^" 
 
 
 
 
 SOUTHEI 
 
 
 
 
 _u 
 
 ^?Ssm 
 
 
 
 :2 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 =^= ^ 
 
 
 
 
 
 !^ 
 
 
 
 
 
 K.-y.-: 
 
 3 1822 00578 1141
 
 uentrai university uorary 
 
 University of California, San Diego 
 
 Please Note: This item is subject to recall 
 after two weeks. 
 
 Date Due 
 
 C!^3 0rj 1990 
 
 
 n- " i K'Qn 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 \

 
 THE STROPHES 
 
 DMAR KHilYYAM 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE PERSIAN 
 
 JOHN LESLIE GARNER 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND NOTES. 
 
 MILWAUKEE. 
 THE CORBITT A. 8KI0MORE CC
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1883, 
 
 By JOHN LESLIE GARNER.
 
 ^x\iv0bnctx0n*
 
 Quant aux JJtilitaires, Utopistes, Economistes, Saint- 
 Simonistes et autres qui lui demanderont a quoi cela 
 rime, — il repondra : le premier vers rime avec le second, 
 quand la rime n' est pas mauvaise, et ainsi de suite. 
 
 Theophile Oautier.
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 /^MAR KHAYYAM was born iu the first half of 
 the eleventh centurj' of our era at Naishapiir, 
 a small town in the Province of Khorasan, a place 
 which modern travelers describe as singularly unin- 
 teresting, but which at that time was of uo little 
 importance. The details which we possess of his 
 life are exceedingly meagre, but doubtless true. 
 His boyhood was entirely uneventful. He com- 
 pleted his studies at the Madrassah of Naishdpdr, 
 an institution celebrated for the number of noted 
 men who had there received their education, in the 
 year 1042. While at school his two most intimate 
 friends were NiZclm-ul-Mulk and Hassan-Sabbdh, 
 both of whom afterwards became celebrated in 
 their country's history. 
 
 One day, little imagining the influence it was 
 destined to have on their careers, they jokingly 
 entered into a boyish compact; according to the 
 terms of this agreement the one who should be 
 most highly favored by fortune was to interest him- 
 self in the advancement of his comrades. Their
 
 VI. Introduction. 
 
 biographers relate that it had the effect of stimu- 
 lating their zeal, each applying himself to his 
 studies most assiduously. It was not long before 
 the treaty was put to the test, for Nizd,m-ul-Mulk 
 was called to a position in the government, and 
 his companions immediately demanded the fulfill- 
 ment of their oath. Hassan-Sabbdh, ambitious, 
 jealous and crafty, was given a place at Court, 
 while Omar, who seems to have been of a studious 
 and retiring disposition, was in accordance with 
 his request, made chief of his village. 
 
 Living quietly at Naish;lpur, he pursued his 
 favorite studies of philosophy, mathematics and 
 poetry, and became a philosopher, a skeptic and 
 a fatalist 
 
 Following the custom of Persian poets, he adopted 
 a Takhallus or poetical name, choosing that of 
 Khayydm, an appellation suggested by the trade of 
 his father, which was that of a tent-maker. His 
 countrymen say that his extreme modesty prevented 
 him from assuming a more pretentious name, the 
 Oriental poets, as a rule, sharing the proverbial 
 modesty of their class, thus, Firdusi, the "Celestial," 
 Haflz,the "Preserver," Saadi, the "Felicitous." 
 
 The chroniclers relate that Omar was fond of 
 spending the evening on the terrace before his 
 house, in company with his friends, surrounded by 
 musicians, and drinking wine, which was presented
 
 Introduction. 
 
 in turn to all the symposiasts by the Sdki or cup- 
 bearer, a custom which still prevails in the East. 
 
 He seems lo have passed through those days with 
 the indolence and indifference of a god ; places of 
 honor were offered him by the government, but he 
 prefen-ed to spend his time in a vain search for 
 some rhjone for the reason of things, although he 
 well knew that his aim was unattainable. 
 
 His death occurred in the year 1123 of the Chris- 
 tian era. 
 
 * * 
 
 The various manuscripts [the texts used in this 
 translation were Whinfield's, Nicolas', and the 
 lithographed edition of Lucknow] contain more than 
 a thousand quatrains ascribed to Omar, although 
 in this number there is constant repetition of ideas 
 expressed in slightly varying diction. It is impossi- 
 ble to tell how many of these are spurious, for it is 
 highly probable that many have crept into later 
 editions, having been added by over-zealous copy- 
 ists unable to accept Omar's philosophy, or by 
 readers who scribbled antagonistic strophes on the 
 margins of their copies, which afterwards found 
 their way into the text ; this supposition is sup- 
 ported by the fact that in the larger collections 
 contradictory stanzas often are found on the same 
 page. The Rubdiydt, a poetic form in great favor 
 in the East, seems peculiarly suited to Omar's
 
 Introduction. 
 
 thoughts. In the original, the first, second and 
 
 fourth lines rhyme, though all four verses may do 
 
 so; and some twenty-four different meters are in 
 
 use. The only respect in which the form of the 
 
 translation agrees with the Persian is in leaving 
 
 the third line blank. 
 
 * * 
 * 
 
 It is a difficult question to decide what was 
 Omar's real philosophy. He probably suffered 
 periodic attacks of metaphysics with accompanying 
 chane-es in his beliefs ; but unfortunately the arbi- 
 trary arrangement of the original, which is in 
 accordance with the alphabetical order of rhymes, 
 offers no clue to the chronological sequence or 
 development of his ideas. 
 
 It is well nigh impossible for an Occidental to 
 accept the mystic interpretation of M. Nicolas, and 
 judging by his notes it seems as if he too had grave 
 misgivings regarding poor Omar's character. How- 
 ever, while the old Tent-maker doubtless was 
 human, it is not likely that he was past redemption. 
 He drank wine as he sang of it, and it is probable 
 that his morals were little, if any, in advance of 
 his age and country, but his vices go hand in hand 
 with great virtues ; throughout his Rubdiydt 
 there breathes a spirit of charity and toleration 
 towards his opponents, and an independence in 
 thought, unusual in his time and in an Oriental
 
 Introduction. 
 
 land. A skeptic regarding the creeds prevalent, he 
 tore down but does not seem to have supplanted 
 with anything better. He recognized the weakness 
 of the human intellect when struggling with the 
 questions of human destiny, at the same time 
 regarding that destiny as implacable, a belief form- 
 ulated throughout his writings in an Eastern 
 fatalism. 
 
 Insomucli as there is a vein of Pantheism in his 
 poems he may be regarded as a Sufi, but his Siifism 
 is not the kind which the professors of the creed 
 would have us believe, and his wine, woman and 
 song are doubtless no less real than were the 
 material inspirations of Anacreon, Horace and 
 Beranger. 
 
 While Omar's fatalism and indifference may to 
 many seem pernicious, thrusting themselves for- 
 ward in such a manner that they cannot be over- 
 looked, the effect of the wliole is, as Mr. Fitzgerald 
 says, more apt to move sorrow than auger towards 
 the old Tent-maker. 
 
 Omar in the Twelfth Century belonged to the 
 class of thiukers which includes the Agnostic of 
 to-day. Recognizing the intenability of the doc- 
 trines taught by the various Mohammedan sects, 
 he did not refrain from assailing tbem with ridicule; 
 he seems to have thought with a modern French 
 writer, that the value of a religion depends upon
 
 Introduction. 
 
 its harmony, more or less complete, with the pre- 
 cepts taught by the reason and with the facts estab- 
 lished by science. [Les Religions de I'Extreme 
 Orient, L^on de Rosny, 1886.] By his contempo- 
 raries he was regarded as a Freethinker and a Scof- 
 fer, and it was not until long after his death, prob- 
 ably when the examples furnished by his way of 
 living had ceased, that the Siifls discovered the 
 deep spiritual meaning of his Bacchanalian verses. 
 That they did make this discovery, however, need 
 not surprise us, for the Oriental mind, like the Ori- 
 ental languages, as Mr. Huxley has remarked, is 
 exceedingly subtle, and the Siifi of the East, as an 
 expounder of the obscure, is no less adroit than 
 the Theologian of the "West. 
 
 "Si la foi vient de Dieu, c'est aussi de Lui que 
 vient la raison," was doubtless one of the articles 
 of Omar's creed, whatever his religion may have 
 been, for he never tired of attacking the unrea- 
 sonable and absurd. He felt a contempt for hol- 
 low ceremonial, and he scorned hypocrftcy and 
 deceit. Clemency and generosity, not vengeance 
 and wrath, were worthy of the Divine; infinite 
 mercy was incompatible with the Mohammedan 
 doctrine of future punishments, while infinite 
 power was opposed to the more modern theory 
 of free-will. 
 
 The shortness and uncertainty of life and the
 
 Introduction. xi. 
 
 instability of earthly affairs, were ever in his 
 thoughts. His appreciation of the unavoidable 
 separation from things mundane, and the fewness 
 of his wants, led him to disregard wealth and 
 honors. Frequently a vein of pessimism crops 
 out in his writings, but it is of a healthy aggres- 
 sive sort, very different from the article which 
 the pseudo-pessimists of the day, in their solemn 
 seasons of reflection upon their individual ills, 
 are wont to style truth ; Omar was a precursor 
 of Schopenhauer, rather than of Leopardi. 
 
 In the selections which follow, accuracy of 
 translation was the principal aim ; the collection 
 might have been made much larger, but it was 
 deemed inadvisable, as Omar's themes are not 
 many, and the ever-recurring Wine, Rose, and 
 Nightingale are somewhat cloying to Occidental 
 senses. 
 
 The great questions of human life are of all 
 times and of all ages, and although Omar never 
 tired of struggling with them, he discovered noth- 
 ing new, and at last, feeling that Death alone was 
 certain, he resigned the task in despair, exclaiming 
 to his pupil, Niziimi, ' I shall soon be buried 
 where the North wind will strew roses over my 
 grave,' and Niziirai wondered greatly at the words, 
 for in the Koran it is written that no man knoweth 
 where he sliall be Imried ; but, a few years later.
 
 Introduction. 
 
 returning to Naishdpur, to visit the last resting 
 place of his Master, he found it close beside a 
 garden-wall, and he noticed that the blossoms had 
 fallen from the spreading branches and completely 
 hidden the tomb from view.
 
 ERRATA. 
 
 Page X, line 22, for hypocracy read hyporrisy 
 
 Page 3, stanza II, veree 4, for ere read e'er. 
 
 Page 8. stanza XVI, verse 1, for ere read e'er. 
 
 Page it. stanza XXI. verse 2. after boots insert if. 
 
 Page Vi. stanza XXXIII, verse 4. for hurried read buried. 
 
 Page 17. stanza I, verse 2. for ere read e'er. 
 
 Page 20. stanza X. verse 2. for he read ue. 
 
 Page 24. stanza VI, verse 3. for sieze read seize. 
 
 Page 58, stanza VI, verse 3, after while insert angels. 
 
 Page 74. note 30, for calender read calendar. 
 
 §\V0\fijC&*
 
 \A/itli sparkling wine sweet roses join 
 
 'Twill make the nectared draught divine; 
 Let Mirth and Laughter rule the hour, 
 While roses plucked from Love's own bower. 
 Around our moistened temples twine, 
 And add fresh fragrance to the wine. 
 
 — Bo%irne's Anacreon.
 
 TThe Herald of the Morn, in lusty tone, 
 
 Loud greets the Dawn upon her Golden Throne, 
 Again proclaiming to a Slumbering World, 
 Another Night beyond recall has flown. 
 
 Arise oh Sdki,i the Sunlight in is creeping, 
 
 The Drowsy soon will fall to Death's sure Reaping, 
 
 Come tune thy Harp, and fill a Sparkling Measure, — 
 
 Not One will-ere- return of all the Sleeping. -^^-SL^i 
 
 The Flowers upon the breeze their fragrance fling, 
 The Bulbul's notes within the thicket ring, 
 Ah come recline beneath the Rose-tree's shade, — 
 The Rose that once has blown must die with Spring.
 
 Strophes of Omar KJiayydm. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Come take thy Lute and seek the Verdant Plain, 
 With Countless Houris fair a Laughing Train, 
 For oft has Heaven brought them into Life, 
 And turned them back to Lifeless Cups again. 
 
 V. 
 
 The Violets that by this River grow. 
 Spring from some Lip here buried long ago ; — 
 And tread thou lightly on this Tender Green, 
 Who sleepethhere so still, thou ne'er wilt know. 
 
 Our Souls we gladly sacrifice to Wine, 
 The Smiling, Laughing Daughter of the Vine,' 
 Yes, Ssiki, stand thou ready with the Flask, 
 And to my Lip the Flowing Cup incline.
 
 Strophes of Dinar Khayyam. 
 
 Mid Joyful Dancers and with Wine and Song, 
 Upon this Mossy Bank the whole Day long; 
 I ask for nothing more, — to think of Hell, 
 Or e'en of Heaven, would be, methinks, a Wrong. 
 
 A Flask of Wine, a Loaf of Bread, 
 To every Care and Worldly Sorrow dead, 
 I covet not, when thou, oh Love, art near, 
 The Jeweled Crown upon the Sultan's Head. 
 
 12. 
 
 Yon fallen Palace once with Heaven vying. 
 Where Kings bowed down, is now in ruin lying, 
 The Ring-dove haunts its desolated courts. 
 And wails coo-coo, coo-coo,^ forever crying.
 
 Strophes of Omar Khayyam. 
 
 Now, here where Bahrdm* lived ia wild carouse, 
 The Lion sleeps, the Deer are wont to brouse, 
 Though oft he followed them with bow and Spear, 
 They never will his FinaUSlumbers rouse. 
 
 XI. 
 
 When I am dead, my body wash with Wine, 
 Sing o'er my tomb the praises of the Vine, 
 And when the Day of Resurrection dawns, 
 Commingled with the Tavern's dust, seek Mine. 
 
 XII. 
 
 'T is said there is a place where Houris throng, 
 Where we shall drink and list to Lute and Song, 
 If Paradise such Pleasures offers us, — 
 To love the like on Earth, — in what the Wrong?*
 
 StropJies of Omar Khayyam. 
 
 xni. 
 In Adoration at the Wine-jar's Lip 
 We learn a lesson in Good-fellowship, 
 The moments we have lost in Fruitless Prayer, 
 We best can find again when Wine we sip. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Snow white, like Moses' hand," the Branches grow, 
 While Clouds rain Tears upon the Earth below. 
 The opening buds revived by Jesus' breath, 
 Upon the air their Subtile Fragrance throw. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Come fill the cup, and quaff this kind Nepenthe, 
 The Sweetest Gift of all the Gods have sent thee. 
 For vainly wilt thou seek to find again 
 The Fleeting Moments which the Fates have lent 
 thee.
 
 Strophes of Omar Khayydm. 
 
 Such Homage to the Cup I ere will pay A^Jl^C 
 
 That when my Body in the Ground they lay, 
 
 The Odor of my Wine will overcome 
 
 All those who happen by my Tomb to stray. 
 
 This Tufted Mead is sprinkled by the Rain 
 With all its Flowers which our Senses chain, — 
 Ere long the Flowers from our Dust will spring,- 
 Whose sight will they rejoice? A Question vain. 
 
 xvm. 
 
 Why heed the Future's distant Weal or Woe? 
 Enjoy the Hour, the Morn we ne'er may know; 
 To-morrow, — we may join that Caravan 
 Which started Seven Thousand Years ago.^
 
 Stropfies of Omar Khayyam. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 With Tales of future pains men threaten me, 
 They say there is a Hell in store for thee ; — 
 Love, if there is a Hell for all like us. 
 Their Heaven as empty as my Palm will be. 
 
 Yes, Loved One, when the Laughing Spring is 
 
 blowing 
 With Thee beside me and the Cup o'erflowing, 
 I pass the day upon this Waving Meadow, 
 And dream the while, no thought on Heaven 
 
 bestowing. 
 
 Our Life will end, it flies on foot amain, 
 What boots whether ])assed in joy or pain 
 At Balkh or Naishiipdr? * Come, till your cup. 
 We die, — but still the Moon will wax and wane.
 
 10 Strophes of Omar Khayyam. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Love! oh that God would build his World anew 
 While Aught of Life remains to Me and You, 
 And that He would our Names obliterate, 
 Or show more Mercy, — be more Generous too. 
 
 Ah, with what Skill Thy Maker's Hand designed 
 
 Thee, 
 And with what Grace and Lovliness combined 
 
 Thee; 
 But oft I wonder why he made thee so, 
 And then in this poor Earthen Home confined 
 
 Thee.9 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 A few short Fleeting Days, — our Life fliies fast, 
 'Tis gone, it flies as flies the Desert-blast, 
 But yet there are two days of neither Joy 
 Nor Pain, the Day to come, the Day now past.
 
 Strophes of Omar Khayyam. 11 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Ob, might the Vintage Time forever last ! 
 The month of Ramaziin^" not yet has passed, — 
 But while a Jar of Wine remains to us — 
 What thinkest Thou that Ave shall keep the Fast? 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 To Wisdom's Daughter I was one time wed, 
 Thereafter Fruitless Dogma shared my bed, 
 Her too I have divorced now from my roof. 
 And ta'en the Daughter of the Vine instead. 
 
 Come, fill a sparkling Cup and from the' Creed 
 Of One and All the Seventy Sects be freed," 
 And to the Riddle of Futurity, 
 The Answer in the Flowing Goblet read.
 
 12 Strophes of Omar Khayyam. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 The Morn M^lien from my Eve's Carouse I die 
 I will not sue for Mercy from the Sky, 
 Yes, Love, for Thee and Wine I still shall yearn, 
 Though Sinner, Heaven and Hell I will defy. 
 
 XXiX. 
 
 Soon from the Book of Life our Names shall fade, 
 And in the Arms of Death we shall be laid, 
 A little while and we shall turn to Dust, — 
 Come boy! my glass fill up; be not dismayed. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 The fears of Death from your Illusions rise. 
 For Death is but the Door to Paradise, 
 The Breath of Jesus hath revived my Soul,- 
 The Tales of Everlasting Death, are Lies.^^
 
 Strophes of Omar Khayyam. 13 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 The Koran's Word, oft called the 'world sublime,' 
 Is seldom read, and not in every Clime, 
 But on the Goblet's Rim there is a Verse, 
 Men read at every place, at every time.^^ 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Come bring the Juice whose dazzling Brightness 
 
 vies 
 With these same Houris' merry sparkling eyes. 
 And which, like a Chain with Links of Iron, holds 
 Within its strong embrace, both Fools and Wise. 
 
 Yes, bid the Sdki fill the Brimming Measure, 
 And may thy closing days be spent in Pleasure, 
 For, when thy Dust within the Ground is laid, 
 'T will ne'er be sought as some long burHed 
 Treasure.
 
 14 Btrophes of Omar Khayyam. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 One Morn while sitting by the Taverns' Door 
 I heard a Voice in Accents Mild Implore, 
 " Come, fill another Cup with Sparkling Wine, 
 Make Haste, the Cup of Life will soon run o'er. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 In Praise of Wine and Rose my Words shall 
 
 ring, 
 For these alone Forgetfulness bring, 
 When dead, the bricks that from my Clay are 
 
 baked. 
 May serve to build the Palace of a King. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Yes, Friend, within the Tavern thou shouldst 
 
 dwell, 
 Forever lost in Wine, for who can tell 
 The Anguish that our Sober Moments fills. 
 But when enslaved by Wine, — ah well, ah well!
 
 1 a vie est ainsi f aite, il nous la faut subir. 
 
 Le faible souffre et pleure, et 1' insense s'irrite; 
 Mais le plus sage en rit, sachant qu '11 doit mourir. 
 Rentre au tombeau muet ou 1' homme enfln s'abrite, 
 Et la sans nul souci de la terra et du ciel, 
 Repose, o malheureux, pour le temps eternel! 
 
 — Leconte de Lisle.
 
 I asl Night I broke my Cup against a stone, 
 
 An Act of Madness I must ere bemoan; — 
 Ah, knowest thou not, that I was once a Man? 
 The Fragments asked of me in plaintive tone. 
 
 The Cup I jirize above the Realms of Tils 
 The Crown of Kobdd or the Throne of Kaiiis;'* 
 A Lover's Matin Sighs are sweeter far 
 Than all the Dervish's Sobs and Groans profuse. 
 
 Thou hast prepared a Way with many a Snare, 
 And set with many a Prize to lure us there, 
 And still, Oh, God 'tis said, Thou wilt not spare. 
 The Man whose Foot-steps stumble unaware!
 
 18 Strophes of Omar Khayyam. 
 
 Why let Thy Sins of old torment Thee so? 
 What gain to Thee from all this Crushing Woe? 
 The Man who God's Commandment ne'er trans- 
 gressed, 
 Can ne'er Cod's All-Forgiving Kindness know. 
 
 Oh, Thou who in the Universe Entire 
 
 The Object art of all my fond Desire, 
 
 Far dearer art Thou than my Quickened Soul, 
 
 More precious Thou than Life's Consuming Fire. 
 
 Ah, Spirit Mine, your Life is filled with Sorrow, 
 A Respite from your Toil you ne'er can borrow, 
 I know not why you animate this Clay, 
 Since You must leave forever on the Morrow.
 
 Strophes of Omar Khayyam. 19 
 
 VII. 
 
 Of Those who have the "Loug Road" travelled 
 
 o'er, 
 Not One will bring Thee News of it, before 
 Thou too Shalt go, and heed Thee that Thou leavest 
 Without Regret, Thou shall return no inore. 
 
 vin. 
 Oh that to Heaven's Control I might aspire, 
 And sweep away this Universe Entire, 
 Then from the Ruins build Another World, 
 Where Man might sometimes reach his Heart's 
 Desire ! 
 
 No, From the Future, Hope thou ne'er sliouldsl 
 
 borrow, 
 The very Thought would fill thy Heart with Sorrow, 
 Lose not the Present jMoment in Repining, 
 For 't is not known that we shall see the Morrow.
 
 20 Strophes of Omar Khayyam. 
 
 Ye-i, when we die the World will be the same, — 
 Chaotic Darkness reigned not ere b«.came, — 
 Our Coming and our Going matters not, 
 And we shall leave behind nor Trace, nor Name. 
 
 With Swift Destruction are Fate's Arrows fraught. 
 Nor can this Worldly Wealth avail Thee aught. 
 The more I ponder on this World I see 
 The Good is Good, and all the rest is Naught. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Arise, and for my Heart's Relief I pray 
 That you v/ill tear the Veil of Fate away. 
 Quick bring a Cup, and let us drink the Wine, 
 Ere Fate shall make a Goblet of Our Clav.
 
 /'^ieco error, tempo avaro, ria fortuaa, 
 Sorda invidia. vil rabbia, iniquo zelo, 
 Crudo cor, empio ingegno, strano ardire 
 
 Non bastaranno a f anni 1' aria bruna, 
 Non mi porrann' avanli gli occhi il velo, 
 Non faran mai, cb' il mio bel sol non mire. 
 
 — Giardaru) Bruno.
 
 I. 
 T am as from Thy Crucible I came, 
 
 A Base Alloy, and though I feel my shame, 
 I cannot hope to mend my erring ways, — 
 'Tis Thine, oh Allah, and not mine, the Blame. 
 
 Oh, Thou the Maker art of Wrong and Right, 
 Whatever is, hath sprung from Thine own Might, 
 Since I am but a Humble Slave of Thine, 
 My Sins in Wrath, Thou never wilt requite. 
 
 III. 
 This ' wheel of heaven ' in its Fatal Play 
 WUl soon our Breath of Being steal away, — 
 Come rest thee on this bank, for from our dust 
 Will spring the Verdure at no distant day.
 
 24 SiropJies of Omar Khayydm. 
 
 IV. 
 
 From Birtli we all are destined for the Tomb,— 
 The Rose has but a little time to Bloom, — 
 But what is Life, this Soul-confusing Draught, 
 That man will drink until the Crack of Doom ? 
 
 V. 
 
 Why strive to know the Hidden Cause of All ? 
 Enjoy the Sweet, and bravely take the Gall, 
 For on this Checkered Board of Life we Men 
 Are moved by Fate, the Skies our Souls enthrall. 
 
 VI. 
 
 With Nature's Secrets be thou not perplexed. 
 Enjoy this World and do not fear the Next, 
 Ah, sieze this little Breath of Life as Cash, 
 With That to come. Let not thy Heart be vexed.
 
 C s f urchte die G5tter 
 
 Das Menscbengeschlecbt, 
 
 Sie halten die Herrschaft 
 
 In Ewigen Handen, 
 
 Und konnen sie brauchen, 
 
 Wie's ibnen geMlt. 
 
 — Goethe.
 
 I. 
 
 Crom all Eternity 't was known to one 
 
 The Sovereign Wine Cup I would never shun, 
 And if I failed to drink this Purple Juice, — 
 God's boasted Prescience would be undone. 
 
 II. 
 
 We all are Puppets of the Sky, we run 
 As wills the Player till the Game is done. 
 And when the Player wearies of the Sport, 
 He throws us into Darkness One by One. 
 
 III. 
 
 Whatever is, by Fate was erst designed, 
 The Maker now his Labor has resigned, 
 And all our Striving can avail us Naught, 
 For all our Acts were long ago defined.
 
 28 Strophes of Omar Khayyam. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Yes, since wliate'er the Pen of Fate has traced 
 For Tears of Man will never be erased, 
 Support thy Ills, do not bemoan thy Lot, 
 Let all of Fate's Decrees be bravely faced. 
 
 V. 
 
 'T was Allah who engraved upon my Clay 
 The Laws I was thereafter to obey, 
 And will He cast me into Raging Fire 
 Because my Actions answer to His Sway?
 
 I es plus desesperes sont les chants les plus beaux, 
 Et j' en sais d' immorlels qui sont de purs 
 sanglots. 
 
 — Alfred de Musset.
 
 A Day or two, our sorrows will be o'er, 
 
 A little while and then a Parting sore. 
 But come and taste the Dawn's Sweet breath, - 
 How oft will Dawn respire, and We no more! 
 
 What Eye can see behind the Veil of Fate? 
 What Man can Nature's Secrets penetrate? — 
 Although our Life is but a Moment's Halt, — 
 Oh, that we mi^ht its End accelerate. 
 
 III. 
 Life's Caravan unheeded steals away. 
 And with it passes all our Pleasure, nay, 
 Fear not the Pain the Future has in Store, — 
 But drink, upon us steals the Twilight gray.
 
 32 StropTies of Omar Khayyam. 
 
 Ah, since the World, oh, Love, doth grieve thee so, 
 Aud since Thy Soul, forever soon must go, 
 Thy Fleeting Days among the Roses spend, 
 Ere long the Roses from Thy Dust will grow. 
 
 The Moonlight tears the Robe of Night in twain. 
 Such Moments wilt Thou henceforth seek in vain,- 
 When we are gone the Moon will still be bright, 
 So fill Thy Cup, and all its Sweetness drain. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Our Life slips from our Grasp, we soon shall swell. 
 The Ranks of Those who in Death's Kingdom 
 
 dwell,— 
 Aud of Them All not one has e'er returned, 
 The Secrets of that Peaceful Realm to tell.
 
 Strophes of Omar Khayyam. 33 
 
 VII. 
 
 In Earth's Dark Bosom, Myriads of the Best 
 That She has known, disheartened in their Quest 
 For Truth, are sleeping, while the Waste of Naught 
 Is thronged with Those to come, and Those at rest. 
 
 Ah, since the Future's Riddles none can guess. 
 Come fill the Cup, the Cup that drowns Distress, 
 Ah, Love, yon Moon will often rise again. 
 Will rise and miss us in Her loneliness. 
 
 Before us twain were many Nights and Days, 
 The Stars have long pursued their Heavenly 
 
 ways, — 
 But tread with Lightest Foot upon this Dust, 
 T was once an Eye that beamed with Loving 
 Rays.
 
 34 Strophes of Omar KhayyAm. 
 
 X. 
 
 Oh that my Face the Brightness of this Wine 
 Might borrow, and when dead, this Claj'^of mine, 
 I pray Thee wash it with the Grape, then make 
 My Cofl3n of the tendrils of the vine. 
 
 Oh that the Soul might leave its Earthen Home 
 And wing its Flight through Heaven's Mighty 
 
 Dome, 
 What Shame, what Shame, to feel itself confined 
 Within a tenement of Basest Loam. 
 
 Night's Robe is torn, and Dawn will soon appear. 
 So fill Thy Cup and quaff the Vintage clear. 
 How oft will rosy Dawn unveil her Face, 
 When Thou and I shall be no longer Here?
 
 a. . ■7vi-*-irrm...,a
 
 pais cet acte de foi dans 1' Eternel Genie 
 
 De vouloir aujourd'hui ce qu 'il veut 
 aujourd'hui, 
 Et laisse-toi porter par la Force Infinie. 
 
 — Paul Bourget.
 
 'IX/hen I shall bow luc at the Feet of Death 
 And bird-like uU my Plumai^c scatteruth, 
 
 Make naught but Wine Jars from my Clay, per- 
 chance 
 
 The Wine's sweet Odor may restore my Breath. 
 
 Yes, when my Soul is sunk in Lasting Gloom, 
 My Body will be placed witiiin the Tomb, 
 Thereafter man will take mj' Clay, some Bricks 
 To mould, to place upon the Grave — of Whom? 
 
 III. 
 With Aristotle wise you naay contend, 
 And Ca;sar's Power may e'en transcend, — 
 But still drink Wine from Jiimshcd's Cup,'* 
 Though Bahn'im's self, the Tomb would l)c your 
 End.
 
 38 StropheK of Omar KJiayydm. 
 
 IV. 
 
 If Friends of mine you are, come cease your brawl. 
 Then fill your Cups, and when in Death I fall, 
 I pray you take my Clay and mould a Brick, 
 To stop a hole within the Tavern's Wall." 
 
 V. 
 
 How long, oh, Sdki, shall we ponder o'er 
 These Fruitless Arguments of Five and Four;" 
 Come, Siiki, tune Thy Harp, we all are Dust, 
 A Breath of Wind,— Come, fill one Goblet more. 
 
 Mid Wine and Minstrel's Songs I love to dwell. 
 My Clothes, my Heart, my Soul for Wine I sell. 
 All Earthly Cares and Griefs I toss aside, 
 Together with all Thoughts of Heaven and Hell.
 
 strophes of Omar Khayyam. 39 
 
 VII. 
 
 Ah, when Thou earnest Here what brough test Thou? 
 At Death thou wilt tlie Earth with All endow. 
 For Pears of Death Thou hast abjured the Cup, — 
 But drink or not, thy Death is sure, I trow. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 And of Them All endowed with Wit and Learning, 
 And styled by Men ' bright Torch of Wisdom burn- 
 ing,' 
 Not One has passed a Step beyond the Darkness, 
 They mused a while, then left, to Sleep returning. 
 
 When first I saw this World of Joy and Pain, 
 Assailed by Doubts that ever will remain, 
 I wondered what it meant to live, to die, — 
 The Question oft I pondered, but in vain.
 
 40 Strophes of Omar Khayyam. 
 
 X. 
 
 Fair Heaven's Teut was long since raised, 't was 
 
 Then 
 That Nature's Ways were hid from Human Ken, 
 Life's Cup the Everlasting Siiki filled 
 With Millions of these Bubbles, called Men. 
 
 Oh, Friend, to Fear why should Thy Thoughts be 
 
 lent? 
 To Earthly Sorrows be indifferent, 
 For when Thy Cloak of Being shall be rent, 
 'T will matter not howe'er Thy Life was spent. 
 
 xn. 
 Yes, Friend, since Joy and Youth my Life adorn. 
 This purple Wine I drink from Night till Morn, 
 Ah, do not curse this pain annulling Juice, — 
 Y^ou know 'tis all that cheers our Life forlorn.
 
 Strophes of Omar Khayyam. 41 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Beneath the Skies each Mortal undergoes 
 A thousand Griefs, a thousand Heartfelt Woes, 
 But still Love reigns between the Cup and Flask, 
 And Lip to Lip pure Blood between them flows. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Since Venus and the Moon have cheered the Sky, 
 Naught have Men seen with Purple Wine to vie; 
 What half as precious as this sparkling Juice, 
 Can these same thoughtless Vintners for it buy?>8 
 
 XV. 
 
 Yes, Sdki, Time will soon us both o'erthrow. 
 From this World's Fragile Tent we then must go. 
 But when a Cup of Wine is in my hand, 
 I bid farewell to all my heartfelt Woe.
 
 42 Strophes of Omar Khayyam. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Why should Thy Heart with Fears of God be 
 
 fraught? 
 When He designed this World, to Thee no Thought 
 He gave, Thy hopes of Heaven are not worth 
 A Moment's Happiness at random Caught. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 In Praise of Wine and Cup ray Moments glide; — 
 Ah, Faithful Devotee, You boast vrith pride, 
 That Wisdom is your only Master here, — 
 But know you, that myself was Wisdom's Guide. " 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Come, fill the morning Cup, the Sun is high, 
 Come tune Thy Hai*p, asleep Thou shouldst not lie. 
 The swift and sure return of Tyr and Dai-" 
 Has crushed a thousand Kings like Jdm and Kai.
 
 Strophes of Omar Khayyam. 43 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Yes, when within the Ground my Dust is laid, 
 And Name and Memory to a Story fade, 
 Ah, Brother mine, I humbly beg of Thee, 
 That Drinking Vessels from My Clay be made. 
 
 XX. 
 
 Away with all that grieves the soul, for soon 
 We leave this World where Wine the richest Boon 
 Of Mortals is, a single Draught outvies 
 Whatever lies, betwixt the Fish and Moon. 21 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Yes drink ; — how many Lives their Way will wind?— 
 
 The Soul will vainly try its Clay to find 
 
 When Judgment calls, for this same Skull, the 
 
 Seat 
 Of Joy and Pain, the Potter's Heel will grind.
 
 44 Strophes of Omar Khayyam. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 While on this little Earth you humbly crawl, 
 Drink Wine, the Past you never can recall, 
 Since Ruin soon will overspread its Face, 
 In Wine, be you too, ruined once for all. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Whene'er a Cup of crimson Wine I hold. 
 My Soul seems chained within the Cup of Gold, 
 And for a Time from earthly Shackles freed. 
 All Nature's Secrets to my Mind unfold.
 
 "AH ephemeral, dead long ago; some have not 
 been remembered even for a short time, and 
 others have become the heroes of fables, and others 
 again have disappeared even from fables." 
 
 — M. Antoninus.
 
 A Bird upon the crumbling walls of Tiis, 
 
 Addressed the grinning Skull of Kai-Kaius;- 
 " The Rumbling of Thy Drums affright no Ears, 
 Thy Trumpets now are tarnished from Disuse." 
 
 11. 
 This World is nothing but an Inn decayed, 
 A transient Resting Place of Light and Shade, 
 A Banquet which a thousand J:lrasheds-- left, a 
 
 tomb, 
 Wherein a thousand Bahr^m Gours are laid. 
 
 I chanced a Potter at his Work to meet, 
 While Heads and Handles for his Vessels neat, 
 Upon his swiftly turning wheel he shaped; — 
 From Mouldering Pates of Kings and Beggar's 
 Feet.
 
 48 Strophes of Omar Khayyam. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The Potter heeds no silent^Tongue's appeal, 
 His Hands no Tender Mercy ever feel, 
 Though 'tis Perfdun's-' Heart, — Kai Kosru's Head, 
 That whirls in Anguish on his rapid Wheel. 
 
 V. 
 
 A sighing bit of Breathing Claj', this Vase, 
 Once humbly bowed before a Woman's Face, 
 This earthen Handle fixed about its Neck, 
 Did oft in Love a Cypress Form embrace. 
 
 VI. 
 
 My Manuscript of Youth has dusty grown, 
 The Roses of My Spring will soon be blown, 
 The joyful Bird of Youth that hovered near,— 
 I know not Whence it came, nor Whither flown.
 
 Strophes of Omar Khayyam. 49 
 
 VII. 
 
 The Potter deftly shapes Lis turning Clay, 
 And knead and mould it with what Skill he may; 
 He little thinks it once of Human kind, — 
 The Earth he mangles in his Humor gay. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Ah Mignon, Mignon, fill the Crystal Glass, 
 Though Houris fair in Heaven cannot surpass 
 Thy Lovliness, — but one short day or two, — 
 And Thou wilt be no more than Dust, fair lass! 
 
 IX. 
 
 I saw a Potter at his Work today. 
 With rudest Hand he shaped his yielding Clay, 
 " Oh gently Brother, do not treat me thus, 
 I too, was once a Man," I heard it say.
 
 'or he that wavereth is like a wave of the sea 
 driven with the wiud and tossed. 
 
 — James I., 6.
 
 I. 
 
 ■VX/ithin the Labyrinth of Human Creeds, 
 
 Of Truth and Wisdom I have sought the Seeds, 
 By fairest Flowers hired to venture on, 
 I ne'er have gathered Aught but worthless Weeds. 
 
 II. 
 The Ways of God are veiled from Human Ken, 
 Yes, Night and Day, 'tis three score years and ten. 
 That I have pondered o'er them, — but in vain, — 
 My Thoughts have ne'er been cleared by Tongue 
 or Pen. 
 
 The Mosque, the Kaaba, — 'tis a Prison Cell, — 
 A Chain, the Chimes that from the Steeple swell. 
 The Rosary, the Mehrab,-* and the Church, 
 Are like the Cross, all Signs of Slavery fell.
 
 52 Strophes of Omar Khayyam. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Oh Thou hast made us Slaves to Passion's Sway, 
 Although our Master we must ne'er obey; — 
 But tell me this, how can we tip the Jar, 
 And still not let its Contents run away? 
 
 V. 
 
 When lost in Darkness Stars and Skies shall be, 
 My Soul, released, will wing its flight to Thee, 
 And it will ask, Oh God of Righteousness, 
 Why takest Thou the Life Thou Gavest me? 
 
 VI. 
 
 For Three Score Years within the School of Life, 
 I heard the Wrangling and the Endless Strife 
 About this World and That to Come,— and 
 
 learned, — 
 That all their Schemes with Errors Base were rife!
 
 Strophes of Omar Khayijdm. 53 
 
 Ah Brother, but a little while, and Thou shalt tiud 
 Thy Lasting Home the ' Secret Veil' behind; — 
 Rejoice Thy Heart and banish Grief, for know;— 
 Thy Source, Thy Goal, has never been defined. 
 
 What man believes that He who made the Vase 
 Will sometime shatter it in Anger base? 
 The Maker of these weak misguided Men, 
 Will surely not in Wrath His Works efface. 
 
 Oh Khdjah-'' Grant a single Wish I pray. 
 Point out the Road that leads to God, — but nay,- 
 My Steps have found the Narrow Path aright, 
 And Thou it is, who wandcreth from the way.
 
 54 StrojyJies of Omar Khayyam. 
 
 From Faith to Disbelief is but a Breath, 
 From Doubt to Faith, but one, the Dervish saith, 
 Come gaily let us pass our fleeting Days, — 
 A Little While then cometh the Angel Death. 
 
 This azure vaulted Heaven, a Despot sore, 
 Of all the Problems that we ponder o'er, 
 Not One has solved; whene'er it finds a Heart 
 In Grief 'tis sure to add one Sorrow more. 
 
 XII. 
 
 This Universe is but a Mantle worn. 
 
 The Jehun^^ from our flooding Tears is born. 
 
 And Hell a fire ignited by our Griefs, 
 
 And Heaven a respite from our Life forlorn.
 
 I e Deiste contemple un pur je ne sais quoi, 
 Lointain, par qui le monde, en s'ordonnant, 
 commence; 
 Et le savant, qui rit de leur sainte demence, 
 Nomme son Dieu Nature et n'en fait qu'une loi. 
 
 A insi roulent toujours, du neant aux idoles, 
 
 Du blaspheme aux credo, les multitudes foUes, 
 Dieu n' est pas rien, mais Dieu n'est personne; ilest 
 
 Tout. 
 
 — Sully Prudhomme.
 
 'T'his Spirit which the Universe contains, 
 
 Shines in the Rose, then in the Lion reigns, 
 Although the Outward Forms may pass away. 
 The Spirit still remains, yes still remains. 
 
 II. 
 At times Thou art concealed, and then auon 
 Thy subtle Essence casteth Thou upon 
 All Things Existent twixt the Earth and Moon; 
 •Thou art the Player and the Lookcr-ou. 
 
 lU. 
 
 What may this Moving Panorama be? 
 Ah would that I could tell it all to Thee; 
 'Tis Something tossed up by the boundless Vast, 
 That will return to that same Unknown Sea.
 
 58 Strophes of Omar Khayyam. 
 
 A Turning Magic Lantern Shown this World, 
 Around the Sun as Candle swiftly whirled, 
 While Mortals are but Phantom Figures traced 
 Upon the Shade, forever Onward hurled. 
 
 Oh would there were a Place unknown to care, 
 And that our Weary Road might take us there ;- 
 So after many Years, we might burst forth 
 Again, as bud in Spring the Roses fair. 
 
 This Universe is but a Body old 
 Which doth the Right,^' as Deathless Spirit hold, 
 i^j While, Elements and Skies and Men, 
 
 Are Parts of One, Whose Laws the Whole enfold.
 
 'T'he soul's dark cottage, battered and decayed. 
 Lets in new light through chinks that time has 
 made. 
 
 — Edmund Waller.
 
 I. 
 
 Tu vainly seeking Thee no Rest we tiiid, 
 
 But in and out the Labyrinth we wind 
 
 Though every Tree and Rock proclaimeth Thy 
 
 Name 
 And Work, our Ears are Deaf, our Eyes are blind. 
 
 II. 
 Oh Allah, 1,'rant my Captive Heart Thy Rest, 
 Be merciful unto my grief-torn Breast, 
 Forgive these Feet which lead me to the Inn, 
 Forgive this Hand which takes the Vine's 
 Bequest.=- 
 
 iir. 
 Unlock the Door, Oh Allah, Thine is the Key, 
 Thy Hand reach forth and deign to succor me. 
 To Human Aid I will not trust myself. 
 For All will perish, saving only Thee. 
 
 10
 
 62 Strophes of Onuir Khayyam. 
 
 I am, just as Thy Hand my nature cast, 
 Mid countless Benefits my Life has passed. 
 And now I fain would know if Sins of mine. 
 Can overthrow Thy IMercy at the Last. 
 
 The Two and Seventy Wrangling Sects contend. 
 And ever strive their Crimibling Creeds to mend, 
 But I have cast them. One and All away, 
 And Thou, Oh Allah, art my only End. 
 
 Allah no Profit from my Homage hath, 
 And though I oft have strayed from Virtue's Path, 
 'T will matter not, He will forgive I know, 
 For He is quick to Pardon, slow to Wrath.
 
 Strophes of Omar Khayyam. G3 
 
 Till When these thouglits of what is Thine or 
 
 Mine V 
 Shall I my Life to Joy or Grief resign? 
 'T will not be known until my Spirit Hies, 
 Whether the Life I live, is Mine or Thine. 
 
 vin. 
 Lives there a Man who breaketh no Decree? — 
 And if I err 'tis writ Thou chasteneth Me, — 
 What, if I sin and in return Tbou strlkest, — 
 AVhat is the dilTerence between Me and Thee? 
 
 At times to some frail earthen Vase we turn, 
 Again we seize the Book some Truth to Learn; 
 Our Lives are neither wholly Good nor Bad, 
 Oh thinkest Thou that we fore'er shall burn?
 
 64 8lro])7ie.s of Omar Khayyam. 
 
 Adina''^ is reserved for Fast,— but staj', 
 Why should' St Thou put the Cup and Flask away? 
 I know the Grape is then forbidden, but — 
 Worship Omnipotence, and not the Day. 
 
 Ah do not think the Skies our Souls enthrall, 
 The Griefs, the Joys that to us Mortals fall, 
 Come not from Thence, nor are they known to 
 
 Fate, 
 Heaven is far more helpless than us all. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Oh thou who pratest of Hell's Eternal Fire 
 And threatens the Man who sins with Anger dire. 
 How canst tiiou pardon Omar's faults, to God's 
 Prerogative how darest thou aspire?
 
 Wen, muerte, tan escondida, 
 
 Que no te sienta venir, 
 Porque el placer del morir 
 No me buelva ;'i dar la vida. 
 
 — Escriva. 
 
 "r^ovuG Death, but gently come and still;— 
 All sound of thine approach restrain, 
 Lest joy of thee my heart should fill 
 And turn it back to life again."
 
 \^iUiin the Maze of Human Faith and Doubt 
 I erst while loved to wander round about. 
 But No One have I met the Way to clear, 
 And through the Entrance Door I passed Without. 
 
 Forget the Day Old Time has ta'en from thee, 
 From Thoughts of the Morrow thou e'er shouldst 
 
 flee. 
 Build not on That to Come, on That Long Passed, 
 Lose not thy Life, though bright it may not be. 
 
 III. 
 How Long will Reason's Chains oppress my Soul? 
 What boots it whether One Day or Hundreds roll 
 Above my Head, come fill the Cup, My Clay 
 The Potter soon will shape into a Bowl.
 
 68 Strophes of Omar Kliayydm. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Last Night into a Potter's Shop I strayed. 
 Where Jars and Pots a many were displayed. 
 And All cried out: where is the Potter now, 
 And those who bought and sold, where are they 
 laid? 
 
 I dreamed a Sage exclaimed to me, " Oh Son 
 In Sleep, ' the Rose of Fortune ' blooms for none, 
 Why sleep, when Sleep is but a Twin to Death? — 
 Ah Thou shalt sleep enough when Life is done." 
 
 Oh grind My dust when dead with Might and 
 
 Main, 
 And thus my Loss will be my Fellow's Gain, 
 Then take my Dust and knead with Wine a Jar, 
 That sometime shall that self-same Wine contain.
 
 Strophes of Omar Khayydm. 69 
 
 What Profit from our Coiniug and our Going? 
 And from tlie Seed of Hope tluit wo are sowing? — 
 Ah, Where are Those wlio lived and passed 
 
 away? 
 Their whereabouts transcends all Human Knowing. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Khayytira, your body is a Tent, your Soul, 
 A Sultan, destined to an Unknown Goal; 
 The Dread Ferrdsli^" of Doom destroys the Tent, 
 The Moment when the Sultan's Summons toll. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Khayydm, who stitched the Tents of Wisdom's 
 
 Lore, 
 Is fallen in tiie Pit and covered o'er; 
 Death's Shears have cut the Tent-ropes of his 
 
 Life, 
 
 The World lias cast him out as worthless Store.*' 
 
 11
 
 $l0te0*
 
 NOTES. 
 
 1. Sdki, the Persian word for Cup-Bearer. 
 
 2. Daughter of the Vine, a favorite simile with the Per- 
 sian poets. 
 
 3. The force of this last line is lost in English, kit being 
 an abbreviation for the Persian word kiija. where. 
 
 4. See Note 22. 
 
 5. A satire on the Mohammedan Paradise. Koran, LVI. 
 "Tonths which shall continue in their bloom forever, shall go 
 round about to atteiul them with goblets and beakers and a 
 cup of Uowingwine; their heads shall not ache by drinking 
 the same, neither shall their reason be disturbed, and with 
 fruits of the sorts which they shall choose, and the fiesh of 
 the birds which Ihcy shall desire, and there shall accompany 
 them fair damsels having large black eyes, resembling pearls 
 hidden in their shells, as a reward for that which they shall 
 have wrought." 
 
 6. Koran, Chapter XX., T. H. ; Exodus, IV., 6; the 
 branches becoming white with buds in spring, are compared 
 with Moses' band, ' Leprous as snow.' 
 
 7. According to the Persian cosmogony the world, at that 
 time, was seven thousand years old. 
 
 8. Balkh and Naishapur, the latter Omar's birthplace, are 
 two towns in Khorassan. 
 
 9. The meaning of this quatrain is not obvious; some 
 have believed it to be addressed by the poet to his own soul, 
 while others have given it a more material signification. It 
 recalls Adrian's 'Animula! vagula, blandula.' 
 
 10. Kamaz&n, the ninth Arabic month, is devoted to fast- 
 ing.
 
 74 Notes. 
 
 11. Humanity, according to the Persians, is divided into 
 seventy-two sects. 
 
 12. The Mohammedans, in general, admit the miracles of 
 Jesus Christ, attributing to him the power of resuscitating 
 the dead with his breath. They, however, place him below 
 Mohammed. The Siifls place him on an equality with God, 
 regarding him as a Sufi who had attained the degree of the 
 ' Supteme Beatitude,' and, consequently, having the power 
 of performing all miracles. 
 
 13. Copper drinking vessels, with verses in praise of wine 
 engraved on the rim, are frequently met with in Persia. 
 
 14. Trts, an uncle of Kai-Kaifis, the latter the second king 
 of the Kaianian Dynasty, was successor to Kobad, its founder. 
 Tils is also the name of a town in Persia. 
 
 15. The Cup of Jdm occupies a place in Persian poetry 
 similar to that of the Holy Grail in medireval romances. 
 
 16. This stanza is not altogether dissimilar to Shake- 
 speare's: — 
 
 Imperial Ciesar dead and turned to clay, 
 Might stop a hole to keep the wind away ; 
 O that that earth, which kept the world in awe, 
 Should patch a wall t' expel the winter's flaw. 
 
 17. The Four Elements and the Five Senses. 
 
 18. Kisii, one of the earlier Persian poets, has a some- 
 what similar quatrain, which may be translated :— 
 
 The rose is a gift from Eden's bower, 
 Our minds in the garden grow nobler far; 
 Why does the rose dealer sell his flower? 
 What is more precious than roses are? 
 
 19. Eeferring to his scientific accomplishments. 
 
 20. Tyr and Dai, April and December, two months of the 
 Solar year, according to the calendar used by the Iranians 
 before Islam. 1
 
 Notes. 75 
 
 21. From Mah to Mahi, from fish to moou, i. e., between 
 the fish which siupports the bull, that, according to Persian 
 cosmogony, bears the earth on one of his horns, and the 
 moon; the saying, which is equivalent to the expression 
 'everything in the universe' is common with the Iranians. 
 
 22. Jamshed was the fifth king of the mythical Peshdadian 
 dynasty. His real name was Jam, which means 'liing' ; Shed 
 was added on account of the beauty of his person and of his 
 brilliant deeds. He is said to have been the founder of 
 Pcrscpolis, and the invention of wine is, by some Persian 
 historians, attributed to him. Bahram Gour was a member 
 of the Sassanian dynasty; the name Gour, which means ' wild 
 ass,' was given him on account of his foundness for hunting 
 that animal, a passion which cost him his life. The word 
 Gour. which also means 'tomb,' gives the original a force 
 which is lost in English. 
 
 23. Feridun was the second king of the second, or Peshda- 
 dian dynasty. By the Persians he was regarded as a hero and 
 a model to be copied by all potentates. Almost all the 
 Iranian poets have sung his valor, liberality and justice. 
 Kai-Kosru was the second king of the Kaianian dynasty. 
 
 2>i. M ehrab, a Mohammedan chair placed in Mosques, and 
 always turned towards the East. 
 
 25. Khajah, an orthodox Mussulman. 
 
 26. The Jchun, the C)xus. 
 
 2('. Hakk, the Arabic word for ' truth, justice, right,' is 
 one of the ' ninety and nine names of Allah,' Al-Hakk the 
 truth. 
 
 28. According to M. Nicolas, a satire apropos of the Day of 
 Judgment. The poet, by this prayer in favor of his different 
 members, calls to mind that God has nothing to accord, and 
 nothing for which to pardon matter, which has become inert
 
 76 Notes. 
 
 after its separation from the soul, which has again entered, 
 the Siifis say, into the Divine Essence. 
 
 29. Adiua is the Mohammedan Friday. 
 
 30. Fcrrash, a Persian body-servant, who aceompanieB his 
 master on journeys, setting up his tent, etc., etc. 
 
 31. A quaint quatrain, referring to his poetical name of 
 the 'tent-maker.'