While Whinfield and Talbot do not exhibit the same consistent, memorable
sublimity of expression as does FitzGerald,
they can serve to illuminate the latter's monumental achievement
of sifting and sorting through the hodgepodge
that is the original Persian collection, consisting not only of
Khayyam's verse, but of subsequent poets as well,
selectively extracting and recombining from this diverse assortment,
a beautifully coherent and naturally flowing creation.
(It is recommended that you maximize your browser window to view this site.)
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(completed Sept. 7, 2001) |
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| 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 Sultán's Turret in a Noose of Light. |
The
sun doth smite the roofs with Orient ray
And, Khosrau like, his wine-red sheen display; Arise, and drink! the herald of the dawn Uplifts his voice, and cries, "Oh, drink to-day!" |
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Apollo
hefts that Gauntlet high to throw --
That Artemis affronting Gesture's Sight Thrusts out anon her Tent of Black, and Oh! The Sun effulgent shines on, Halo White! |
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| Dreaming
when Dawn's Left Hand was in the Sky
I heard a voice within the Tavern cry, "Awake, my Little ones, and fill the Cup Before Life's Liquor in its Cup be dry." |
At
dawn a cry through all the tavern shrilled,
"Arise, my brethren of the revelers' guild, That I may fill our measure full of wine, Or e'er the measure of our days be filled." Life's caravan is
hastening on its way;
When false dawn
streaks the east with cold, gray line, Pour in your cups the pure blood
of the vine;
The sun doth smite
the roofs with Orient ray
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In
silent Morn, the Lawn still wet with Dew,
The friendly Owner of the Pub said: "Drink! Ah, come! A lusty Bacchic Vial quaff, Ere ye despair, and in the Grave ye sink." |
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| And,
as the Cock crew, those who stood before
The Tavern shouted -- "Open then the Door! You know how little while we have to stay, And, once departed, may return no more." |
The
Bulbul to the garden winged his way,
Viewed lily cups, and roses smiling gay, Cried in ecstatic notes, "O live your life, You never will relive this fleeting day. " Whoe'er returned
of all that went before,
See! the dawn breaks,
and rends night's canopy:
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Oh
Rooster! when it crowed we Men who drink
Turned to the Pub: "Oh welcome! No Delay! Old Throats crave Oceans of Nepenthe sweet - A Vodka on the House? thy Treat today!" |
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| Now
the New Year reviving old Desires.
The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires, Where the White Hand Of Moses on the Bough Puts out, and Jesus from the Ground suspires. |
Now
spring-tide showers its foison on the land,
And lively hearts wend forth, a joyous band, For 'Isa's breath wakes the dead earth to life, And trees gleam white with flowers, like Musa's hand. Now is the time
earth decks her greenest bowers, And trees, like Musa's hand, grow white
with flowers!
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The
world sighs out for Happiness, and saith
"The very desert liveth: where is Death?" The hand of Moses blooms on many a bough, And every breeze is sweet with Jesus' breath. The sweet Spring-breezes
now the world adorn,
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Oh
how Youth do perpetuate Life's Germ
If Winter's ghoulish Loneliness adjourns; The Future? those hued Trees do show us It! O God's green Thumb the View so verdant turns. |
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| Iram
indeed is gone with all his 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. |
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That
Sultan's Star, now in, it vanishes!
Oh, to his Kingdom we will bid "Good-bye!" But ne'er shall "Wet Springs" Ranch Land ended be; Nay! Wine's red, merry Juice shall never die! |
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| And
David's Lips are lock't; but in divine
High piping Pehlevi, with "Wine! Wine! Wine! "Red Wine!"--the Nightingale cries to the Rose That yellow Cheek of her's to'incarnadine. |
Drink
wine! and then as Mahmud thou wilt reign,
And hear a music passing David's strain: Think not of past or future, seize to-day, Then all thy life will not be lived in vain. |
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With
heavenly Voice, O Noise inspired, we chant
"This Red Ale! Drink it up!", elated singing. Ah, Finch, to a white Violet chirp "Pink!" O see it redden! -- warble then, while winging. |
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| Come,
fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring
The Winter Garment of Repentance fling: The Bird of Time has but a little way To fly -- and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing. |
My
law it is in pleasure's paths to stray,
My creed to shun the theologic fray; I wedded Luck, and offered her a dower, She said, "I want none, so thy heart be gay." Ah! thou hast snared
this head, though white as snow, Which oft has vowed the wine-cup to forego;
Each morn I say,
"To-night I will repent
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But
bring me Wine; for words I do not care;
I have thy lips, and all my Heav'n is there; Bring wine to match thy cheeks; my penitence Is full of tangles as thy clust'ring hair. |
I'd
beg a Sip, if it be April Grape,
Romancing Life before its Thrill doth melt. Youth in the Wind can flutter off, O then No new Enchantment with dry Age's felt. |
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| Whether
at Naishapur or Babylon,
Whether the Cup with sweet or bitter run, The Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by drop, The Leaves of Life keep falling one by one. |
When
life is spent, what's Balkh or Nishapore?
What sweet or bitter, when the cup runs o'er? Come drink! full many a moon will wax and wane In times to come, when we are here no more. |
Who
cares for Balkh or Baghdad? Life is fleet;
And what though bitter be the cup, or sweet, So it be full? This moon, when we are gone, The circling months will day by day repeat. |
If
People one safe happy Zenith know,
Or trapped by Hell with Woe in Terror be; Ah, the bubbly River of our fleeting Weeks Doth flow unceasing there into the Sea. |
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| Morning
a thousand Roses brings, you say;
Yes, but where leaves the Rose of yesterday? And this first Summer month that brings the Rose Shall take Jamshýd and Kaikobád away. |
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This
Dawn Sky's heating Rays rejuvenate
Those Herbs of May; but Oh, I am dismayed At last Year's shrunken Buds - the transient Dross. Oh mark how Mortals' bygone Glories fade. |
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| But
come with old Khayyám, and leave the Lot
Of Kaikobád and Kaikhosrú forgot! Let Rustum cry "To Battle!" as he likes, Or Hátim Tai cry Supper--heed them not. |
Whilst
thou dost wear this fleshy livery,
Step not beyond the bounds of destiny; Bear up, though very Rustems be thy foes, And crave no boon from friends like Hatim Tai! |
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Ah,
amble by me, busy Fuss forsake;
Avoid all Company with Duke or Sheikh. Attack to kill, delight to maim? Oh Truce! Don't hurt. Or eye the Treat?--do not partake! |
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| With
me along the strip of Herbage strown
That just divides the desert from the sown, Where name of Slave and Sultán is forgot -- And pity Máhmúd on his golden Throne! |
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Where'er
on earth my wand'ring gaze I place,
A garden lav'd by Kausar's stream I trace; Heaven in the desert, Hell hath disappear'd, And Paradise is in her Angel face. |
The
Dream! out under hanging Palms a-bloom,
With she who jests and savors this short Life -- Envied of Men of Power, Glory-men, Hunted with Danger that attends to Strife. |
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| A Book
of Verses underneath the Bough,
A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread, -- and Thou Beside me singing in the Wilderness -- Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow! |
Some
wine, a Houri (Houris if there be),
A green bank by a stream, with minstrelsy;--- Toil not to find a better Paradise If other Paradise indeed there be! In the sweet spring
a grassy bank I sought,
Give me a skin of
wine, a crust of bread,
So long as I possess
two maunds of wine,
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If
in the Spring, she whom I love so well
Meet me by some green bank - the truth I tell - Bringing my thirsty soul a cup of wine, I want no better Heaven, nor fear a Hell. Whether my destin'd
fate shall be to dwell
Give me a scroll
of verse, a little wine,
Let Fortune but
provide me bread of wheat,
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A
Poem, and Trees a-blowing in a Wind.
A Brew I'll drink -- base Needs of other Stuff Ignore. Ah see here how we do behave; Indeed for us a Song is just enough. |
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| Some
for the Glories of This World; and some
Sigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come; Ah, take the Cash, and let the Promise go, Nor heed the rumble of a distant Drum! |
Did
He who made me fashion me for hell,
Or destine me for heaven? I can not tell. Yet will I not renounce cup, lute, and love, Nor earthly cash for heavenly credit sell. They preach how
sweet those Houri brides will be,
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Men
talk of Eden's Houris and their charms;
To maids of Earth I drink and sing my psalms. Hold fast Life's cash; if Time be in thy debt How pleasant is the distant call to arms! If in thy heart
the seed of Love is plac'd,
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Doth
Man chase Comforts, Gold, and high Regard?
Or seeks he out Priest, Minister, the Pope? Ah Lord, I'd taste the best of Human Life; O let me shed a far Tomorrow's Hope. |
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| Were
it not Folly, Spider-like to spin
The Thread of present Life away to win -- What? for ourselves, who know not if we shall Breathe out the very Breath we now breathe in! |
Shall
I still sigh for what I have not got,
Or try with cheerfulness to bear my lot? Fill up my cup! I know not if the breath I now am drawing is my last, or not! |
Drink
Wine: for here, and now, Eternal Life
Gives all the gain that Youth may win from Strife; Roses and friends to share thy merriment: Seize now that Joy with which to-day is rife! How long shall I,
or poor or wealthy, grieve?
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If
we're intent to Hope for heavenly Bliss,
Oh, Profit in the Earth away we throw -- Better we briefly taste Love's Pleasure, for What Hour we'll sink in Death we do not know! |
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| 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." |
With
maids stately as cypresses, and fair
As roses newly plucked, your wine-cups share, Or e'er Death's blasts shall rend your robe of flesh Like yonder rose-leaves, lying scattered there! Quoth rose, "I am
the Yusuf flower, I swear,
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A
Title Hope in Earth, oh Ego? No!
Lo, Nature's short Blooms show us What? We learn To say "Good-bye."--all Assets in the World, Like Nature's Gifts, back to the Dust return. |
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| 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. |
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For,
those who from the date its vintage take,
And they who all night long devotions make, All are submerg'd, not one remains on Earth, All are asleep: One only is awake. |
The
Riches People think will last so long
Go sour -- or persist and Worth retain; See Dew upon the Grass out in the Sun -- So Fortune spent doth hardly yet remain. |
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| 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. |
Ere
you succumb to shocks of mortal pain,
The rosy grape-juice from your wine-cup drain. You are not gold, that, hidden in the earth, Your friends should care to dig you up again! |
E'er
thou art striken down by Fate above,
Drink wine, the rosy wine that speaks of Love! Thy body hath no value; from the grave No man will dig thee up for treasure trove! |
Lo,
when a Niggard audits Banks, and when
An anguished Teen at Sin a Fortune throws, Ah Both, I'd augur, rate an untouched Death: Like Dung, to Ore will Neither decompose. |
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| Think,
in this batter'd Caravanserai
Whose Doorways are alternate Night and Day, How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp Abode his Hour or two and went his way. |
What
is the world? A caravanserai,
A pied pavilion of night and day; A feast whereat a thousand Jamshids sat, A couch whereon a thousand Bahrams lay. |
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Oh
in our weary Habitation, Earth,
Eternal Windows framed by Dusk and Dawn, A Pharaoh's Star view - watch it shatter, Heir, Washed up, not long to stay in this Salon. |
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| 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, but cannot break his Sleep. |
Here
in this palace, where Bahram held sway,
The wild roes drop their young, and tigers stray; And that great hunter king---ah! well-a-day! Now to the hunter death is fallen a prey. Though you should
sit in sage Aristo's room,
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Majestic
Shahs at grand Persepolis,
By proud Beast Herds attended at their Peak; Mark what great Monarchs doze, all hushed by Death; Ruined, in Hell, down in the Earth they sneak. |
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| The
Palace that to Heav'n his pillars threw,
And Kings the forehead on his threshold drew-- I saw the solitary Ringdove there, And "Coo, coo, coo," she cried; and "Coo, coo, coo." |
I saw
a bird perched on the walls of Tus,
Before him lay the skull of Kai Kawus, And thus he made his moan, "Alas, poor king! Thy drums are hushed, thy 'larums have rung truce." Yon palace, towering
to the welkin blue,
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Oh
Castle high, on whose heraldic Door
Do these, the Royals of late honored Lines, The Visage paint -- see that a Dove doth chirp, A Cock doth crow, a Crow on Carrion dines. |
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| 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. |
Where'er
you see a rose or tulip bed,
Know that a mighty monarch's blood was shed And where the violet rears her purple tuft, Be sure a black-moled girl hath laid her head. |
Where'er
the Rose or Tulip scents the air,
The life-blood of a King has ebb'd forth there; And every Violet that decks the Earth Was once a mole upon a cheek so fair. |
It
seems, when in a shaded silent Park,
That every Blossom, every Chaplet's Bud, Grows rather more attractive to Man's Eye On Soil enriched here with famed Heroes' Blood. |
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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! |
Yon
turf, fringing the margent of the stream,
As down upon a cherub's lip might seem, Or growth from dust of buried tulip cheeks; Tread not that turf with scorn, or light esteem! Days changed to
nights, ere you were born, or I,
"Take up thy cup
and goblet, Love, " I said,
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If
in the Spring, she whom I love so well
Meet me by some green bank - the truth I tell - Bringing my thirsty soul a cup of wine, I want no better Heaven, nor fear a Hell. O Heart's Desire!
from cup and flask seek aid;
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Ah,
kneel in high Respect when at the Springs;
Honor when viewing Flowers in the Dell; Lo from one vanished fine Soul far below This pretty, sightly Garden could upwell. |
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| Ah,
my Beloved, fill the Cup that clears
TO-DAY of past Regrets and future Fears: To-morrow? Why, To-morrow I may be Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n thousand Years. |
O let
us not forecast to-morrow's fears,
But count to-day as gain, my brave compeers! To-morrow we shall quit this inn, and march With comrades who have marched seven thousand years. |
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My
Friend, salute my happy Serum sweet
That Care aborts and Worry holds at bay. Give me TODAY! O Why? Life's over fast - Fed to the Worms, our Flesh returns to Clay. |
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| Lo!
some we loved, the loveliest and 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. |
My
comrades are all gone; Death, deadly foe,
Has caught them one by one, and trampled low; They shared life's feast, and drank its wine with me, But lost their heads, and dropped a while ago. |
Friends,
when ye keep a tryst, and meet your host,
And merrymake with those ye love the most, When the Mugh Wine the cupbearer takes round, Drink to a certain Helpless One a toast! |
Those
I've adored that born to freedom's Hope,
Know not a Course but "Carpe Diem!", They've Life's Bottle tasted fervently till All Turn in to sleep, and now are in the Grave. |
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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? |
Down
fall the tears from skies enwrapt in gloom,
Without this drink, the flowers could never bloom! As now these flowerets yield delight to me, So shall my dust yield flowers---God knows for whom. Take heart! Long
in the weary tomb you'll lie,
When life has Bed,
and we rest in the tomb,
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Ah
with much Fondness we remember now
Those lovely Folks tucked far below, esteemed; And then Tomorrow, Autumn, our Turn comes - A Vacancy, eh? Time so short here has seemed! |
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| Ah,
make the most of what we yet may spend,
Before we too into the Dust descend; Dust into Dust, and under Dust, to lie; Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and -- sans End! |
With
fancies, as with wine, our heads we turn,
Aspire to heaven, and earth's low trammels spurn; But, when we drop this fleshly clog, 'tis seen From dust we came, and back to dust return. |
To
Love's effacement this our life we trust,
And into Fate's strong talons we are thrust; Then rouse thyself, O sweet-faced Cupbearer, Bring me a draught, for long shall I be dust! |
We'd
best attempt to get Enchantment's Kiss,
As handed us in the due Season rife. O Why? ye mute down under Dirt do go, To end sans Sound, sans Wants, and so -- sans Life! |
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| Alike
for those who for To-day prepare,
And those that after some To-morrow stare, A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries "Fools! Your Reward is neither Here nor There!" |
Some
look for truth in creeds, and forms, and rules; Some grope for doubts or
dogmas in the schools;
But from behind the veil a voice proclaims, "Your road lies neither here nor there, O fools. " |
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Oh
Those that worry of that Time far off,
Or worry now and hoard for One that's near, Do Errors sore make, and must Elsewhere look To seize their secret Prize supreme, I fear. |
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| Why,
all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd
Of the Two Worlds so learnedly, are thrust Like foolish Prophets forth; their Works to Scorn Are scatter'd, and their Mouths are stopt with Dust. |
The
sages who have compassed sea and land,
Their secret to search out, and understand--- My mind misgives me if they ever solve The scheme on which this universe is planned. What sage the eternal
tangle e'er unraveled,
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So,
Wisdom of those worldly Thinker's Words,
Truths sacrosanct, propounded Thoughts, that fade Like worthless Errors, that we trust, they wane; False Scholarship to rest in Death is laid. |
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| 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. |
I flew
here, as a bird from the wild, in aim
Up to a higher nest my course to frame; But, finding here no guide who knows the way, Fly out by the same door where through I came. |
The
Slaves of Intellect in talk persist;
Die, arguing does this or that exist; Fools eat dry raisins 'til their souls become Sour grapes; but wise men on New Wine insist. A teacher once we
sought, when young, to find
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Mentored
by Guru and Rabbi devout,
Who many a Quandry fought, Men at debate; Reason oft circularly seen, it seemed That I was doomed to an e'er turning Gate. |
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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." |
'Tis
but a day we sojourn here below,
And all the gain we get is grief and woe, Then, leaving our life's riddles all unsolved, And burdened with regrets, we have to go. See! from the world
what profit have I gained?
Whilom, ere youth's
conceit had waned, methought
I studied with the
masters long ago,
Audit yourself,
your truce account to frame,
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Like
Wind or Water, passing on its way,
Out of my life goes yet another day. Two days there are that never trouble me - One has not come, the other could not stay. A teacher once we
sought, when young, to find
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Ah,
Knowledge! Education's widen'd Base,
I vow'd to add while wandering mid Earth. The Pity is I'm mortal, fed to Worms; I think ahead: "All this! What was it worth?" |
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| Into
this Universe, and Why not knowing,
Nor Whence, like Water willy-nilly flowing: And out of it, as Wind along the Waste, I know not Whither, willy-nilly blowing. |
My
life lasts but a day or two, and fast
Sweeps by, like torrent stream or desert blast, Howbeit, of two days I take no heed--- The day to come, and that already past. Not-being's water
served to mix my clay,
Let not base avarice
enslave thy mind,
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Like
Wind or Water, passing on its way,
Out of my life goes yet another day. Two days there are that never trouble me - One has not come, the other could not stay. Know this, that
soon thou diest, and thy soul
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In
Life will thy End be not Unknown Deeds?
Will ye Ovation glowing want to win When ye on Wings will flirt anon with Stars? Oh I think ye will walk, to your Chagrin! |
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| What,
without asking, hither hurried whence?
And, without asking, whither hurried hence! Another and another Cup to drown The Memory of this Impertinence! |
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I was
not asked to choose my natal morn,
I die as helplessly as I was born. Bring wine, and I will strive to wash away The recollection of Creation's scorn. |
Oh
to and fro with urgent Whim we trek;
Hike here and there in mad chaotic Rush. O earn unhappy Torment in this Earth? To end, with Wine our hectic Grind we hush. |
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| 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 Master-Knot of Human Fate. |
I solved
all problems, down from Saturn's wreath
Unto this lowly sphere of earth beneath, And leapt out free from bonds of fraud and lies, Yea, every knot was loosed, save that of death! |
Where
doth the past begin, the future end?
Rejoice to-day, Wine is thy only friend! Nor theory nor practice is of use, But Wine unties each knot that Fate may send. How long shall we
be slaves, untying knots?
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Ah,
by the Theban Rampart strong I sought
To understand the tyrant Stars of Men; Ah Fortune, Heaven-sent, thou art not free; The Luck, then Doom, of Man evades our Ken. |
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| There
was the Door to which I found no Key:
There was the Veil through which I could not see: Some little talk awhile of Me and Thee There was -- and then no more of Thee and Me. |
All
mortal ken is bounded by the veil,
To see beyond man's sight is all too frail; Yea! earth's dark bosom is his only home:--- Alas! 'twere long to tell the doleful tale. Nor you nor I can
read the etern decree,
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Behind
the veil the Gods their Secrets keep,
And past that curtain none may hope to peep; One plot of earth is all we may secure. Drink, then! for such philosophies are cheap. |
I
mark the Sheet that hindered Light and View:
O too, the Way whose Lock would not release. Do we Men find Thee, Home of human Truth? O if not, O then here the Search will cease. |
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| Then
to the rolling Heav'n itself I cried,
Asking, "What Lamp had Destiny to guide Her little Children stumbling in the Dark?" And -- "A blind Understanding!" Heav'n replied. |
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Then
inspiration from on High I sought,
Asking that Knowledge might to me be brought; But presently my heart said,"Pray no more! The power of Prayer is all, the Prayer is naught!" The Gods in mortal
man do not confide,
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I'd
Seek a Lord transcendent that all Things
Can plan -- He'd end intending Virtue bright? "If all Men grovel badly in rude Sin, Wilt Thou, kind-hearted, help?" He said, "I might!" |
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| Earth
could not answer; nor the Seas that mourn
In flowing Purple, of their Lord forlorn; Nor Heav'n, with those eternal Signs reveal'd And hidden by the sleeve of Night and Morn. |
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Our
World hath loathed Reply; and Neptune's Froth
Hath grown bereft of Strength here, Master gone. Oh covered Realm divine? No, fallen still! Nor Vision had in Sunset, nor in Dawn. |
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| Then
to the Lip of this poor earthen Urn
I lean'd, the secret Well of Life to learn: And Lip to Lip it murmur'd -- "While you live, Drink! -- for, once dead, you never shall return." |
To-day
is but a breathing space, quaff wine!
Thou wilt not see again this life of thine; So, as the world becomes the spoil of time, Offer thyself to be the spoil of wine! I put my lips to
the cup, for I did yearn
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The
tangled secrets of Eternity
Remain unsolv'd; and Time and Space are free From Man's control; both ignorant and wise Stand impotent before Infinity. To the jar's mouth
my eager lip I press'd,
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An
Honor fell to me, for my true Friend
The Cup I took: Help, sound Advice distilled: "I'll warn you errant People: Fate turns - Lo, An Hurt? Oh revel there in Wine." I thrilled! |
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the Vessel, that with fugitive
Articulation answer'd, once did live, And merry-make, and the cold Lip I kiss'd, How many Kisses might it take -- and give! |
This
jug did once, like me, love's sorrows taste,
And bonds of beauty's tresses once embraced, This handle, which you see upon its side, Has many a time twined round a slender waist! |
This
jug, o'er which I pledge my love to-day,
Was once a lover too, now sad, now gay; The handle that thou seest upon its neck Once round another's neck in friendship lay. Wine is a melted
ruby, and the cup
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As
with the talkative Container I
Did flirt, and to me wise Advice he gave, I trust, my Man, he did his lewd Kicks get - O is it darling silken Nymphs? Thou Knave! |
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| For
in the Market-place, one Dusk of Day,
I watch'd the Potter thumping his wet Clay: And with its all obliterated Tongue It murmur'd -- "Gently, Brother, gently, pray!" |
I saw
a busy potter by the way
Kneading with might and main a lump of clay; And, lo! the clay cried, "Use me gently, pray; I was a man myself but yesterday!" A potter at his
work I chanced to see,
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I was,
upon the terrace, one who trod
In blind contempt upon the beaten sod. The bruisèd clay in mystic language spake - "Thou, too, shalt some day feel the Foot of God!" In the Bazaar I
saw, but yesterday,
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The
Master, real skill'd at working Dirt,
That Pile of Putty threw - a-yelling by, It whimpered in an Accent crude: "Oh me! Don't batter me that rough; pound softly, Guy." |
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has not such a Story from of Old
Down Man's successive generations roll'd Of such a clod of saturated Earth Cast by the Maker into Human mould? |
When
the great Founder molded me of old,
He mixed much baser metal with my gold; Better or fairer I can never be Than I first issued from his heavenly mold. |
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As
in Accounts of how God models Dirt,
As Man He sketches, crafted out of Clay, So can an Urn savant, Lord Mr. Mud, Out of mute Sand his "Hello Brother" say. |
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| 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! |
Sweet
is the breath of Spring to rose's face,
And thy sweet face adds charm to this fair place; To-day is sweet, but yesterday is sad, And sad all mention of its parted grace. Ask not the chances
of the time to be,
Behold the tricks
this wheeling dome doth play,
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Tomorrow
is beyond To-day's command,
And Sorrow lords it o'er the future land; Thine hour is Now! Fix not thine eyes afar, Missing the Glory ready to thy hand! The breath of Spring
is sweet unto the Rose,
Behold the evils
Heav'n doth here display,
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Imbibe!
O worry not that Life's Hope drifts;
The Day gone by, the Future not yet here: Do tenuous NOW remember, not a Fad - What's up-to-date, watch: it will disappear! |
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not a drop that from our Cups we throw
For Earth to drink of, but may steal below To quench the fire of Anguish in some Eye There hidden--far beneath, and long ago. |
Lo!
every drop the cupbearer shall spill,
The fire of anguish in some eye may still; Praise be to God! Thou knowest that in Wine Is that which frees thy heart from every ill. |
Liquor
beneath the Ground undo hot Pain!
Offer thy Honey as a Sea of Balm. Soothe the deep Torment and wash off dark Woe, A tortured Wretch in burning Grief to calm. |
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| As
then the Tulip for her wonted sup
Of Heavenly Vintage lifts her chalice up, Do you, twin offspring of the soil, till Heav'n To Earth invert you like an empty Cup. |
Like
tulips in the Spring your cups lift up,
And, with a tulip-cheeked companion, sup With joy your wine, or e'er this azure wheel With some unlooked-for blast upset your cup. |
Each
morn the dew begems the tulip's face,
The violet's bended crest is full of grace; But, fairest of them all, the rosebud sweet, With modest blush her skirt doth closely lace. Friends, when ye
meet together, ne'er forget;
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Ah,
see the purple Violet catch the Drops
Of Life reviving Nutrient divine! Supply thy Soul, thou Progeny of Clay, With Lakes of Ale, then, from that Fountain, Wine. |
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| Do
you, within your little hour of Grace,
The waving Cypress in your Arms enlace, Before the Mother back into her arms Fold, and dissolve you in a last embrace. |
Many
have come, and run their eager race,
Striving for pleasures, luxuries, or place, And quaffed their wine, and now all silent lie, Enfolded in their parent earth's embrace. |
Let
not the Veil of Sorrow shroud thy face,
Nor in thy life let idle grief find place; But feast on books, and love, and Nature's joys, Ere Earth enfold thee in her last embrace. |
Ere
you by Charon to a frigid Realm
Of Death are ferried by his Ark, thy Chance Lose not to revel in Love's sumptuous Glow, Warm Sensibility and Touch -- Romance! |
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| A Moment's
Halt -- a momentary taste
Of Being from the Well amid the Waste -- And Lo! the phantom Caravan has reach'd The Nothing it set out from -- Oh, make haste! |
O unenlightened
race of humankind,
Ye are a nothing, built on empty wind! Yea, a mere nothing, hovering in the abyss, A void before you, and a void behind! |
Life's
caravan mysteriously goes by;
Seize Happiness, while yet the moments fly! Do not, Cupbearer, for tomorrow grieve, Bring Wine to-night, e'er Dawn lights up the sky! |
Lament
the Saga of a human Fate,
The Months of Man's short, vain, and mortal Path That to the desert Origin comes back: We eye him all worm-eaten - do the Math! |
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| Oh,
plagued no more with Human or Divine,
To-morrow's tangle to itself resign, |