The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam Jr. | Page 3

instance of the clairvoyance of the Muse. To quote from the quaint words of the native chronicler: -
"For while the Volcanic Singer was seated one day in the shade of a banyan tree, fresh cigars and abandoned stumps surrounding him like the little hills that climb the mountain, he nodded and fell asleep, still puffing lustily at a panatella, sweet and black. Now the poet's beard was long and his sleep deep, and as the weed grew shorter with each ecstatic puff, the little brand of fire drew closer and closer to the beautiful hairy mantle that fell from the poet's chin. That day the Island was wrapped in a light gauze of blue mist, an exotic smoke that was a blessing to the nostrils. It suffused the whole Island from end to end, and reminded the happy inhabitants of the Cigars of Nirvana, grown in some Plantation of the Blessed. When the smoke had passed and our heads were cleared of the narcotic fumes, we hastened to the spot where our good master had loved to sit; but there naught remained but a great heap of white ashes, sitting among the pipes and cigars that had inspired his song. Thus he died as he lived, an ardent smoker." W. I.
[1] "Sohrab and Rustam'' being a fragment of the Persian epic.
The Rub��iy��t of Omar Khayy��m, Jr.
He lets me have good tobacco, and he does not?Sophisticate it with sack-lees or oil,?Nor washes it in muscadel and grains,?Nor buries it in gravel underground,?Wrapped up in greasy leather or sour clouts;?But keeps it in fine lily-pots, that, opened,?Smell like conserve of roses or French beans.
Jonson. (The Alchemist.)
Therefore, O Love, because to all Life's plans?And projects some promotion thou impartest,?Thou still hast many zealous artisans,?Tho' not one artist.
Owen Meredith. (Marah.)
The Rub��iy��t of Omar Khayy��m, Jr.
I
Avaunt, acerbid Brat of Death, that sours?The Milk of Life and blasts the nascent Flowers!?Back to your morbid, mouldering Cairns, and let?Me do my worrying in Office Hours!
II
What though Gorgona at the Portal knocks?And charms the squamiest Serpent in her Locks -?I wear tobacchanalian Wreaths of Smoke?And there are more Perfectos in the box.
III
Now the New Year, reviving old Desires,?The craving Phoenix rises from its Fires.?Indeed, indeed Repentance oft I swore,?But last Year's Pledge with this New Year expires.
IV
Mark how Havana's sensuous-philtred Mead?Dispels the cackling Hag of Night at Need,?And, foggy-aureoled, the Smoke reveals?The Poppy Flowers that blossom from the Weed.
V
Come, fill the Pipe, and in the Fire of Spring?The Cuban Leaves upon the Embers fling,?That in its Incense I may sermonize?On Woman's Ways and all that sort of Thing.
VI
While the tired Dog Watch hailed the sea-merged Star?I heard the Voice of Travellers from Afar?Making Lament with many an Ivory Yawn,?"There's Comfort only in the Smoking Car!"
VII
See, heavenly Zamperina, damselish,?The Day has broken Night's unwholesome Dish,?The Lark is up betimes to hail the Dawn,?The Early Worm is up to catch the Fish.
VIII
Let us infest the Lintel of the Gloam?And chase the Steeds from Morning's Hippodrome,?And let Aurora's wastrel Wanderings be?A good Excuse to stay away from Home.
IX
Ah, Love, th' Invisible Buskin at the Gate?Illumes your Eyes that languored gaze and wait?And in their Incandescence seem to ask?The world-old Question: "Is my Hat On Straight?"
X
Than Basilisk or Nenuphar more fair,?Your Locks with countless glistening Pendants glare,?Then as the Fountain patters to the brim?A hundred Hairpins tumble from your Hair.
XI
So let them scatter, jangled in Duress.?What reckons Love of Hairpins more or less??Guard well your Heart and let the Hairpins go -?To lose your Heart were arrant Carelessness.
XII
Acephalous Time to febrous Lengths bestirred?Strips the lush Blossom and outstrips the Bird,?Makes sweet the Wine - I cannot say the Same?Of Women or of Songs that I have heard.
XIII
With me along that mezzotinted Zone?Where Hymen Spring is hymning to his Own -?See how grave Mahmud gambols on the Glebe?And hangs the sign TO LET upon his Throne!
XIV
A Grand Piano underneath the Bough,?A Gramophone, a Chinese Gong, and Thou?Trying to sing an Anthem off the Key -?Oh, Paradise were Wilderness enow?
XV
Chromatic Catches troll from yonder Hill?Where Bill to Beak the Wren and Whip-poor-Will?In deed and truth beshrew the Beldam Life?Who kisses first and then presents the Bill.
XVI
As one who by the Sphinx delays a space?And on her Shoulder finds a Resting Place,?Breathes an awed Question in her stupored Ear.?And lights a Sulphur Match upon her Face,
XVII
So unto Venus' Oracle in turn?I leaned the Secret of my Love to learn.?The Answering Riddle came: "She loves you, yes,?In just Proportion to the Sum you Earn."
XVIII
Some by Eolian Aloes borne along?Swound on the Dulcimer's reverbrant Thong;?But I, who make my Mecca in a Kiss,?Begrudge the Lips that waste their Time in Song.
XIX
Some clamour much for kisses, some for Few,?Others deep sup, their Thirstings to renew,?And mumble into Maunderings, but I,?In Kissing, scorn the How Much for the Who.
XX
Svelte