of Malek was illustrated by the Gelalaan era; and all errors, whether past or future, were corrected by a computation of time which surpasses the Julian and approaches the accuracy of the Gregorian style."

Omar Khayyám was a speculative philosopher and poet, as well as an astronomer.

Of his Rubáiyát "Stanzas," only one manuscript, written at Shiras, in 1460, exists in England; it contains one hundred and fifty-eight quatrains, the first, second, and fourth lines usually, though not invariably, rhyming together. About twothirds of this manuscript was translated into English by Edward Fitzgerald in 1872. A superb edition of this translation was published in 1884, at Boston, in a large folio volume, profusely illustrated by Elihu Vedder; the illustrations occupying some ten times as much space as the text. If we could conceive of the Greek Anacreon and the Roman Lucretius combined into one being, we should have something like the Persian Omar Khayyam. Of him and his poem, Mr. Fitzgerald says:

66

Having failed of finding any Providence but destiny, and any world but this, he set about making the most of it, preferring rather to soothe the soul into acquiescence with things as he saw them than to perplex it with vain disquietude after what they might be. I have arranged Rubáiyát

into a sort of Eclogue, with perhaps a little less than equal proportion of the 'Drink and makemerry,' which recurs over-frequently in the original. Either way, the result is sad enough. Saddest, VOL. XVIII.-5

perhaps, when most ostentatiously merry; more apt to move sorrow than anger toward the old Tent-maker, who, after vainly endeavoring to unshackle his steps from destiny, and to catch some glimpses of to-morrow, falls back upon to-day (which has outlasted so many to-morrows) as the only ground he has got to stand upon, however momently slipping from under his feet."

Mr. Vedder arranges the quatrains somewhat differently from Mr. Fitzgerald, whose order of enumeration we follow.

SELECTIONS FROM THE "RUBÁIYÁT."

I.

Wake! for the Sun who scattered into flight
The stars before him from the field of Night,

Drives Night along with them from Heaven, and strikes

The Sultan's turret with a shaft of Light.

II.

Before the phantom of False-Morning died,
We thought a Voice within the Tavern cried,
"When all the Temple is prepared within,
Why nods the drowsy Worshipper outside?"

III.

And as the cock crew, those who stood before
The Tavern shouted, "Open, then, the door!
You know how little time we have to stay,
And once departed, may return no more."

XLI.

Perplexed no more with Human or Divine,
To-morrow's tangle to the winds resign,
And lose your fingers in the kisses of
The Cypress-slender minister of Wine.

XLII.

And if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press,
Ends-in what all begins and ends-in "Yes!"
Think, then, you are To-day what Yesterday
You were-To-morrow you shall be not less.

XLIII.

So when the Angel of the darker Drink
At last shall find you at the river-brink,
And offering his cup invite your Soul
Forth to your lip to quaff-you shall not shrink.

XLIV.

Why, if the Soul can fling the dust aside

And naked on the air of Heaven ride,

Were't not a shame-were't not a shame for him

In the clay carcass crippled to abide ?

XLV.

'Tis but a tent where takes his one-day's rest A Sultan to the realm of death addrest,

The Sultan rises, and the dark Ferbásh Strikes, and prepares it for another guest.

XLVI.

And fear not lest Existence, closing your
Account and mine, should know the like no more.
The Eternal Saki from that bowl has poured
Millions of bubbles like us-and will pour.

XLVII.

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 Seven Seas should heed a pebble cast.

XLVIII.

A moment's halt-a momentary taste
Of Being from the well amid the waste-

And lo! the phantom caravan has reached The Nothing it set out from. Oh, make haste!

XLIX.

Would you that spangle of Existence spend
About the Secret-quick about it, friend!

A Hair perhaps divides the False and True,
And upon what, prithee, does Life depend?

L.

A Hair, perhaps, divides the False and True;
Yes; and a single letter were the clew-

Could you but find it-to the Treasure-house, And, peradventure, to the Master, too;

LI.

Whose secret Presence through Creation's veins
Running, quicksilver-like, eludes your pains,
Taking all shapes from Fish to Moon,
They change and perish all-but He remains,

LII.

A moment guessed; then back behind the fold. Immured of darkness, round the Drama rolled, Which, for the pastime of Eternity,

He does Himself conclude, enact, behold.

LIII.

But if in vain down on the stubborn floor
Of Earth, and up to Heaven's unopening door
You gaze To-day, while You are You, how then
To-morrow You, when shall be You no more?

LIV.

Waste not your hour, nor in the vain pursuit
Of This and That endeavor and dispute;
Better be jocund with the fruitful Grape
Than sadden after none-or bitter fruit.

LV.

You know, my friends, with what a brave carouse I made a second marriage in my house;

Divorced old barren Reason from my bed, And took the Daughter of the Vine to spouse.

LVI.

For Is and Isn't with rule and line,

And Up-and-down by logic I define,

Of all that one should care to fathom, I Was never deep in anything but Wine.

LVII.

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.

LVIII.

And lately by the Tavern-door agape
Came shining through the dark an Angel-shape,
Bearing a vessel on his shoulder; and
He bade me taste of it: and 'twas the Grape !

LIX.

The Grape, that can with logic absolute
The two-and-seventy jarring sects confute;
The sovereign Alchemist that, in a truce,
Life's leaden metal into gold transmutes.

LXIII.

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 forever dies.

LXIV.

Strange, is it not, that of the myriads who Before us passed the door of Darkness through,