A Concordance to Fitzgerald's Translation of the Rubʹaiyʹat of Omar KhayyʹamMacmillan & Company, 1900 - 172 страница |
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Angel blows Bowl ciii cvii Darkness discuss'd distant Drum Door Drink Dust Earth's first Clay errand reach Fate fire of Spring flaming shoulders half so precious Hátim Heav'n Herbage invites your Soul Kaikobád liii Lip you press little hour lovely Head lvii lxii lxiv lxix lxvi lxvii lxxi lxxii lxxiv lxxix lxxv Mahmúd Night OMAR KHAYYÁM Potter Predestination Preface Prophet's Paradise reach the spot return'd Ringdove rolling Rose Smoke of Hell take the Cash Tavern THEE Thou Throne of Saturn TO-DAY TO-MORROW Veil Vessel viii Vine Vintage whence Wilderness is Paradise Wine xcii xciii xciv xcix xcvi xcvii xlii xliii xliv xlix xlv I E xlvi xlvii xvii xxii xxiv xxix xxvi xxviii xxxi xxxiv xxxix XXXV xxxviii
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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.