Selections from Omar Khayyam

Hodder & Stoughton

AWAKE!  for Morning in the Bowl of Night
Has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight:
And Lo!  the Hunter of the East has caught
The Sultan's Turret in a Noose of Light.

II

Irám indeed is gone with all its Rose,
And Jamshýd's Sev'n-ring'd Cup where no one knows;
But still the Vine her ancient Ruby yields,
And still a Garden by the Water blows.

But come with old Khayyám, and leave the Lot
Of Kaikobád and Kaikhosrú forgot: 
Let Rustum lay about him as he will,
Or Hátim Tai cry Supper -- heed them not.

V

With me along some Strip of Herbage strown
That just divides the desert from the sown,
Where name of Slave and Sultán is known,
And pity Sultán Máhmúd on his Throne.  

Look to the Rose that blows about us -- 'Lo,
Laughing,' she says, 'into the World I blow:
At once the silken Tassel of my Purse
Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw.'

VIII

The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon
Turns Ashes -- or it prospers; and anon,
Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face
Lighting a little Hour or two -- is gone.

And those who husbanded the Golden Grain,
And those who flung it to the Winds like Rain,
Alike to no such aureate Earth are turn'd
As, buried once, Men want dug up again.

X

Think, in this batter'd Caravanserai
Whose Doorways are alternate Night and Day,
How Sultán after Sultán with his Pomp
Abode his Hour or two, and went his way.

XI

They say the Lion and the Lizard keep
The Courts where Jamshýd gloried and drank deep;
and Bahrám, that great Hunter -- the Wild Ass
Stamps o'er his Head, and he lies fast asleep.

XII

I sometimes think that never blows so red
The rose as where some buried Caesar bled;
That every Hyacinth the Garden wears
Dropt in its Lap from some once lovely Head.

XIII

And this delightful Herb whose tender Green
Fledges the River's Lip on which we lean --
Ah, lean upon it lightly!  for who knows
From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen!

XIV

Lo!  some we loved, the loveliest and the best
That Time and Fate of all their Vintage prest,
Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before,
And one by one crept silently to Rest.

And we, that now make merry in the Room
They left, and Summer dresses in new Bloom,
Ourselves must we beneath the Couch of Earth
Descend, ourselves to make a Couch -- for whom?

XVI

Oh, come with old Khayyám, and leave the Wise
To talk; one thing is certain, that Life flies;
One thing is certain, and the Rest is Lies;
The Flower that once has blown for ever dies.  

XVII

Myself when young did eagerly frequent
Doctor and Saint, and heard great Argument
About it and about:  but evermore
Came out by the same Door as in I went.

With them the Seed of Wisdom did I sow,
And with my own hand labour'd it to grow:
And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd --
'I came like Water, and like Wind I go.'

XIX

Up from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gate
I rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate,
And many Knots unravel'd by the Road;
But not the Knot of Human Death and Fate.

XX

There was a Door to which I found no Key:
There was a Veil past which I could not see:
Some little Talk awhile of Me and Thee
There seem'd -- and then no more of Thee and Me.

Ah, fill the Cup:  -- what boots it to repeat
How Time is slipping underneath our Feet:
Unborn To-morrow, and dead Yesterday,
Why fret about them if To-day be sweet!    

XXII

One Moment in Annihilation's Waste,
One Moment, of the Well of Life to taste--
The Stars are setting and the Caravan
Starts for the Dawn of Nothing -- Oh, make haste!

XXIII

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on:  nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.

Alas, that Spring should vanish with the Rose!
That Youth's sweet-scented Manuscript should close!
The Nightingale that in the Branches sang,
Ah, whence, and whither flown again, who knows!

XXV

Ah Love! could thou and I with Fate conspire
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,
Would not we shatter it to bits -- and then
Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!