179 quotes
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.
FitzGerald, Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám (1859)
With me along some Strip of Herbage strown
That just divides the desert from the sown,
Where name of Slave and Sultán scarce is known,
And pity Sultán Mahmúd on his Throne.
FitzGerald, Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám (1859)
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."
FitzGerald, Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám (1859)
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.
FitzGerald, Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám (1859)
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.
FitzGerald, Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám (1859)
The Revelations of Devout and Learn'd
Who rose before us, and as Prophets burn'd,
Are all but Stories, which, awoke from Sleep,
They told their comrades, and to Sleep return'd.
FitzGerald, Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám (1859)
Then to the lip of this poor earthen Urn
I lean'd, the Secret of my Life to learn:
And Lip to Lip it murmur'd — "While you live
Drink! — for, once dead, you never shall return."
FitzGerald, Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám (1859)
Ah! thou hast snared this head though white as snow,
Which oft has vowed the wine-cup to forego,
And wrecked the mansion long resolve did build,
And rent the vesture penitence did sew.
A Dictionary of Oriental Quotations (1911)
What! out of senseless Nothing to provoke
A conscious Something to resent the yoke
Of unpermitted Pleasure, under pain
Of Everlasting Penalties, if broke!
FitzGerald, Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám (1859)
Ah, but my Computations, People say,
Reduced the Year to better reckoning? — Nay
'Twas only striking from the Calendar
Unborn To-morrow, and dead Yesterday.
FitzGerald, Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám (1859)
Indeed, indeed, Repentance oft before
I swore — but was I sober when I swore?
And then and then came Spring, and Rose-in-hand
My thread-bare Penitence apieces tore.
FitzGerald, Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám (1859)
You know the secret of this life my dear
Then why remain a prey to useless fear?
Bend things to suit your whims you cannot; yet
Cheer up for the few moments you are here.
A Dictionary of Oriental Quotations (1911)
Indeed the Idols I have loved so long
Have done my credit in this World much wrong:
Have drown'd my Glory in a shallow Cup
And sold my Reputation for a Song.
FitzGerald, Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám (1859)
When I am dead, with wine my body lave,
For obit chant a bacchanalian stave,
And if you need me at the day of doom,
Beneath the tavern threshold seek my grave
A Dictionary of Oriental Quotations (1911)
I wouldn't have come had I had my say,
Nor would I leave Here if I had my way;
Ah, nothing better in this world could be
Than not to come, nor be, not go away.
Ah, with the Grape my fading Life provide,
And wash the Body whence the Life has died,
And lay me, shrouded in the living Leaf,
By some not unfrequented Garden-side.
FitzGerald, Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám (1859)
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.
FitzGerald, Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám (1859)
He brought me hither to my great surprise
From life I gather but a dark surmise;
I go perforce. Why come? Why live? Why go?
I ask these questions, but find no replies.
A Dictionary of Oriental Quotations (1911)
Why, be this Juice the growth of God, who dare
Blaspheme the twisted tendril as a Snare?
A Blessing, we should use it, should we not?
And if a Curse — why, then, Who set it there?
FitzGerald, Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám (1859)
Since Heaven increases nothing but our pain,
And gives naught that it takes not back again,
The unborn ne'er would hither come if they
But knew what we at Fortune's hands sustain.