The most famous quatrains of FitzGerald's Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám
The top 3 according to 344 votes from people: Awake! for Morning in the Bowl of Night / Has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight: / And Lo! the Hunter of the East has caught … · Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring / The Winter Garment of Repentance fling: / The Bird of Time has but a little way … · Ah! my Belovéd, fill the Cup that clears / To-day of past Regrets and future Fears — / To-morrow?—Why, To-morrow I may be …. (Updated Aug 3, 2019.)
"A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread — and Thou", "The Moving Finger writes" and "I came like Water, and like Wind I go": the best-known quatrains of Edward FitzGerald's 1859 Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám, with the quatrain number in the first edition.
Top 21
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1
Awake! for Morning in the Bowl of Night / Has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight: / And Lo! the Hunter of the East has caught …
Quatrain I of the first edition (1859): Awake! for Morning in the Bowl of Night / Has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight: / And Lo! the Hunter of the East has caught / The Sultan's Turret in a Noose of Light.
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2
Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring / The Winter Garment of Repentance fling: / The Bird of Time has but a little way …
Quatrain VII of the first edition (1859): Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring / The Winter Garment of Repentance fling: / The Bird of Time has but a little way / To fly — and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.
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3
Ah! my Belovéd, fill the Cup that clears / To-day of past Regrets and future Fears — / To-morrow?—Why, To-morrow I may be …
Quatrain XX of the first edition (1859): Ah! my Belovéd, fill the Cup that clears / To-day of past Regrets and future Fears — / To-morrow?—Why, To-morrow I may be / Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n Thousand Years.
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4
"How sweet is mortal Sovranty!"—think some: / Others — "How blest the Paradise to come!" / Ah, take the Cash in hand and wave the Rest; …
Quatrain XII of the first edition (1859): "How sweet is mortal Sovranty!"—think some: / Others — "How blest the Paradise to come!" / Ah, take the Cash in hand and wave the Rest; / Oh, the brave Music of a distant Drum!
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5
I sometimes think that never blows so red / The Rose as where some buried Cæsar bled; / That every Hyacinth the Garden wears …
Quatrain XVIII of the first edition (1859): I sometimes think that never blows so red / The Rose as where some buried Cæsar bled; / That every Hyacinth the Garden wears / Dropt in its Lap from some once lovely Head.
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6
With them the Seed of Wisdom did I sow, / And with my own hand labour'd it to grow: / And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd— …
Quatrain XXVIII of the first edition (1859): With them the Seed of Wisdom did I sow, / And with my own hand labour'd it to grow: / And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd— / "I came like Water, and like Wind I go."
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7
The Ball no Question makes of Ayes and Noes, / But Right or Left as strikes the Player goes; / And He that toss'd Thee down into the Field, …
Quatrain L of the first edition (1859): The Ball no Question makes of Ayes and Noes, / But Right or Left as strikes the Player goes; / And He that toss'd Thee down into the Field, / He knows about it all — He knows — HE knows!
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8
Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough, / A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse — and Thou / Beside me singing in the Wilderness — …
Quatrain XI of the first edition (1859): Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough, / A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse — and Thou / Beside me singing in the Wilderness — / And Wilderness is Paradise enow.
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9
Think, in this batter'd Caravanserai / Whose Doorways are alternate Night and Day, / How Sultán after Sultán with his Pomp …
Quatrain XVI of the first edition (1859): Think, in this batter'd Caravanserai / Whose Doorways are alternate Night and Day, / How Sultán after Sultán with his Pomp / Abode his Hour or two, and went his way.
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10
Alas, that Spring should vanish with the Rose! / That Youth's sweet-scented Manuscript should close! / The Nightingale that in the Branches sang, …
Quatrain LXXII of the first edition (1859): Alas, that Spring should vanish with the Rose! / That Youth's sweet-scented Manuscript should close! / The Nightingale that in the Branches sang, / Ah, whence, and whither flown again, who knows!
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11
Myself when young did eagerly frequent / Doctor and Saint, and heard great argument / About it and about: but evermore …
Quatrain XXVII of the first edition (1859): 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.
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12
Oh, come with old Khayyam, and leave the Wise / To talk; one thing is certain, that Life flies; / One thing is certain, and the Rest is Lies; …
Quatrain XXVI of the first edition (1859): Oh, come with old Khayyam, and leave the Wise / To talk; one thing is certain, that Life flies; / One thing is certain, and the Rest is Lies; / The Flower that once has blown for ever dies.
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13
And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky, / Whereunder crawling coop't we live and die, / Lift not thy hands to It for help — for It …
Quatrain LII of the first edition (1859): And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky, / Whereunder crawling coop't we live and die, / Lift not thy hands to It for help — for It / Rolls impotently on as Thou or I.
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14
There was a Door to which I found no Key: / There was a Veil past which I could not see: / Some little Talk awhile of Me and Thee …
Quatrain XXXII of the first edition (1859): There was a Door to which I found no Key: / There was a Veil past which I could not see: / Some little Talk awhile of Me and Thee / There seemed — and then no more of Thee and Me.
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15
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, …
Quatrain XXIII of the first edition (1859): 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!
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16
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, / Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit / Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, …
Quatrain LI of the first edition (1859): The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, / Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit / Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, / Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.
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17
And strange to tell, among that Earthen Lot / Some could articulate, while others not: / And suddenly one more impatient cried — …
Quatrain LX of the first edition (1859): And strange to tell, among that Earthen Lot / Some could articulate, while others not: / And suddenly one more impatient cried — / "Who is the Potter, pray, and who the Pot?"
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18
'Tis all a Chequer-board of Nights and Days / Where Destiny with Men for Pieces plays: / Hither and thither moves, and mates, and slays, …
Quatrain XLIX of the first edition (1859): '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.
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19
Ah, fill the Cup: — what boots it to repeat / How Time is slipping underneath our Feet: / Unborn To-morrow and dead Yesterday, …
Quatrain XXXVII of the first edition (1859): Ah, fill the Cup: — what boots it to repeat / How Time is slipping underneath our Feet: / Unborn To-morrow and dead Yesterday, / Why fret about them if To-day be sweet!
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20
Ah, Love! could thou and I with Fate conspire / To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire, / Would not we shatter it to bits — and then …
Quatrain LXXIII of the first edition (1859): Ah, Love! could thou and I with Fate conspire / To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire, / Would not we shatter it to bits — and then / Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!
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21
And much as Wine has play'd the Infidel, / And robb'd me of my Robe of Honour — well, / I often wonder what the Vintners buy …
Quatrain LXXI of the first edition (1859): And much as Wine has play'd the Infidel, / And robb'd me of my Robe of Honour — well, / I often wonder what the Vintners buy / One half so precious as the Goods they sell.
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Comments (2)
The Moving Finger quatrain is the one Agatha Christie took for the title of The Moving Finger. Still gives me chills.
FitzGerald's version is more FitzGerald than Khayyam, everyone knows that, but what a poem it is.