77.
This bosom friend, on whom you so rely, Seems to clear wisdom's eyes an enemy; Choose not your friends from this rude multitude, Their converse is a plague 'tis best to fly.
77. Bl. C. L. N. A. I. J. The MSS. transpose the lines.
78.
O foolish one! this moulded earth is naught, This particoloured vault of heaven is naught; Our sojourn in this seat of life and death Is but one breath, and what is that but naught?
78. Bl. L. N. _Shakl i mujassam_, the earth. Bl.
79.
Some wine, a Houri (Houris if there be), A green bank by a stream, with minstrelsy;-- Toil not to find a better Paradise If other Paradise indeed there be!
79. Bl. C. L. N. A. I. J. _Dozakh i farsuda_, an old hell, _i.e._, vain things which create a hell for you. Bl.
80.
To the wine-house I saw the sage repair, Bearing a wine-cup, and a mat for prayer; I said, O Shaikh, what does this conduct mean?
Said he, Go drink! the world is naught but air.
80. N.
81.
The Bulbul to the garden winged his way, Viewed lily cups, and roses smiling gay, Cried in ecstatic notes, O live your life, You never will re-live this fleeting day.
81. N. The MSS. have a variation of this beginning, _Bulbul chu. Jam .
ra_. See Bl., Prosody, p. 12.
82.
Thy body is a tent, where harbourage The Sultan spirit takes for one brief age; When he departs, comes the tent-pitcher death, Strikes it, and onward moves, another stage.
82. C. L. N. A. I. J. _Manzil_, in line 2, lodging; in line 3, stage _Khimaye_, a tent.
83.
Khayyam, who long time stitched the tents of learning, Has fallen into a furnace, and lies burning, Death's shears have cut his thread of life asunder, Fate's brokers sell him off with scorn and spurning.
83. C. L. N. A. B. I. J.
84.
In the sweet spring a grassy bank I sought, And thither wine, and a fair Houri brought; And, though the people called me graceless dog, Gave not to Paradise another thought!
84. C. L. N. A. B. I. J. _Batar_, a contraction. See Bl., Prosody, p.
10.
85.
Sweet is rose-ruddy wine in goblets gay, And sweet are lute and harp and roundelay; But for the zealot who ignores the cup, 'Tis sweet when he is twenty leagues away!
85. N. The MSS. have a variation of this. Note _Khush_.
86.
Life, void of wine, and minstrels with their lutes, And the soft murmurs of Irakian flutes, Were nothing worth: I scan the world and see: Save pleasure, life yields only bitter fruits.
86. L. N. See an answer to this in No. 97.
87.
Make haste! soon must you quit this life below, And pass the veil, and Allah's secrets know, Make haste to take your pleasure while you may, You wot not whence you come, nor whither go.
87. C. L. N. A. I. In line 3 scan _nidaniyaz_.
88.
Depart we must! what boots it then to be, To walk in vain desires continually?
Nay, but if heaven vouchsafe no place of rest, What power to cease our wanderings have we?
88. N. In line 3 scan _jayiga_. Bl., Prosody, p. 15.
89.
To chant wine's praises is my daily task, I live encompassed by cup, bowl and flask; Zealot! if reason be thy guide, then know That guide of me doth ofttimes guidance ask.
89. C. L. N. A. I. J. In line 1 scan _maddahiyi_; and compare Horace, _Edocet artes; Fecundi calices quem non fecere disertum._
90.
O men of morals! why do ye defame, And thus misjudge me? I am not to blame.
Save weakness for the grape, and female charms, What sins of mine can any of ye name?