Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám in English Verse, Edward Fitzgerald: The Text of the Fourth Edition, Followed by that of the First; with Notes Showing the Extent of His Indebtedness to the Persian Original; and a Biographical Preface
Houghton, Mifflin, 1888 - 124 страница
Шта други кажу - Напишите рецензију
Нисмо пронашли ниједну рецензију на уобичајеним местима.
Друга издања - Прикажи све
according appeared asking beauties better Bird blows Bowl bring buried clay close contains copy cries Darkness died Door drink Dust Earth edition English Face Fate Figures Fitzgerald fling friends Garden give gone Grape hand Head heart Heaven Hope Khayam late leave Light Line live look Lord Love Mons Moon morning moves mystical Naishápúr natural never Nicolas Night Nishapur Omar Khayyám Omar's once Oriental original perhaps Persian poems poet poetical Potter present printed Quatrain quoted refer rendered rest Rose round Rubáiyát says sense Seven Soul Spring stanza story Súfi suggested Sultán taste Tavern tell thee thing Thou thought tion TO-DAY To-morrow tomb translated True turn verse Vessel whither Wind Wine
Страница 109 - Nay but, O man, who art thou that repliest against God? Shall the thing formed say to him that formed it, Why hast thou made me thus? Hath not the potter power over the clay, of the same lump to make one vessel unto honour, and another unto dishonour?
Страница 87 - Think, in this batter'd caravanserai Whose portals are alternate night and day, How Sultan after Sultan with his pomp Abode his destined hour and went his way. They say the lion and the lizard keep The Courts where Jamshyd gloried and drank deep : And Bahram, that great hunter — the wild ass Stamps o'er his head, but cannot break his sleep.
Страница 89 - 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 ! XXIV.
Страница 57 - Each Morn 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 Jamshyd and Kaikobad away.
Страница 60 - I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled; That every Hyacinth the Garden wears Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head.
Страница 97 - The Vine had struck a fibre: which about If clings my Being — let the Dervish flout; Of my Base metal may be filed a Key, That shall unlock the Door he howls without.
Страница 98 - Oh Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make And ev'n with Paradise devise the Snake: For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man Is blacken'd — Man's Forgiveness give — and take!
Страница 96 - 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.