Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam Part 3

What, without asking, hither hurried _whence?_ And, without asking, _whither_ hurried hence!

Another and another Cup to drown The Memory of this Impertinence!

x.x.xI

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.

x.x.xII

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.

x.x.xIII

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.

x.x.xIV

Then to this earthen Bowl did I adjourn My Lip 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."

x.x.xV

I think 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!

x.x.xVI

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!"

x.x.xVII

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!

x.x.xVIII

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!

x.x.xIX

How long, how long, in definite Pursuit Of This and That endeavour and dispute?

Better be merry with the fruitful Grape Than sadder after none, or bitter, Fruit.

XL

You know, my Friends, how long since in my House For a new Marriage I did make Carouse: Divorced old barren Reason from my Bed, And took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse.

XLI

For "IS" and "IS-NOT" though _with_ Rule and Line And "UP-AND-DOWN" _without_, I could define, I yet in all I only cared to know, Was never deep in anything but--Wine.

XLII

And lately, by the Tavern Door agape, Came stealing through the Dusk an Angel Shape Bearing a Vessel on his Shoulder; and He bid me taste of it; and 'twas--the Grape!

XLIII

The Grape that can with Logic absolute The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects confute: The subtle Alchemist that in a Trice Life's leaden Metal into Gold trans.m.u.te.

XLIV

The mighty Mahmud, the victorious Lord, That all the misbelieving and black Horde Of Fears and Sorrows that infest the Soul Scatters and slays with his enchanted Sword.

XLV

But leave the Wise to wrangle, and with me The Quarrel of the Universe let be: And, in some corner of the Hubbub coucht, Make Game of that which makes as much of Thee.

XLVI

For in and out, above, about, below, 'Tis nothing but a Magic Shadow-show Play'd in a Box whose Candle is the Sun, Round which we Phantom Figures come and go.

XLVII

And if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press, End in the Nothing all Things end in--Yes-- Then fancy while Thou art, Thou art but what Thou shalt be--Nothing--Thou shalt not be less.

XLVIII

While the Rose blows along the River Brink, With old Khayyam the Ruby Vintage drink: And when the Angel with his darker Draught Draws up to Thee--take that, and do not shrink.

XLIX

'Tis all a Chequer-board of Nights and Days Where Destiny with Men for Pieces plays: Hither and thither moves, and mates, and slays, And one by one back in the Closet lays.