A Concordance to Fitzgerald's Translation of the Rubʹaiyʹat of Omar Khayyʹam

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Macmillan & Company, limited, 1900 - 172 страница
 

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Страница 134 - I often wonder what the Vintners buy One half so precious as the Goods they sell. LXXII Alas, that Spring should vanish with the Rose! That Youth's sweet-scented Manuscript should close The Nightingale that in the Branches sang, Ah, whence, and whither flown again, who knows!
Страница 4 - A Hair perhaps 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...
Страница 154 - 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! Alike for those who for TO-DAY prepare, And those that after some TOMORROW stare, A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries, "Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There.
Страница 56 - Yon rising Moon that looks for us again — How oft hereafter will she wax and wane; How oft hereafter rising look for us Through this same Garden — and for one in vain!
Страница 91 - With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man knead, And there of the Last Harvest sow'd the Seed: And the first Morning of Creation wrote What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.
Страница 136 - LXV If but the Vine and Love-abjuring Band Are in the Prophet's Paradise to stand, Alack, I doubt the Prophet's Paradise Were empty as the hollow of one's Hand.
Страница 164 - My Clay with long Oblivion is gone dry: But fill me with the old familiar Juice, Methinks I might recover by and by.
Страница 130 - 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 the Sea's self should heed a pebble-cast.
Страница 53 - 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 threadbare Penitence apieces tore.
Страница 158 - Listen — a moment listen ! — Of the same Poor Earth from which that Human Whisper came The luckless Mould in which Mankind was cast They did compose, and call'd him by the name.

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