A Grammarian's Funeral 2761 Image the whole, then execute the parts→ Fancy the fabric Quite, efe you build, ere steel strike fire from quartz, (Here's the town-gate reached: there's the market-place Gaping before us.) Yea, this in him was the peculiar grace (Hearten our chorus!) That before living he'd learn how to live No end to learning: Earn the means first-God surely will contrive Use for our earning. Others mistrust and say, "But time escapes: Live now or never!" He said, "What's time? Leave Now for dogs and apes! Man has Forever." Back to his book then: deeper drooped his head: Calculus racked him: Leaden before, his eyes grew dross of lead: Tussis attacked him. "Now, master, take a little rest!"—not he! (Caution redoubled, Step two abreast, the way winds narrowly!) Back to his studies, fresher than at first, Fierce as a dragon He (soul-hydroptic with a sacred thirst) Sucked at the flagon. Oh, if we draw a circle premature, Heedless of far gain, Greedy for quick returns of profit, sure Bad is our bargain! Was it not great? did not he throw on God, (He loves the burthen)— God's task to make the heavenly period Perfect the earthen? Did not he magnify the mind, show clear Just what it all meant? He would not discount life as fools do here, Paid by instalment. He ventured neck or nothing-heaven's success "Wilt thou trust death or not?" He answered "Yes! That low man seeks a little thing to do, Sees it and does it: This high man, with a great thing to pursue, That low man goes on adding one to one, This high man, aiming at a million, Misses an unit. That, has the world here—should he need the next, This, throws himself on God, and unperplexed So, with the throttling hands of death at strife, Still, through the rattle, parts of speech were rife: While he could stammer He settled Hoti's business-let it be! Properly based Oun— Gave us the doctrine of the enclitic De, Dead from the waist down. Well, here's the platform, here's the proper place: Hail to your purlieus, All ye highfliers of the feathered race, Swallows and curlews! Here's the top-peak; the multitude below Live, for they can, there: This man decided not to Live but Know Bury this man there? Here-here's his place, where meteors shoot, clouds form, Lightnings are loosened, Stars come and go! Let joy break with the storm, Peace let the dew send! Lofty designs must close in like effects: Leave him-still loftier than the world suspects, Loftily lying, Living and dying. Robert Browning [1812-1880] Rubaiyát of Omar Khayyam 2763 E RUBÁIYAT OF OMAR KHÁYYẨM For the Sun who scattered into flight before him from the Field of Night, Night along with them from Heaven, and strikes n's Turret with a Shaft of Light. e phantom of False morning died, nt a Voice within the Tavern cried, all the Temple is prepared within, s the drowsy Worshiper outside?" ne Cock crew, those who stood before ern shouted-"Open then the Door! now how little while we have to stay, e departed, may return no more." New Year reviving old Desires, ghtful Soul to Solitude retires, the WHITE HAND OF MOSES on the Bough and Jesus from the ground suspires. eed is gone with all his Rose, shyd's Seven-ringed Cup where no one knows; Fill a Ruby kindles in the Vine, y a Garden by the Water blows. id's lips are locked; but in divine bing Pehleví, with "Wine! Wine! Wine! Wine!"-the Nightingale cries to the Rose low cheek of hers t' incarnadine. Il the Cup, and in the fire of Spring rat Naishápúr or Babylon, Each Morn a thousand Roses brings, you say; And this first Summer month that brings the Rose Shall take Jamshyd and Kaikobád away. Well, let it take them! What have we to do With me along the strip of Herbage strown Where name of Slave and Sultán is forgot— A Book of Verses underneath the Bough, Some for the Glories of this World; and some Look to the blowing Rose about us-"Lo, And those who husbanded the Golden grain, The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face; Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám 2765 in this battered caravanserai Portals are alternate Night and Day, ay the Lion and the Lizard keep purts where Jamshyd gloried and drank deep; times think that never blows so red his reviving Herb whose tender Green ny Beloved, fill the Cup that clears Some we loved, the loveliest and the best we that now make merry in the Room y left, and Summer dresses in new bloom, urselves must we beneath the Couch of Earth cend ourselves to make a Couch-for whom? make the most of what we yet may spend, ore we too into the Dust descend; Just into Dust, and under Dust, to lie, s Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and-sans End!) |