Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám, the astronomer-poet of Persia; . LX The mighty Mahmud, Allah-breathing Lord,That all the misbelieving and black Horde Of Fears and Sorrows that infest the SoulScatters before him with his whirlwind Sword. LXI Why, be this Juice the growth of God, who dareBlaspheme the twisted tendril as a Snare ? A Blessing, we should use it, should we not?And if a Curse — why, then, Who set it there ? LXI I I must abjure the Balm of Life, I must,Scared by some After-reckoning taen on trust,Or lured with Hope of some Diviner Drink,To fill the Cup — when crumbled into Dust! .t~r^-mr~-f

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Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám, the astronomer-poet of Persia; . LX The mighty Mahmud, Allah-breathing Lord,That all the misbelieving and black Horde Of Fears and Sorrows that infest the SoulScatters before him with his whirlwind Sword. LXI Why, be this Juice the growth of God, who dareBlaspheme the twisted tendril as a Snare ? A Blessing, we should use it, should we not?And if a Curse — why, then, Who set it there ? LXI I I must abjure the Balm of Life, I must,Scared by some After-reckoning taen on trust,Or lured with Hope of some Diviner Drink,To fill the Cup — when crumbled into Dust! .t~r^-mr~-f^:i- •?..

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