Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám: English, French, German, Italian, and Danish Translations Comparatively Arranged in Accordance with the Text of Edward FitzGerald's Version with Further Selections, Notes, Biographies, Bibliographies, and Other Material (Google eBook)

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L.C. Page, 1897 - 655 pages
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Page clx - 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 TO-MORROW stare, A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries, "Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There.
Page clxviii - Strange, is it not ? that of the myriads who Before us pass'd the door of Darkness through Not one returns to tell us of the Road, Which to discover we must travel too.
Page cxxvii - Are not my days few? cease then, And let me alone, that I may take comfort a little, Before I go whence I shall not return, Even to the land of darkness and the shadow of death; A land of darkness, as darkness itself; And of the shadow of death, without any order, And where the light is as darkness.
Page clxv - Hair, they say, 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 ; I.II.
Page clxi - Myself when young did eagerly frequent Doctor and Saint, and heard great argument About it and about: but evermore Came out by the same door as in I went.
Page clxxi - 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.
Page 132 - 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.
Page clviii - into the world I blow : At once the silken tassel of my Purse Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw.' XVI. For those who husbanded the Golden grain, And those who flung it to the winds like Rain, Alike to no such aureate Earth are turn'd As, buried once, Men want dug up again.
Page clix - And we, that now make merry in the Room They left, and Summer dresses in new bloom, Ourselves must we beneath the Couch of Earth Descend — ourselves to make a Couch — for whom...
Page 120 - Oh threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise! One thing at least is certain— This Life flies; One thing is certain and the rest is Lies; The Flower that once has blown for ever dies.

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