete\n when one arrives at the sixtieth.\n\n\n272.\n\n I have shut upon myself the door of avarice, and am\n thus free from obligation to those who are men and those\n who do not merit the name. Since there exists but one\n friend [God] toward whom I can extend my hand, I am\n what I am, and that concerns only Him and me.\n\n\n273.\n\n I am constantly saddened by the motion of this Wheel\n of the Heavens. I am in revolt against my vile nature.\n I have neither enough knowledge to hide myself and not\n return to the world, nor intelligence enough to live there\n without preoccupying myself with it.\n\n\n274.\n\n How many people that I see upon the surface of the\n earth are plunged in sleep [superstition]! How many I\n perceive that are already buried in its depths! When I\n throw my eyes over this desert of Not-being, how many\n people I see who have not yet come--how many who\n have already departed!\n\n\n275.\n\n Thy pity being promised me, I have no fear of sin.\n With the provision that Thou possessest, I have no disquiet\n about the journey. Thy benevolence renders my\n visage white and of the black book I have no fear.\n\n\n276.\n\n Be not led to believe that I fear the world, or that I\n have fear of dying, or of seeing my soul go its way.\n Death being a truth, I have no fear of it. What I fear\n is that I have not lived well.\n\n\n277.\n\n How long shall we be slaves to reason and to every\n day? What matters it whether we remain a hundred\n years in this world, or whether we dwell here but a day?\n Go, bring some wine in a bowl before we are transformed\n into pitchers in the workshop of some potter.\n\n\n278.\n\n How long will you blame us, O ignorant man of God!\n We are the patrons of the tavern, we are constantly overcome\n with wine. You are given up entirely to your\n chaplet, to your hypocrisy, and your infernal machinations.\n We, cup in hand and always near the object of our love,\n live in accordance with our desires.\n\n\n279.\n\n Let us sell the diadem of Khan, the crown of Kai, let\n us sell it and buy the sound of a flute let us sell the\n turban and the silken cassock, yea, for a cup of wine let\n us sell the chaplet which in itself contains naught but\n hypocrisy.\n\n\n280.\n\n That day when the juice of the vine does not ferment\n in my head, the universe could offer me an antidote which\n would be a poison to me. Yea, sorrow over the things\n of this world is a poison, and its antidote is wine. I will\n take the antidote then that I may have no fear of the\n poison.\n\n\n281.\n\n How long shall we blush at the injustice of others?\n How long shall we burn in the fire of this insipid world?\n Arise, banish from thee the sorrow of the world, if thou\n art a man; to-day is a feast; come, drink rose-colored\n wine.\n\n\n282.\n\n I am in continual war with my passions, but what can\n I do? The memory of my deeds causes me a thousand\n regrets, but what can I do? I admit that in Thy clemency\n Thou mayest pardon my faults, but the shame of\n knowing that Thou knowest what I have done, that shame\n will remain, and what can I do?\n\n\n283.\n\n O my soul! we two form together the parallel of a compass.\n Although we have two points, we make but one\n body. Actually, we turn upon the same point and describe\n a circle, but the day will come finally, when these two\n points shall be united.\n\n\n284.\n\n Since this world is not a place of permanent sojourn for\n us, it would be an enormous error to deprive ourselves\n of wine and abstain from the favors of our well-beloved.\n Oh, peaceable man! how long these discussions upon the\n creation or upon the eternity of the world? When I no\n longer am, what will it matter to me whether it be ancient\n or modern.\n\n\n285.\n\n Although it may be through duty that I present myself\n at the mosque, it certainly is not for the purpose of\n making a prayer. One day I stole a _sedjaddeh_ [prayer-rug].\n The _sedjaddeh_ is worn out; I have returned\n again, and still again.\n\n\n286.\n\n Be not cast down by the troubles which we call vicissitudes\n here below. Let us occupy ourselves only in\n drinking pure wine, limpid wine, the color of a rose.\n Wine, friend, is the blood of the world. The world is\n our murderer; how shall we resist drinking the blood of\n the heart of him who spills ours?\n\n\n287.\n\n For the love which I bring thee, I am ready to undergo\n all sorts of blame, and if I violate my vow, I submit\n to the penalty. Oh! had I to endure until the last day\n the torment that thou causest me, that space of time\n would still seem too short.\n\n\n288.\n\n We have arrived too late in this circle of being, and\n have descended below human dignity. Oh! since life is\n not passed in accordance with our vows, it is better\n that it should be finished, for we are glutted with it!\n\n\n289.\n\n Since the world is perishable, I would devise some\n scheme for it; I would think only of joy, or only of the\n limpid wine. They say to me: Would God might make\n thee renounce it! Nay, would that He might not give\n such command, for if He gave it, I would not obey!\n\n\n290.\n\n When, with bowed head, I have fallen at the feet of\n death; when this destroying angel shall have made me\n like a bird robbed of its plumage, then of my dust make\n nothing other than a flask, for the perfume of the wine\n that it contains might revive me for an instant.\n\n\n291.\n\n When I examine closely the things of this world, what\n I see is that human beings in general appropriate to themselves,\n without merit on their part, the good it contains.\n As for me, O God All-Powerful! I meet only\n the reverse of my desires in all that falls under my eyes!\n\n\n292.\n\n It is I who am the chief of habitual patrons of the\n tavern; it is I who am plunged in rebellion against the\n law, it is I who, during the long nights, soaked in pure\n wine, cry out to God the griefs of my heart imbrued with\n blood.\n\n\n293.\n\n How grow the nights without which we could not\n close our eyes, and before which a cruel fate comes first\n to sadden us! Arise, and let us breathe an instant ere\n the breath of the morning stirs, for, very long, alas!\n will this Dawn breathe when we no longer breathe!\n\n\n294.\n\n Come, see the Dawn, and, with a full cup of rose-colored\n wine in hand, let us breathe for an instant. As\n for honor, reputation, that fragile crystal, let us break it\n against a stone. Renounce insatiable desires, and stroke\n the silken tresses of the fair and list the harmonies of the\n harp.\n\n\n295.\n\n In this world, where each breath we breathe leads to\n a new sorrow, it is better never to breathe an instant\n without a cup of wine in hand. When the breath of\n Aurora makes itself felt, arise and, time after time, empty\n the cup, for [as I have told you] this Dawn will breathe\n for long, long years when we no longer breathe.\n\n\n296.\n\n Should I commit all the sins of the universe, still Thy\n pity, I dare believe, would extend its hand to me. Hast\n Thou not promised to put off the day when I should be\n a prey to my infirmities? [Accomplish Thy promise and\n for that] exact not a state more frightful than that in\n which Thou seest me at this moment.\n\n\n297.\n\n If I am drunk with old wine, ah, well! I am. If I am\n an infidel, fire worshipper or idolater, ah, well! that I am.\n Each group of individuals forms some idea on my account.\n But what matters it? I belong to myself and I\n am what I am.\n\n\n298.\n\n From the time since I am, I have not been for an instant\n without drunkenness. This night is that of _Kidr_\n and I this night am drunk; my lips are glued to that of\n the cup and, leaning my breast against the jar, I have\n held the neck of the flask in my hand until day.\n\n\n299.\n\n I am constantly attracted by the sight of limpid wine,\n my ears are ever attentive to the melodious sounds of\n the flute and of the _rubab_ [viol]. Oh, if the potter make\n a pitcher of my dust, would that that pitcher might constantly\n be full of wine!\n\n\n300.\n\n I understand all that annihilation and being apparently\n mean; I know the foundation of lofty thought. Ah, well!\n may all this knowledge be annihilated in me if I recognize\n in man a higher state than that of drunkenness!\n\n\n301.\n\n I indeed drink wine, but I commit no disorder. I\n stretch out my hand, but it is only to seize the cup.\n Would you know why I am an adorer of wine? It is\n because I do not wish to imitate you and be an adorer\n of myself.\n\n\n302.\n\n Are you discreet enough for me to tell you in a few\n words what man has been from the beginning? A miserable\n creature, moulded in the clay of chagrin. He has,\n for a few years, eaten his morsel here below, and then\n has raised his foot and gone away.\n\n\n303.\n\n It is the rim of the wine-jar which we have chosen for\n our place of prayer; it is in making use of wine that we\n are rendered worthy of the name of man; it is in the\n tavern that we get back the time lost in the mosque.\n\n\n304.\n\n It is we who are the true aim of universal creation; it\n is we who, in the eyes of wisdom, are the essence of divine\n regard. The circle of this world is like a ring and,\n without doubt, we are the jeweled signet of it.\n\n\n305.\n\n Drunkenness has transported us from our own misery\n here below to untold joys; from our humble condition, it\n has raised our heads to the skies. Nevertheless, behold\n us finally freed from our thraldom to the body! Behold\n us returned again to the earth, whence we came!\n\n\n306.\n\n If I have eaten during the days of Ramazan, do not\n believe I did it through inadvertence. The fatiguing\n hardships of the fast have so turned about my days and\n nights [the one for the other] that I have always believed\n in eating the morning repast.\n\n\n307.\n\n We have constantly heads overcome with wine; the\n presence of wine alone animates our society. Then\n leave off thy counsel, O ignorant penitent! [you see\n that] we are the adorers of wine, and that the lips of\n the object of our love are turned to our desires.\n\n\n308.\n\n This is the season of roses. Oh! I would now give\n rein to one of my desires. I would commit an act which\n infringes on the law of the Koran. Yea, for some days,\n in company of the fair with velvet and bright tinted cheeks\n spreading rose-colored wine over the green turf, I would\n transform the plain into a field of tulips.\n\n\n309.\n\n When in this world joy seizes us, when it gives to our\n complexion the brilliant lustre of the courser of the firmament\n [the sun], then I love to be in a green prairie\n in the midst of beauties with velvet cheeks, and partake\n with them of this sweet green hasheesh ere going again\n myself under this earth covered with green sod.\n\n\n310.\n\n Never have we tasted in happiness a drop of water\n without the hand of grief appearing to present to us its\n bitter beverage. Never have we dipped a piece of bread\n in salt without the salt returning to re-open half-healed\n wounds of the heart.\n\n\n311.\n\n Take care, take good care of making noise in a tavern!\n Pass the time there, but avoid all agitation. Sell the\n turban, sell the book [the Koran] to buy wine. Finally,\n let us pass through the _medresseh_ [school of the mosques],\n but let us not stop there.\n\n\n312.\n\n Every day, at dawn, I go to the tavern. There I give\n myself to the company of _kalendar_ hypocrites. O Thou,\n who art the master of secrets most concealed, give me\n faith, if Thou wishest me to apply myself to prayer.\n\n\n313.\n\n To the cares of this world, let us not accord as much\n value, even, as to a grain of barley; oh! let us be happy!\n If we have something for breakfast, we may have nothing\n for dinner; oh! let us be happy! Although nothing\n well cooked comes to us from the kitchen, let us not address\n our troublesome prayers to any one; oh! let us be\n happy!\n\n\n314.\n\n Not a single day do I feel myself free from the troublesome\n bonds of this world; not for a single instant do I\n breathe contented with my being. I have long served\n an apprenticeship to human vicissitudes, and I have not\n yet become master, either in that which concerns this\n world, or in what has to do with the other.\n\n\n315.\n\n We, in one hand, take the Koran; with the other we\n seize the cup: sometimes you see us carried away with\n that which is lawful, sometimes with what is prohibited.\n We, then, beneath this azure vault, are not completely\n infidel, or absolutely Musulman.\n\n\n316.\n\n Present a salutation on my account to Mostapha, and\n afterward say to him with all the deference due: O\n Lord Hachemite! why, in accordance with the law of the\n Koran, is the sharp _doug_ [whey] lawful, yet pure wine\n prohibited?\n\n\n317.\n\n Present a salutation on my part to Khayyam, and then\n say to him: O Khayyam! you are an ignorant man. When\n have I said that wine was prohibited? It is lawful for\n intelligent men; it is prohibited only to the ignorant.\n\n\n318.\n\n O thou that lusteth night and day for the goods of\n this world, dost thou not reflect upon the terrible day?\n Take into consideration thy last breath, come back to\n self, and see how time deals with others.\n\n\n319.\n\n O thou who art the summing up of the universal creation,\n cease for an instant to occupy thyself with gain or\n loss; take a cup of wine from the hand of the etern\n cupbearer, and free thyself thus altogether from the cares\n of this world and from those of the other!\n\n\n320.\n\n If you know to what to cling upon this walk around\n a circle without end, you must recognize two classes\n of men: those who understand perfectly its good and its\n bad side, and those who have no notion either of themselves\n or of things here below.\n\n\n321.\n\n Render light to my heart the weight of the vicissitudes\n of this world. Conceal from mortals my reprehensible actions.\n Render me happy to-day, and to-morrow make me\n what thou deemest worthy of Thy pity.\n\n\n322.\n\n For him who makes account of human ills, joy, sorrow,\n pain are all identical. The good and the bad of\n this world must one day end. What matters it whether\n all be torment or pleasure for us?\n\n\n323.\n\n Now that the nightingale has made its voice heard,\n think no longer of anything, but seize the ruby cup of\n wine from the hand of the drinkers; arise, come, for the\n rose blossoms are breathing out joy; avenge thyself,\n avenge thyself for two or three days for the torments\n thou hast endured.\n\n\n324.\n\n Notice this cup made of clay; it is possessed of a\n soul! They say a jasmine produces the flowers of the\n Judas-tree. But what do I say? The shining purity of\n wine is a cause of my error? Oh, no [it is not wine], it is\n diaphanous water shot with a liquid fire.\n\n\n325.\n\n Arise, leave the cares of this world which are fleeting;\n be joyous, pass gaily this life of a moment, for if the\n favors of heaven had been constant to others, this turn\n of joy would not have come to you.\n\n\n326.\n\n Listen to me, O thou who hast not seen old friends\n [of experience]! Vex not thyself with this Wheel of\n Heaven which has neither surface nor foundation: content\n thyself with what thou hast and, as a peaceable spectator,\n observe here below the various games to which men are\n destined.\n\n\n327.\n\n Employ all thy efforts to be agreeable to drinkers,\n and follow the good counsel of Khayyam. O friend!\n demolish the bases of prayer and of fasting, drink wine,\n steal if you will, but do good.\n\n\n328.\n\n Justice is the soul of the universe, the universe is the\n body. The angels are the wit of the body, the heavens\n the elements, the creatures in it are the members; behold\n here the eternal unity. The rest is only trumpery.\n\n\n329.\n\n Yesterday evening, in the tavern, the object of my\n heart that ravishes my soul [God] presented me a cup\n with a ravishing air of sincerity and a desire to please\n me, inviting me to drink. No, said I to him, I will\n not drink. Drink, he answered me, for the love of my\n heart.\n\n\n330.\n\n Do you wish the universe to submit itself to your will?\n Occupy yourself without ceasing in fortifying your soul.\n Share my mood, which consists in drinking wine and\n never taking to myself the cares of things here below.\n\n\n331.\n\n The sages who have well considered this world of\n dust, this sojourn of inconstancy from one end to the\n other, see nothing in it agreeable but wine in ruby\n cups and beautiful countenances.\n\n\n332.\n\n Thanks to the iniquity of this Wheel of Heaven which\n resembles a mirror, thanks to the periodic motion of\n time which accords its favors only to the most abject,\n my cheeks, hollowed like a cup, are bathed in tears; but,\n like a flask, my heart is full of blood.\n\n\n333.\n\n Yesterday [before day], in company with a charming\n friend and a cup of rose-colored wine, I was seated on\n the border of a brook. Before me stood the cup, that\n shell, of which the pearl [contained in the cup] shed\n such a brilliant light that the herald of the sun, awaking\n with a start, announced the Dawn.\n\n\n334.\n\n Forget the day which has been cut off from thy existence;\n disturb not thyself about to-morrow, which has not\n yet come; rest not upon that which is or that which\n is no more; live happily one instant and throw not thy\n life to the winds.\n\n\n335.\n\n Art not ashamed to give thyself to corruption?--to\n neglect thus both what is commanded and what is forbidden?\n Even if you succeed in appropriating all the\n goods of the earth to yourself, what can you do with\n them except to abandon them in your turn?\n\n\n336.\n\n I have seen a man betake himself to sterile soil. He\n was neither a heretic nor a Musulman; he had neither\n riches nor religion, nor God, nor truth, nor law, nor certitude.\n Who in this world or in the other would have\n so much courage?\n\n\n337.\n\n One host of men is pondering upon belief, or on the\n faith; others are hovering between doubt and certainty.\n But suddenly behind the veil there's one will cry: O\n ignorant ones! the way that you seek is neither here\n nor there!\n\n\n338.\n\n There hangs in the heavens a bull called Parwin\n [Pleiades], and another bull is underneath the earth. To\n the eyes of intelligence or those who live in certainty,\n I show a herd of asses placed between two beeves.\n\n\n339.\n\n Some said to me: Drink less of wine. What reason\n have you for not giving it up? The reason that I give\n is first the face of my friend [God] and secondly the\n morning cup. Be just and tell me, Is it possible to give\n a more luminous reason?\n\n\n340.\n\n If I possessed in the heavens the power which God\n exercises there, I would destroy the people of this world,\n and others I would make in my own way, so that man,\n freed [from the bonds of superstition], could attain here\n below the desires of his heart.\n\n\n341.\n\n My poor heart, full of grief and folly, has not been\n able to free itself from drunkenness where passion for\n my well-beloved has plunged it. Oh! the day when the\n wine of this love was distributed, my portion was, without\n doubt, drawn from the blood of my heart!\n\n\n342.\n\n To drink wine and seek beautiful faces is wiser than\n to practise hypocrisy and apparent devotion. It is evident\n that if there exist a Hell for lovers and drinkers,\n no one would wish for Paradise.\n\n\n343.\n\n Scorn the words of coquettish women, but accept limpid\n wine from the hand of those whose mien is irreproachable.\n You know that all those who have made their appearance\n in this world are partly of one kind and partly\n of the other, and it is not given to any to see a single\n one that may come back.\n\n\n344.\n\n It is not necessary to soften and disgrace a joyous heart\n by sorrow, to break under the stones of torment our\n moments of delight. As no one is able to tell what is\n to be, what is necessary is some wine, a beloved mistress\n [the Divinity], and repose according to our desires.\n\n\n345.\n\n Yes, it is beautiful to enjoy good fame; it is shameful\n to complain of the injustice of heaven; it is better to\n become drunk with the juice of the grape, than to be\n puffed up with false devotion.\n\n\n346.\n\n O God! be pitiful to my poor imprisoned heart; show\n pity to my bosom, susceptible to so much sorrow; pardon\n my feet which lead me to the tavern; pardon my hand\n which seizes the cup!\n\n\n347.\n\n O God! deliver me from calculating, more or less, upon\n the things of this world; make me preoccupied with Thee,\n and free me from myself. While I have my sound reason\n good and bad are known to me; render me drunk and\n free me from this knowledge of good and bad.\n\n\n348.\n\n This Wheel of Heaven runs after my death and thine,\n my friend\u00b7 it conspires against my soul and thine.\n Come, seat thyself upon the turf, for, indeed, small time\n remains to us before new turf shall germinate from my\n dust and from thine.\n\n\n349.\n\n When we shall have lost my soul and thine, they will\n place bricks upon thy tomb and mine. Then, in order\n to cover other tombs with bricks, they will throw my dust\n and thine into the kiln of the brick-maker.\n\n\n350.\n\n In this castle which by its splendor rivals the heavens,\n this castle to which sovereigns succeeded with delight, we\n have seen a turtledove seated on the ruined battlements\n crying: Kou, kou, kou, kou [Where? Where?].\n\n\n351.\n\n What advantage has our coming into this world produced?\n What advantage will result from our departure?\n What remains to us of the heap of hopes that we have\n conceived. Where is the smoke of all the pure men who\n under the celestial fire have been consumed and become\n dust?\n\n\n352.\n\n O Thou whose lips secrete the water of life, permit\n not those of the cup to come and kiss them! [Oh, if\n Thou shouldst permit it], may I lose the name of man\n if I am not soaked in the blood of the flask, for what is\n it, this cup, to dare to touch its lips to Thine?\n\n\n353.\n\n I am such as Thy power has made me. I have lived a\n hundred years filled with Thy benevolence and benefits.\n I would like still a hundred years to commit sin and to\n see if the sum of my faults outweighed Thy pity.\n\n\n354.\n\n Now take thy cup, carry away the gourd, O Charm of\n my Heart! and go, explore the plains, the borders of\n the brooks, for indeed idols, like to the moon in the light\n of their beautiful countenances, have a hundred times\n been transformed into cups, a hundred times have they\n become gourds.\n\n\n355.\n\n It is we who buy old wine and new wine, and it is we\n who sell the world for two grains of barley. Know where\n you will go after death? Bring me some wine and go\n where you will.\n\n\n356.\n\n Who is the man who here below has not committed\n sin; can you say? Had he not committed it, could he\n have lived, can you tell? If, because I do evil, you\n punish me for evil, what then is the difference between\n you and me, can you say?\n\n\n357.\n\n Oh! where is that one whose lips are of rubies, where\n that precious stone of Bedekhchan? Where is that wine\n full of perfume which gives repose to the soul? They\n say that the religion of Islam prohibits it; drink, friend,\n and have no fear, for where do you see Islam?\n\n\n358.\n\n Best is it to abstain from all that is not joyful; and\n best it is to receive the cup from the hands of odalisques\n shut up in the palaces of the princes; but best of all is\n drunkenness, indifference to the Kalendars, forgetfulness\n of self. A mouthful of wine, finally, is worth more\n than all that exists in the space between Mah and\n Mahi.\n\n\n359.\n\n For thee, that which is best is to flee from the seeking\n of knowledge and devotion; to finger the tresses of\n thy ravishing friend; to pour into the cup the blood\n of the vine ere time has spilled thine own.\n\n\n360.\n\n O friend! be in repose amidst human vicissitudes; disturb\n not thyself in vain because of the march of time.\n When the envelope of thy being shall be torn in tatters,\n what matters what thou hast done, what thou hast said,\n or how defiled thou mayest be?\n\n\n361.\n\n O thou who hast not done good, but who hast done\n evil, and who hast afterward sought refuge in the Divinity,\n guard thyself from relying upon pardon; for he who\n has done nothing resembles no more him who has sinned\n than he who has sinned resembles him who has done\n nothing!\n\n\n362.\n\n Count upon life not longer than the sixtieth year.\n Place thy foot in no direction without being overcome\n with wine. As long as thy skull hath not been made a\n pitcher, go always on thy way, nor take the wine-gourd\n from thy shoulder or the wine-cup from thy hand.\n\n\n363.\n\n This firmament is a porringer overturned upon our\n heads. Wise men, thereat, humble and unpresumptuous\n are. But see the friendship which obtains between the\n cup and the flask. Lip against lip are they, and twixt\n them ever flows the blood.\n\n\n364.\n\n I have swept the sill of the tavern with my hair. Yes,\n I have given up reflecting upon the good and the bad\n in this world and the next. I saw them, like two bowls,\n rolling in a ditch, when I was sleeping overcome with\n wine, and I no more occupied myself with them than if\n I had seen a grain of barley rolling along.\n\n\n365.\n\n The drop of water began to weep on being separated\n from the ocean. The ocean began to laugh, saying to\n it: It is we who are all; in truth, there is no other God\n beside us, and if we are separated, it is only by a simple\n point almost invisible.\n\n\n366.\n\n How long shall I trouble myself with the care of knowing\n whether I possess or do not possess--if I ought or\n ought not to pass life gaily? Fill ever the cup of wine,\n O cupbearer! for I do not know whether I shall breathe\n out this breath that I am actually breathing or not.\n\n\n367.\n\n Become not a prey to sorrow in this world of iniquity;\n recall not to thy soul the memory of those who are no\n longer here; give up thy heart only to a friend with sweet\n lips and fairy-like in form and never be deprived of\n wine, or throw life to the winds.\n\n\n368.\n\n How long will you speak to me of the mosque, of\n prayer and fasting? Go rather to the tavern and intoxicate\n yourself, and even for that ask alms. O Khayyam!\n drink wine, drink; for this earth of which thou\n art composed will be made into cups, bowls, and pitchers.\n\n\n369.\n\n So in this palace of brief being, you ought, O wise man,\n to give yourself up to rose-colored wine. Then each\n atom of your dust that the wind carries away will fall\n on the sill of the tavern, all saturate with wine.\n\n\n370.\n\n Note how the zephyrs have made the roses bloom!\n Note how their fragrant beauty glads the nightingale!\n Go, then, repose in the shadow of these flowers, for\n very speedily they depart from the earth and very often\n ne'er return again.\n\n\n371.\n\n Behold us re-united in the midst of lovers; behold us\n freed from the pain which time inflicts; having emptied\n the cup of His love, behold us all free, all tranquil, all\n o'ercome with wine.\n\n\n372.\n\n Suppose that you have lived in this world in accordance\n with your desires; ah, well! after that? Think to\n yourself that the end of your days has arrived; ah, well!\n after that? Admitting that you have lived for a hundred\n years surrounded by all that your heart could desire,\n imagine in your turn, that you have another hundred\n years to live; ah, well! after that?\n\n\n373.\n\n Do you know how the cypress and the lily have acquired\n the name for freedom which they enjoy among men?\n It is because one has ten tongues but remains mute, and\n the other possesses a hundred hands and keeps them all\n empty.\n\n\n374.\n\n O cupbearer! put into my hand some of that delicious\n wine, some of that juice attractive as a charming idol,\n some of that nectar, in short, which like a chain whose\n links, turning and returning upon each other, hold fools\n and sages alike in sweet captivity.\n\n\n375.\n\n O regret! that life should be passed in pure loss! How\n lawless all our eating and how defiled our bodies! I\n have the blame, O God! of not having done what Thou\n hast commanded. What will come to me for having done\n what Thou hast not commanded?\n\n\n376.\n\n Fret not thyself on account of the inconstancy of\n this world; seek wine and draw near to thy caressing\n mistress, for, thou seest that he whom his mother brought\n forth to-day to-morrow disappears from the earth--to-morrow\n returns to annihilation.\n\n\n377.\n\n I can renounce all else, but wine never; for I have the\n means of making amends for all else, but of wine, never.\n O God! could one like me become a Musulman and renounce\n old wine? Never.\n\n\n378.\n\n We are all lovers, all drunkards, all adorers of wine.\n We are all united in the tavern, having banished far\n from us all that is good, all that is evil, all reflection\n and revery. Oh! expect not intelligence or reason of us,\n for we are all overcome with wine.\n\n\n379.\n\n It is we who have confidence in the divine goodness,\n who have shaken off the ideas of obedience and sin; for\n where Thy benevolence exists, O God, he who has done\n nothing is equal to him who has done something.\n\n\n380.\n\n Thou hast imprinted on our being, O God, such singular\n phantasma of inconsequence, and hast made to rise such\n strange phenomena. Myself cannot be better than I am,\n for Thou hast taken me as I am from out creation's\n crucible.\n\n\n381.\n\n We have violated all the vows that we have made; we\n have closed upon us the door of what is called good and\n what is called bad. Then blame me not if you see me\n committing senseless deeds, for we are drunk with the\n wine of love, and all are drunk as we.\n\n\n382.\n\n A mouthful of old wine is of more worth than a new\n empire. The wise man will reject all that is not wine.\n A cup of this nectar is a hundred times preferable to\n the kingdom of Feridoun. The lid which covers the wine-jar\n is more precious than the diadem of Kai-Khosrou.\n\n\n383.\n\n O my heart! thou canst not penetrate the enigmatical\n secrets of the heavens; thou canst never reach the culminating\n point to which intrepid sages have attained.\n Be content, then, to organize a Paradise here below, in\n making daily use of cup and wine, for wilt thou ever reach\n that future Paradise? Thou never wilt.\n\n\n384.\n\n Those who are gone before us, O cupbearer! are imbedded\n in the dust of pride. Go, drink wine; go, listen\n to the truth that I tell you: All those who have gone\n ahead are but as the wind; know it well, O cupbearer!\n\n\n385.\n\n From afar has appeared a filthy shape. It is said that\n its body was covered with a shirt made of the smoke\n of Hell. It was neither a man nor a woman. It has\n broken our flask and spilled upon the earth the ruby wine\n it contained, glorifying itself at having done a deed worthy\n of a man.\n\n\n386.\n\n O my heart! when thou art admitted to sit at the banquet\n of this idol [the Divinity], it is after thou hast gone\n out of thyself in order to re-enter thyself again. When\n thou hast tasted a mouthful of the wine of annihilation,\n thou art entirely separate from those that are and from\n those that are no more.\n\n\n387.\n\n Yes, I have found myself in close acquaintance with\n wine, with drunkenness. But why does the world blame\n me for it? Oh! would to God that all which is illegal\n might produce drunkenness! For then never here below\n should I have seen a shadow of sound reason.\n\n\n388.\n\n Thou hast broken my pitcher of wine, my God! Thou\n hast shut upon me the portals of joy, my God! Thou\n hast poured upon earth my limpid wine, my God! Oh!\n [would that my mouth were filled with earth!] couldst\n Thou have been drunk, my God?\n\n\n389.\n\n O thou who art the result of the four [elements] and\n the seven [heavens], I see you in perplexity amongst\n these four and seven. Drink wine, for, as I have said\n to you more than four times, you will return no more;\n once departed, you are gone indeed.\n\n\n390.\n\n On one hand, Thou hast raised a hundred ambushes\n about us; on the other, Thou sayest to us: If ye put\n foot there, ye shall be caught by death. It is Thou who\n spreadest snares, and whoever falls there, Thou bringest\n to a stand! Thou givest him to death and callest him\n rebel!\n\n\n391.\n\n O Thou whose mysterious essence is impenetrable to\n intelligence, Thou who carest no more for our obedience\n than our faults, I am drunk with sin, but the confidence\n that I have in Thee renders it right for me. Know\n Thou, that I count upon Thy pity.\n\n\n392.\n\n If this world's things were only based on show, oh!\n then each day would be a feast. Oh! were it not for\n these vain threats, each could attain below the aim of his\n desires, without a fear.\n\n\n393.\n\n O Wheel of Heaven! thou fillest constantly my heart\n with woe. Thou killest in me the germ of joy, with\n water ladening the air which, would breathe, and changest\n into mud the water that I drink.\n\n\n394.\n\n O my heart! if thou free thyself from the grief inherent\n in matter, thou shalt become a soul in all its purity; thou\n shalt mount to the heavens, thy residence shall be the\n firmament. Oh! how thou shouldst suffer from shame\n at inhabiting the earth!\n\n\n395.\n\n O potter! be attentive, if thou possessest sound reason!\n How long wilt thou abase man in moulding his clay? It\n is the finger of Feridoun, the hand of Kai-Khosrou which\n you thus put upon your wheel.\n\n\n396.\n\n O rose! thou art the face of some young ravishing\n fair! O wine! thou art the ruby whose brightness joys\n my soul! O fateful fortune! each instant thou appearest\n more strange to me, and nevertheless I seem to know\n thee.\n\n\n397.\n\n From the cookery of this world, thou only absorbest\n the smoke. How long, plunged in the search for being\n and annihilation, wilt thou be the prey of sorrow? This\n world contains only loss for those who attach themselves\n to it. Now disregard this loss, and all for thee will\n benefit become.\n\n\n398.\n\n As for us, let us not try to torment men in their\n sleep; let us refrain from making them utter at midnight\n the lamentable cry _O my God! O my God!_ [as others\n do]. Rest not upon riches or beauty, for the one will\n take wings in the night, and the other, in the night also,\n will be ravished.\n\n\n399.\n\n If from the commencement Thou hadst wished to make\n me known to _myself_, why later, hast Thou separated me\n from this _myself_? If from the first day Thy intention\n was to abandon me, why hast Thou thrown me, all\n amazed, into the midst of the world?\n\n\n400.\n\n Oh! would to God that there existed some place of repose--that\n the road we follow had some settled end!\n Would God that, after a hundred thousand years, we\n could conceive the hope of one new birth of heart upon\n the earth as the green turf is born again!\n\n\n401.\n\n While I was drawing a horoscope in the book of love,\n suddenly, from the burning heart of a wise man came\n these words. Happy is he who entertains in his dwelling\n a friend as beautiful as the moon, and who has in prospect\n a night as long as a year!\n\n\n402.\n\n The constant sequence of springtime and autumn makes\n the leaves of our existence disappear. Drink wine, my\n friend, for sages have well said that grief in this world\n is a poison and its antidote is wine.\n\n\n403.\n\n O my heart! drink of wine, drink of it in a garden\n and enjoy the presence of thy friend [the Divinity]; renounce\n hypocrisy and show. Is it the doctrine of Ahmed\n you follow? In that case, draw from the fountain-head\n a cup of wine into the bowl which Ali, in his round of\n cupbearing, shall serve.\n\n\n404.\n\n But yesterday, at eve, I broke a china cup against a\n stone. I was drunk when committing this senseless act.\n This cup seemed to say to me: \u00abI have been like thee;\n thou wilt, in thy turn, be like me.\u00bb\n\n\n405.\n\n The flowers are in blossom, O cupbearer! bring wine.\n Leave thy acts of worship, O cupbearer! Ere the angel\n of death put a watch upon us, come, and with a cup of\n ruby wine in hand, let us rejoice while yet there are\n some days with the sweet presence of the friend [the\n Divinity].\n\n\n406.\n\n Arise, get off thy bed, O cupbearer! and pour the\n limpid wine. Before they yet make pitchers of our\n skulls, pour out some wine from pitcher into bowl, O\n cupbearer!\n\n\n407.\n\n This hypocrisy [which I everywhere see], O cupbearer!\n crushes my heart with weariness. Arise, and gaily bring\n me wine, O cupbearer! and to procure it, put in pawn\n the prayer-rug and the turban. Perhaps my arguments\n will then rest upon a solid basis.\n\n\n408.\n\n Examine thyself, if thou art intelligent, and observe\n what thou hast brought in the beginning and what thou\n wilt carry away at the end. Thou sayest that thou dost\n not drink because one must die. Whether thou drinkest\n friend, or dost not drink, thou needs must die.\n\n\n409.\n\n Open the door, for it is only Thou who canst open it;\n show me the way, for it is only Thou who canst show a\n way of safety. I will give my hand to none of those who\n wish to lead me, for all are perishable, and only Thou\n eternal.\n\n\n410.\n\n All that you tell me emanates from hatred [O mullah]!\n You never cease to treat me as an atheist, a man\n without religion. I am convinced of that which I am,\n and I avow it; and should I be right, is it for you to\n lecture me thus?\n\n\n411.\n\n Resign yourself to grief if you would find a remedy,\n and do not complain of your suffering if you would cure\n it. In poverty, be thankful to Providence, if you wish\n some day to have riches for your portion.\n\n\n412.\n\n I have seen a wise man in the house of a drunken man\n at evening. I asked him if he could give me some news\n of the absent. He answered me: Drink wine, friend, for\n many like you have gone out but have never returned.\n\n\n413.\n\n I seek a flask of ruby wine, a book of verse, a momentary\n peace in life and bread enough. And if with\n these, my friend, in some lone spot with thee I could\n repose, 'twould be a happiness above a Sultan's regal joy.\n\n\n414.\n\n How long these arguments upon the five and the four,\n O cupbearer? In comprehending one, O cupbearer! it is\n difficult to grasp a hundred thousand. We are all of earth,\n O cupbearer! strike the harp: we are all as the wind,\n bring the wine, O cupbearer!\n\n\n415.\n\n How long will you speak of Yassin and Berat, O cupbearer?\n Give me a treatise upon the tavern, O cupbearer!\n The day that it is closed will be for me the night of\n Berat, O cupbearer!\n\n\n416.\n\n While you have in your body bones, veins, and nerves,\n place not your foot outside the limits of your destiny.\n Yield never to your enemy, be that enemy Rustum,\n son of Zal; accept nothing which puts you under obligation\n to a friend, be that friend Hatim-tai.\n\n\n417.\n\n You may indeed be taken with lips tinted with the\n color of the ruby, you may indeed appreciate the cup of\n wine, you may indeed call for the noise of the drum, the\n sound of the harp and of the flute, but these are only\n trifles. God is my witness, while you do not break the\n bonds of this dark world, you nothing are.\n\n\n418.\n\n Bestir yourself, since you are under this tyrannic vault;\n drink wine, since you are in this world, a seat of woe.\n And, from beginning to the end, being only earth, act\n like a man who is upon the earth, and not as if thou\n wert beneath the earth.\n\n\n419.\n\n Since you all secrets know, my friend, why be a prey\n to so many vain torments? Suppose things do not fall\n in touch with your desires, you can at least be gay while\n you still breathe.\n\n\n420.\n\n Everywhere I cast my eyes I believe I see the sod of\n Paradise and the brook of Koocer. They say the field\n outside of Hell is transformed into a celestial sojourn.\n Rest then in that celestial place near some celestial fair.\n\n\n421.\n\n Follow no other way than that which the Kalendar\n follows; seek no other place than the tavern; occupy\n yourself only with wine, song and the friend [the Divinity];\n place in your hand a cup of wine, upon your back\n a gourd; drink, O dear object of my heart! drink and\n speak not of foolish things.\n\n\n422.\n\n Do you wish life to rest upon a rock? Do you wish\n life for some time free to be from grief? Dwell for one\n instant without drinking wine, then at each breath you'll\n find a new attraction in existence.\n\n\n423.\n\n In this world, this house of pilferers, it is useless to\n count upon a friend. Listen to the counsel I give you,\n and confide it to no one. Bear your suffering and seek\n no remedy here, be happy in your sorrows and try not to\n divide them with another.\n\n\n424.\n\n There are two things which are the foundation of wisdom\n and which ought to be put among the number of the\n most important unproclaimed revelations. Not to eat of\n anything which eats of other things, and to keep oneself\n unsullied by all that lives.\n\n\n425.\n\n How is it that at the commencement of springtime the\n verjuice of the vine is sharp? And afterwards, how\n does it become so sweet? And then how do we find\n the wine so bitter? If one makes viols of a piece of\n wood by means of a curv\u00e8d knife, who would say on\n seeing it that a flute could be fashioned by the same\n means?\n\n\n426.\n\n Know you why, at the break of day, the early-rising\n cock makes its voice heard each moment? It is to tell\n you, through the mirror of the morning, that one more\n night has slipped away from your existence, and that\n you are still in ignorance.\n\n\n427.\n\n Give me some of this ruby wine, tinted like the tulip.\n Pour from the neck of the flask the pure blood it contains,\n for, to-day I can see, outside this cup of wine, no\n friend whose inner man is pure.\n\n\n428.\n\n Pour me, O cupbearer! some wine colored like the\n flowers of the Judas-tree, pour, O cupbearer! for grief\n comes to oppress my soul; pour for me the nectar, for\n it is possible that in making me a stranger to myself, it\n will free me one instant from the vicissitudes of this\n world.\n\n\n429.\n\n Thy cup, O my cupbearer! contains liquid rubies; give\n some to my soul, O cupbearer! Let it reflect that precious\n stone; put in my hand, O cupbearer, this incomparable\n cup, for through this I will give new life unto my soul.\n\n\n430.\n\n In philosophy, if you are an Aristotle or a Bouzourdj-mehr;\n in power, if you are some Roman emperor or some\n potentate of China, drink ever, drink wine from the cup\n of Djem, for the end of all is the tomb. Oh! though you\n are Bahram himself, the coffin is your last sojourn.\n\n\n431.\n\n I entered the studio of a potter. I watched him work\n at his wheel, actively occupied in moulding the necks\n and handles of pitchers, forming some of them like the\n heads of kings, others like the feet of beggars.\n\n\n432.\n\n Go, choose bliss, if you are wise, and finally you may\n be able to drink wine from the hand of the drinkers of\n eternity, but you are one of the ignorant and joy is not\n in you, it is not given to every ignorant one to taste\n the sweets that ignorance gives.\n\n\n433.\n\n O idol, while you are on your journey through this\n world, draw from the fountain-head into the pitcher, draw\n this salutary wine and, ere the potter makes another\n pitcher of my dust and thine, fill out a cup, drink it\n and pass me one.\n\n\n434.\n\n Be attentive, friend, and while thou still art able, lighten\n the grief of a loving heart, for this kingdom of grace\n that now thou hast will not last always, but, like so many\n others thou shalt unexpectedly be called.\n\n\n435.\n\n Before you are made drunk by the cup of death, before\n the revolutions of time are full behind you, endeavor\n to make a foundation here below, for you will profit\n nothing by going away empty-handed.\n\n\n436.\n\n It is Thou who disposest of the lot of the living and\n of the dead. It is Thou who governest this unruly Wheel\n of the Heavens. Although I am bad, I am only Thy\n slave, Thou art my master. Who then is guilty here\n below? Art Thou not the Creator of all?\n\n\n437.\n\n O my King! how can such a man as I, finding himself\n in the season of roses, in the midst of joyous society,\n surrounded by wine, by dancers, remain a passive spectator?\n Oh! to find oneself in a garden with a flask of\n wine and a lute are things preferable to Paradise with\n its houris and its Koocer.\n\n\n438.\n\n See the clearness of the light, the sparkle of the wine\n and of the moon, O cupbearer! See the ravishing\n beauty of the rose's face, like a shining ruby, O cupbearer!\n Recall nothing of what belongs to the earth\n to this heart that burns like fire, throw it not to the\n wind, but bring wine, O cupbearer!\n\n\n439.\n\n O limpid wine, wine full of sheen! Fool that I am, I'd\n drink thee in such quantity, that all perceiving me from\n far would my identity confound with thine, and say to\n me: O master wine! tell me, whence do you come?\n\n\n440.\n\n Be welcome, Thou, who art the repose of my soul!\n Thou art here, and nevertheless I cannot believe my\n eyes. Oh! for the love of God, and not for the love\n of my heart, drink, drink of wine, drink to the point\n when I can doubt that it is Thou.\n\n\n441.\n\n A Sheikh said to a prostitute: You are in wine.\n Each instant you are taken in the toils of law. She\n answered him: O Sheikh, I am all that you say; but\n are you what you seem to be?\n\n\n442.\n\n [I have already said] the entire world, like a bowl,\n was rolling in a hollow which, when I slept dead drunk,\n I noticed no more than if I saw a grain of barley rolling\n along. Yesterday, at evening, I put myself in pawn at\n the tavern for a cup of wine. The wine merchant never\n ceased to say: O excellent security that here I hold.\n\n\n443.\n\n Sometimes Thou art concealed, showing Thyself to\n none; sometimes Thou revealest Thyself in all things\n created. It is for Thyself, without doubt, and for Thy\n pleasure that Thou hast produced these marvellous effects,\n for Thou art at once the maker of the spectacle we see\n and Thine own beholder.\n\n\n444.\n\n Should you come to people the whole earth, that action\n would not make a saddened soul rejoice. It would be\n more to thy advantage to enslave a free man, through\n thy gentleness, than to give freedom to a thousand slaves.\n\n\n445.\n\n They tell you not to drink, that otherwise you shall\n become a prey to torment, and that in the day of\n reckoning you will burn as fire. That may be, but the\n day in which wine makes you joyous is more precious\n than the goods of this world and those of the next.\n\n\n446.\n\n If your own satisfaction consists in casting grief into a\n heart free from all care, you could, friend, make mourning\n with your wisdom during your whole life. Go, be\n unhappy, then, for you are a person strangely ignorant.\n\n\n447.\n\n Each time you can procure two _mens_ of wine, drink\n them, in every circumstance, in all society wherever you\n may be; for he who does is freed from scornful looks\n or gestures of disdain.\n\n\n448.\n\n With a loaf of wheaten bread, two _mens_ of wine and\n meat in plenty, and seated in some desert spot with\n some young beauty decked with cheeks tinted with the\n tulip's blush, man hath a joy not given to any Sultan to\n procure.\n\n\n449.\n\n If in a city you acquire renown, you are thought to\n be the most wicked of men; if you retire into a corner,\n they regard you as a conspirator. What then is best,\n were you Elias or Saint Jude, is to live in the way of\n knowing none, and being known by none.\n\n\n450.\n\n If I were free and were allowed to use my will, if I\n were free from the torments of destiny and unembarrassed\n by any sentiment of the good and bad in this\n world where disorder resides, oh! I would prefer not\n to have lived here, not to have existed, than to be\n forced to go away!\n\n\n451.\n\n Drink wine, my friend, for see it makes the perspiration\n flow upon the cheeks of the beauties of Rhei, the\n most beautiful creatures in the world! Oh! how long\n shall I repeat it to you? Yes, I have broken the\n bonds of all my vows. Is it not better to break the\n bonds of a thousand vows than to break a pitcher of\n wine?\n\n\n452.\n\n We have some wine, O cupbearer! Let us rejoice in\n the presence of the well-beloved [the Divinity] and in\n the noise of the morning. Expect not on our part the\n renunciation of Nessouh, O cupbearer! How long shall\n I speak to you of the story of Noe, O cupbearer?\n Bring, bring me happily the repose of my soul [the\n wine], O cupbearer!\n\n\n453.\n\n I see neither the means of joining myself to Thee,\n nor the possibility of living for the space of a breath\n separated from Thee. I have not the courage to drive\n out the torments I endure. Oh! how difficult my plight,\n how strange my grief, how exquisite my pain!\n\n\n454.\n\n Now is the time to drink the morning wine; the noise\n makes itself heard, O cupbearer! Now we are ready, O\n cupbearer! here is the wine, behold the tavern. Could a\n moment like this be for prayer? Silence, O cupbearer!\n Leave thy discourse upon tradition and upon devotion;\n drink, O cupbearer!\n\n\n455.\n\n Here is the noise of the morning, O idol, whose coming\n brings happiness! Chant the refrain and bring the wine;\n for [you know it], the constant sequence of these months\n of Tir and Di have overturned upon the earth a thousand\n potentates like Djem, a hundred thousand like to Kai.\n\n\n456.\n\n Guard thyself from being coarse in the eyes of all\n drinkers, guard thyself from acquiring a bad reputation\n before the sages, and drink wine; for, whether you drink\n or not, if you belong to the fire of Hell, you would not\n know how to enter Paradise.\n\n\n457.\n\n I wish that God would reconstruct the world, I wish\n that He would actually reconstruct it and that I might see\n Him at the work. I wish that He would blot my name\n from the register of life, or that out of His mysterious\n treasure, He would swell the joys of my existence.\n\n\n458.\n\n O God! open to me the door of Thy benefits. Make\n me come to my fortune finally, that I may not be beholden\n to Thy creatures. Oh! render me drunk with\n wine, to the point where, freed from all knowledge,\n the torments of my head may disappear.\n\n\n459.\n\n O thou who hast been burned and burned again, and\n now deservest life anew! thou who art worthy only of adding\n fuel to the fire of Hell! how long wilt thou pray the\n Divinity to pardon Omar? What relation exists between\n thee and God? What audacity drives thee to ask Him to\n exercise His pity?\n\n\n460.\n\n As for me, without limpid wine I cannot live; my body\n is a burden which I cannot carry without drinking of the\n juice of the vine. Oh! might I be the slave of that\n delicious moment when the cupbearer said to me: Another\n cup! and that I had no longer strength to take it!\n\n\n461.\n\n There remains to me still a breath of life, thanks to\n the care of the cupbearer. But discord reigns still among\n men. I know that there only remains to me about a _men_\n of wine from last evening, but I am ignorant of the\n space of time that is still left me to live.\n\n\n462.\n\n Take a man who possesses bread sufficient to live upon\n for two days, who can draw a drop of fresh water into\n a cracked pitcher, why should such a man be commanded\n by another who is of no more worth, or why should he\n serve one who should be his equal?\n\n\n463.\n\n Since the day when Venus and the moon appeared in\n the sky, no one has seen anything here below preferable\n to ruby wine. I am truly astonished at the wine-merchants,\n for how can they buy anything superior to\n that which they sell?\n\n\n464.\n\n For those endowed with knowledge and virtue, who\n through their wisdom have become as torches to their\n disciples, even those have not progressed beyond this\n night profound. They have left some fables and returned\n to death's long sleep.\n\n\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[1] About 1272 A.D.\n\n[2] This title is hard to determine without any acquaintance with the\ncontents of the pamphlet.\n\n[3] C.H.A. Bjerregaard in \u00abThe Sufi Omar\u00bb. J.F. Taylor & Co., N.Y.,\n1902.\n\n[4] Some of Omar's Rubaiyat warn us of the danger of greatness, the\ninstability of fortune, and while advocating charity to all men,\nrecommending us to be too intimate with none. Attar makes Nizam ul Mulk\nuse the very words of his friend Omar [Rub. xxviii.], \u00abWhen Nizam ul\nMulk was in the Agony (of Death) he said, 'Oh God! I am passing away in\nthe hand of the Wind.'\u00bb\n\n[5] Though all these, like our Smiths, Archers, Millers, Fletchers,\netc., may simply regain the surname of an hereditary calling.\n\n[6] \u00ab_Philosophe Musulman qui a v\u00eacu en Odeur de Saintet\u00e9 dans sa\nReligion, vers la Fin du premier et le Commencement du second Si\u00e8cle_,\u00bb\nno part of which, except the \u00ab_Philosophe_\u00bb can apply to our Khayyam.\n\n[7] The Rashness of the Words, according to D'Herbelot, consisted in\nbeing so opposed to those in the Koran: \u00abNo Man knows where he shall\ndie.\u00bb--This story of Omar reminds me of another so naturally--and when\none remembers how wide of his humble mark the noble sailor aimed--so\npathetically told by Captain Cook--not by Doctor Hawkesworth--in his\nSecond Voyage (i. 374). When leaving Ulietea, \u00abOreo's last request was\nfor me to return. When he saw he could not obtain that promise, he asked\nthe name of my _Marai_ (burying-place). As strange a question as this\nwas, I hesitated not a moment to tell him 'Stepney'; the parish in which\nI live when in London. I was made to repeat it several times over till\nthey could pronounce it; and then '_Stepney Marai no Toote_' was echoed\nthrough an hundred mouths at once. I afterwards found the same question\nhad been put to Mr. Forster by a man on shore; but he gave a different,\nand indeed more proper answer, by saying, 'No man who used the sea could\nsay where he should be buried.'\u00bb\n\n[8] \u00abSince this paper was written\u00bb (adds the Reviewer in a note), \u00abwe\nhave met with a Copy of a very rare Edition, printed at Calcutta in\n1836. This contains 438 Tetrastichs, with an Appendix containing 54\nothers not found in some MSS.\u00bb\n\n[9] Professor Cowell.\n\n[10] This was written in 1868.\n\n[11] Perhaps he would have edited the Poems himself some years ago. He\nmay now as little approve of my version on one side, as of M. Nicolas'\ntheory on the other.\n\n[12] A note to Quatrain 234 admits that, however clear the mystical\nmeaning of such Images must be to Europeans, they are not quoted without\n\u00ab_rougissant_\u00bb even by laymen in Persia--\u00ab_Quant aux termes de tendresse\nqui commencent ce quatrain, comme tant d'autres dans ce recueil, nos\nlecteurs, habitu\u00e9s maintenant \u00e0 l'\u00e9tranget\u00e9 des expressions si souvent\nemploy\u00e9es par Kh\u00e8yam pour rendre ses pens\u00e9es sur l'amour divin, et \u00e0 la\nsingularit\u00e9 de ses images trop orientales, d'une sensualit\u00e9 quelquefois\nr\u00e9voltante, n'auront pas de peine \u00e0 se persuader qu'il s'agit de la\nDivinit\u00e9, bien que cette conviction soit vivement discut\u00e9e par les\nmoullahs musulmans et m\u00eame par beaucoup de la\u00efques, qui rougissent\nv\u00e9ritablement d'une pareille licence de leur compatriote \u00e0 l'\u00e9gard des\nchoses spirituelles._\u00bb\n\n[13] _Two Years' Travel in Persia_, etc., i. 165.\n\n[14] The precise degree to which FitzGerald himself deemed it expedient\nto adhere to his original may be gathered by referring to quatrains of\nhis which he has himself declared to be renderings of particular and\nisolated ruba'iyat.\n\n[15] These references are to other MSS. and printed texts and\ntranslations in which the cited quatrain is represented. I say advisedly\n\u00abrepresented,\u00bb as the different texts differ a good deal. Often when a\nquatrain is repeated in the same text, variations may be found in it.\nThe general scope of these variations may be appreciated by a glance at\nthe notes to my translation of the Ouseley MS. (O.). I do not propose to\ndeal with them here, excepting where there are important differences\nbetween the Calcutta MS. (C.) and the Ouseley, both of which were before\nEdward FitzGerald and between which he had to choose.\n\n[16] _i.e._, the Saki, or Cupbearer, or Drawer (generally a comely\nyouth), to whom a large proportion of Omar's ruba'iyat are addressed.\n\n[17] Many parallels between these translations of Hafiz and FitzGerald's\nruba'iyat may be found in the Terminal Essay to my former work.\n\n[18] The _sunnat_, or Traditions of Muhammad, supplementing the Qur'an,\nand held in almost equal reverence.\n\n[19] _Zendha deli-ra_ means the heart alive, or initiated in the\nspiritual sense, as opposed to the mere pleasure-seekers of the world.\n\n[20] See FitzGerald's notes to this quatrain.\n\n[21] C. reads \u00abverdure.\u00bb\n\n[22] C. reads \u00abIn the eyes of the clouds the veils are parted.\u00bb\n\n[23] See the Terminal Essay above referred to.\n\n[24] The sweet voice of David recurs continually in Persian poetry. We\nfind it in C. 89 _et passim_.\n\n[25] Pehlevi was the language of the ancient Persians of pre-Muhammadan\ntimes. FitzGerald's description of it as \u00abold heroic Sanskrit\u00bb is\nerroneous.\n\n[26] Yellow is the colour indicative in Persian literature of sickness\nor misery, corresponding to our word \u00absallow.\u00bb\n\n[27] _i.e._, \u00abPermit us to regret our repentance.\u00bb\n\n[28] Numbers of quatrains distinguished by the asterisk indicate that\nthe quatrains were not in FitzGerald's first edition, but made their\nappearance in the second or subsequent editions. FitzGerald may\ntherefore have been \u00abreminded of\u00bb them by (and in some instances took\nthem direct from) the text and translation of Nicolas, referred to as N\n\n[29] C. reads \u00abSince life passes, what is sweet and what is bitter?\u00bb\n\n[30] _Dai_ is the month that ushers in the winter quarter of the\nMuhammadan year.\n\n[31] _i.e._, Jamshyd the \u00ab_Roi soleil_\u00bb of early Persian history, and\nthe Kaianian dynasty--Kai Kobad, Kai Kawus, Kai Khosru, etc.\n\n[32] It will be observed that the introduction of Zal in this line was\nmade by FitzGerald in the third edition for metrical effect. The\nversions in the first edition \u00abLet Rustum lay about him as he will,\u00bb and\nin the second \u00abLet Rustum cry 'to battle' as he likes\u00bb are closer to the\nphrase in the original \u00abRustum _son_ of Zal.\u00bb\n\n[33] Feridun was the sixth king of the Paish-dadian dynasty. _Jamish_ is\nevidently an error for _Jam-ist_. _Vide_ the MS.\n\n[34] See FitzGerald's note to this quatrain.\n\n[35] Literally \u00aba stopper of the last breath.\u00bb\n\n[36] Kausar, in Persian mythology, is the head-stream of the Muhammadan\nParadise, whence all other rivers are supposed to flow. A whole chapter\nof the Qur'an is devoted to this miraculous stream, whose Saki is Ali,\nthe son-in-law of Muhammad.\n\n[37] This Persian here is a quotation from a famous verse in the Qur'an,\nXXV. 11, \u00abBlessed is He who, if He pleaseth, will make for thee a better\nprovision than this, namely, gardens under which rivers flow, and he\nwill provide thee palaces.\u00bb--E.B.C.\n\n[38] C. reads for \u00abfood\u00bb and \u00abwine,\u00bb \u00abgoblet\u00bb and \u00ablute,\u00bb whence we get\n\u00abthou beside me _singing_ in the wilderness.\u00bb\n\n[39] These two lines refer to the practice in the East of burying\ntreasure to hide it when a night attack (line 1) of dacoits or robbers\nis anticipated.\n\n[40] See FitzGerald's note upon this hero, and the following quatrain.\n\n[41] Moles or \u00abbeauty spots\u00bb are very highly esteemed in the East.\n\n[42] _i.e._, If life were eternal, you could not take the place of\nothers who have died before you. L. 2, _lit._: \u00ablet the world pass,\netc.\u00bb\n\n[43] _i.e._, the Mystic Road or Way of Salvation.\n\n[44] Burak was the winged mule of Muhammad on which he is said to have\njourneyed from Jerusalem to heaven.\n\n[45] This is a very difficult quatrain to translate. The mystic soaring\nof the soul in search of enlightenment is compared to the flight of a\nfalcon. In l. 3, _lit._: \u00abany partner of the secret.\u00bb\n\n[46] C. reads these two lines:--\n\n These two or three days of the period of my existence pass by\n They pass as passes the wind in the desert.\n\n[47] Compare FitzGerald's \u00abFirst Morning of Creation\u00bb in q. 73.\n\n[48] _i.e._, the Curtain that Veils the Mysteries of God, a constantly\nrecurring image in Persian literature.\n\n[49] C. reads \u00abof this juggling about of the soul.\u00bb E.B.C. suggests \u00abof\nthis chess-opening.\u00bb\n\n[50] C. reads \u00abAnd was enslaved by the curly head of a sweetheart.\u00bb\n\n[51] _i.e._, \u00abLet us cease striving to earn salvation.\u00bb\n\n[52] C. reads \u00abwith love.\u00bb\n\n[53] FitzGerald records in his note to this quatrain that had it not\nbeen for the advice of Prof. Cowell, this and the two following\nquatrains would have been withdrawn after the Second Edition. It is\nimpossible to conceive why, for they are singularly fine and\nexceptionally \u00abauthorized.\u00bb\n\n[54] FitzGerald's rendering in the 1st edition (Introduction), \u00abin this\nclay suburb\u00bb is a more literal rendering.\n\n[55] _i.e._, The ferrash of fate, preparing for the next halting-place,\ndestroys this tent (body) when the Sultan (soul) arises.\n\n[56] I do not know the origin of N.'s text, but I have never seen this\nquatrain in any other MS. The same remark applies to N. 123, cited under\nNo. 47.\n\n[57] C. reads \u00abFrom my creation the Age derived no advantage.\u00bb\n\n[58] _Harifan_; literally, \u00abcompanions,\u00bb \u00ab fellow-workers.\u00bb\n\n[59] _i.e._, The One God. Compare Hafiz (Ode 416), \u00abHe who knows the\nOne, knows all.\u00bb\n\n[60] Prof. Cowell's translation. V. appends a note, \u00abApparently the\nEssence of Life, the _Ding an Sich_ of Kant, and the _Wille_ of\nSchopenhauer, the Platonic Idea, the abiding type of the perishable\nindividuality; possibly, however, the Vedantic 'self' is meant.\u00bb For the\nword _mah_ = moon at the commencement of the quatrain, some of the texts\nread _badeh_ = wine.\n\n[61] Literally, \u00abdiscernment.\u00bb\n\n[62] The obscurity of the meaning here baffles satisfactory translation.\nProf. Cowell says: I would rather take it as a sarcasm, \u00abThose fools\nwith their unripe grapes become (in their own eyes) pure wine.\u00bb\n\n[63] _Azal_ in Persian dogma is eternity without beginning, _i.e._,\n\u00ab_from_ all time,\u00bb as opposed to _abad_, eternity without end, _i.e._,\n\u00ab_to_ all eternity.\u00bb\n\n[64] In the East a man may divorce his wife twice and take her back\nagain, but the third time it is irrevocable--unless (curiously enough)\nshe has been married to someone else in the meantime.\n\n[65] _i.e._, Wine, a recurrent Persian metaphor. Comp.: Arabic\n\u00ab_bint-ul-kerm_.\u00bb\n\n[66] _Zahir_ = exoteric, as opposed to _batin_ = esoteric, in line 2.\n\n[67] C. reads \u00abI am weary.\u00bb\n\n[68] The opening lines of FitzGerald's quatrain refer to Omar's\nreformation of the calendar, and institution of the Jalali era, which\nGibbon describes as \u00aba computation of time which surpassed the Julian,\nand approached the accuracy of the Gregorian style.\u00bb (\u00abDecline and Fall\nof the Roman Empire,\u00bb Gibbing's edition, 1890, vol. iv., p. 180.)\n\n[69] C. reads \u00abSo long as I live, I will not grieve for two days.\u00bb\n\n[70] _i.e._, Wine.\n\n[71] The _Lauh u Kalam_ are the Tablet and Pen whereon and wherewith the\nDivine decrees of what should be from all time were written. Compare\nKoran, ch. lxviii, 1. \u00abBy the Pen and what they write, O Muhammad! thou\nart not distracted.\u00bb\n\n[72] The river Oxus.\n\n[73] The editor of the \u00abCalcutta Review\u00bb appends the following note at\nthe foot of Prof. Cowell's article (E.C.), \u00abThese lanthorns are very\ncommon in Calcutta. They are made of a tall cylinder with figures of men\nand animals cut out of paper and pasted on it. The cylinder, which is\nvery light, is suspended on an axis, round which it easily turns. A hole\nis cut near the bottom, and the part cut out is fixed at an angle to the\ncylinder so as to form a vane. When a small lamp or candle is placed\ninside, a current of air is produced which keeps the cylinder slowly\nrevolving.\u00bb\n\n[74] This refers to the game of Polo. In the First and Second Editions\nfor \u00abHere or There\u00bb we read \u00abRight or Left\u00bb as in the original.\n\n[75] C. reads \u00abUpon the Tablet.\u00bb\n\n[76] Literally, \u00abFor the Pen once gone comes not back.\u00bb\n\n[77] See FitzGerald's note on this quatrain.\n\n[78] _i.e._, Of reality as opposed to the dream existence of the\npresent. (E.B.C.)\n\n[79] The _Mihrab_ is the spot in a Mosque indicating the precise\ndirection of Mecca towards which all Muhammadans turn in prayer.\n\n[80] This metaphor recurs frequently in the ruba'iyat. Compare W. 261\n(N. 221) and W. 275 (L. 428).\n\n[81] _i.e._, \u00abit was quite problematical how I might turn out.\u00bb\n\n[82] Here begins the section devoted especially to the talking pots in\nthe workshop of the potter--it ends at quatrain No. 90. In the first\nedition this section was entitled KUZA-NAMA = the \u00abPot-book\u00bb or \u00abBook of\nPots.\u00bb It may be observed that the quatrains in this section are not so\nclosely rendered from recognisable originals as the other quatrains\ncomposing FitzGerald's poem. This may be accounted for by the fact that\nthe comparison between the human form--the Personal Ego--and a pot made\nof earth by the Supreme Potter (if one may be allowed the phrase) is\nconstantly recurrent in all ruba'iyat attributed to Omar Khayyam. The\nsection is therefore to a great extent a poetical reflection upon this\nphase of the philosophy of the ruba'iyat. The use FitzGerald has made of\nO. 103 cannot fail to amaze the student. _Vide_ his own Note to quatrain\n89.\n\n[83] Ramazan (or Ramadan) is the ninth month of the Muhammadan year,\nwhich is observed as a month of fasting and penance, during which rigid\nMoslems may neither eat, drink, wash, nor caress their wives, excepting\nso far as is necessary to support life. Sha'ban is the month immediately\npreceding it. Shawwal is the month that follows it, which begins with\nthe great feast of Bairam, the festival referred to in line 4.\n\n[84] A very obscure distich to translate. The sense is here, however.\n\n[85] Compare Romans ch. ix. v. 21. \u00abHath not the potter power over the\nclay, of the same lump to make one vessel unto honour, and another unto\ndishonour.\u00bb\n\n[86] _i.e._, Helping one another to raise their loads. Prof. Denison\nRoss suggests that this refers to the cry of the porters and muleteers\nin the narrow streets of Persian cities. \u00ab_Pusht! Pusht!_\u00bb _i.e._, \u00abMind\nyour backs!\u00bb\n\n[87] _Kah-ruba_ means literally \u00abattracting straws\u00bb; hence \u00abamber,\u00bb the\nelektron of the Greeks. Here it is used in the descriptive sense to mean\n\u00abyellow.\u00bb\n\n[88] _Wuzu_, the ceremonial Ablution enjoined upon Muhammadans to put\nthem into a state of grace before prayer.\n\n[89] _Wakt-i-gul_ = the season of roses, a common synonym for Spring.\n\n[90] Literally \u00abhas become Dai,\u00bb the first winter-month; translated\n\u00abDecember,\u00bb _sub_ quatrain No. 9.\n\n[91] _Lit._: \u00abOr from the invisible world increase my daily provision.\u00bb\n\n[92] C. reads \u00abthis heart full of melancholy (or passion).\u00bb\n\n[93] It will be observed that this quatrain in the first edition came a\ngood deal closer to the original than this.\n\n[94] _Maghanah_ means anything connected with the Maghs or Magians\n(_i.e._, the Guebres or Fire-worshippers), and came to be a synonym for\nage, superiority, excellence, in which sense it is used here. S.\nRousseau has a very interesting note upon the history of this word at p.\n176 of his \u00abFlowers of Persian Literature\u00bb (London, 1801).\n\n[95] Meaning FitzGerald's Introduction. See Page 1.\n\n[96] Prof. Cowell says: \u00abI am not sure, but I fancy this hard verse\nreally is: 'O thou who art burned (in sorrow) for one burnt (in\nhell)--thyself being doomed to be burnt.' If this is correct (which is\nmost probable) the accuracy of FitzGerald's translation is remarkable.\u00bb\n\n[97] The phrase _gauhar suftan_ = \u00abto thread pearls\u00bb is used in Persian\nto mean \u00abto write verses\u00bb or \u00abto tell a story.\u00bb Omar uses it here\nreferring to the generally antinomian tendency of his ruba'iyat.\n\n[98] In this line Omar claims consideration on the ground that he has\nnever questioned the Unity of God. _Tawhid kerdan_ = to acknowledge One\nGod. Muhammadanism is essentially Unitarian. FitzGerald appears to have\nmissed the meaning here, reversing the doctrine, unless he means \u00abI\nnever misread One _as_ Two.\u00bb\n\n[99] L. 1. _lit._ \u00abrubbed its side with heaven.\u00bb This is the quatrain\nthat R.B.M. Binning found written upon a stone in the ruins of\nPersepolis (A Journal of Two Years' Travel in Persia, Ceylon, etc.,\nLondon, 1857, Vol. ii. p. 20). FitzGerald quotes it in a letter to Prof.\nCowell, under date 13th January, 1859. (Letters and Literary Remains of\nEdward FitzGerald, London, 1889. Macmillan, 3 vols., and 1894, 2 vols.)\nThe word _ku_ in Persian signifies \u00abWhere?\u00bb\n\n[100] The fifth edition is identical with the fourth.\n\n[101] See Defr\u00e9mery, \u00ab_Recherches sur le r\u00e8gne de Barki\u00e1rok_,\u00bb p. 51.\n\n[102] Avicenna died in 428 A.H.","title":"The Sufistic Quatrains of Omar Khayyam","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":87672}