Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam Part 8

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."]

[Ill.u.s.tration: QUATRAIN XLIV p. 102

[_Second Edition of the Translation_]

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.]

XLV

And if the Cup you drink, the Lip you press, End in what All begins and ends in--Yes; Imagine then you _are_ what heretofore You _were_--hereafter you shall not be less.

XLVI

So when at last the Angel of the drink Of Darkness finds you by the river-brink, And, proffering his Cup, invites your Soul Forth to your Lips to quaff it--do not shrink.

XLVII

And fear not lest Existence closing _your_ Account, should lose, or know the type no more; The Eternal Saki from that Bowl has pour'd Millions of Bubbles like us, and will pour.

XLVIII

When You and I behind the Veil are past, Oh, but the long long while the World shall last, Which of our Coming and Departure heeds As much as Ocean of a pebble-cast.

XLIX

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

L

Would you that spangle of Existence spend About THE SECRET--quick about it, Friend!

A Hair, they say, divides the False and True-- And upon what, prithee, does Life depend?

LI

A Hair, they say, divides the False and True; Yes; and a single Alif were the clue-- Could you but find it, to the Treasure-house, And peradventure to THE MASTER too;

LII

Whose secret Presence, through Creation's veins Running, Quicksilver-like eludes your pains; Taking all shapes from Mah to Mahi; and They change and perish all--but He remains;

LIII

A moment guess'd--then back behind the Fold Immerst of Darkness round the Drama roll'd Which, for the Pastime of Eternity, He does Himself contrive, enact, behold.

LIV

But if in vain, down on the stubborn floor Of Earth, and up to Heav'n's unopening Door, You gaze TO-DAY, while You are You--how then TO-MORROW, You when shall be You no more?

LV

Oh, plagued no more With Human or Divine, To-morrow's tangle to itself resign, And lose your fingers in the tresses of The Cypress-slender Minister of Wine.

LVI

Waste not your Hour, nor in the vain pursuit Of This and That endeavour and dispute; Better be merry with the fruitful Grape Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit.

LVII

You know, my Friends, how bravely 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

LVIII

For "IS" and "IS-NOT" though with Rule and Line, And "UP-AND-DOWN" by Logic I define, Of all that one should care to fathom, I Was never deep in anything but--Wine.

LIX

Ah, but my Computations, People say, Have squared the Year to human compa.s.s, eh?

If so, by striking from the Calendar Unborn To-morrow, and dead Yesterday.

LX

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

LXI

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

LXII

The mighty Mahmud, Allah-breathing Lord, That all the misbelieving and black Horde Of Fears and Sorrows that infest the Soul Scatters before him with his whirlwind Sword.