Omar Khayaam

Rubā‘ī C 134 from the Calcutta MS

[Image source: from Edward Heron-Allen (2), link below.]

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 Sultán's Turret in a Noose of Light.

(Edward Fitzgerald, Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám, 1st edition, 1859)

WAKE! For the Sun who scatter'd into flight

The Stars before him from the Field of Night,

   Drives Night along with them from Heav'n,                                                                    and strikes

The Sultan's Turret with a Shaft of Light.

(Edward Fitzgerald, Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám, 4th edition, 1879. Unchanged in the posthumous 5th edition.)

The Sun casts the noose of morning upon the roofs,

Kai Khosrū of the day, he throws a stone into the bowl:

Drink wine! for the Herald of the Day, rising up,

Hurls into the days the cry of "Drink ye!"

(Edward Heron-Allen's literal translation of Rubā‘ī C 134, 1899)

While Dawn, Day's herald straddling the whole sky,

Offers the drowsy world a toast 'To Wine',

The Sun spills early gold on city roofs –

Day's regal Host, replenishing his jug.

(Robert Graves and Omar Ali-Shah, The Rubaiyyat of Omar Khayaam, 1967)

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Kai Khosrū or Kay Khosrow, a legendary king of Iran whose story is told in the Shahnahmeh. He was brought up in exile in the desert. He avenged the murder of his father Siavash, ruled for sixty years, and finally disappeared mysteriously into the mountains. 

Throwing a stone in the bowl. According to Heron-Allen it was a Bedouin signal to strike camp. No more drinking, so to speak? But the Calcutta MS is anomalous: most other texts of this Rubā‘ī throw "wine" rather than a "stone" into the bowl, which better fits with what follows. (Though personally I think the stone is more exciting.) Anyway, maybe that's why Fitzgerald rejigged his opening stanza (while making it even less of a translation). 

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Omar Khayyam (or "Khayaam", in Graves and Shah), 1048 - 1131, philosopher, mathematician, astronomer, from Nishapur (NE Iran, not far from the borders with Turkmenistan and Afghanistan). 

In his 1174 anthology of Arabic poetry Kharidat al-qasr (Pearl Pendant of the Palace), Imad al-Din al-Isfahani describes Omar as a poet and quotes four short Arabic poems. 

But the poems with which Omar is associated all over the world are quatrains in Persian (Rubā‘iyāt). These Rubā‘iyāt were independent, pithy, memorable poems that were at first orally shared. It was a popular form, I suppose, somewhat comparable to haiku in Japan or bayati in Azerbaijan. Over time a good many Rubā‘iyāt were attributed to Omar. Perhaps they were the ones especially characterized by a sceptical flavour, appropriate to a renowned philosopher in the Greek tradition. The upshot is an "Omarian" literature, around 1200 quatrains in all. The main manuscripts are diwans, implying the collected work of a single author (what's more, one who constantly refers to himself by name), but their contents vary enormously. It's possible that the historical mathematician Omar didn't write a single one of these poems. But supposing he did, was it half a dozen, thirty-five, a hundred, 250? Readers and scholars have had many different impressions of a more authentic or central core.

What many have sought, Omar Ali-Shah claimed to possess. A twelfth-century manuscript of "uncontradictable authority" containing 111 Rubā‘iyāt. Reading his words (p. 32), you have the feeling that Ali-Shah hardly expected anyone to believe this, noting that at any rate the chosen 111 quatrains were all in one or more of the older manuscripts in  libraries (manuscripts, in other words, that actually exist). Whether his co-translator Robert Graves fully grasped the rules of the game is rather an open question.  But both translators wanted to fashion Omar anew, that is, to reclaim the poetry from what they saw as Edward Fitzgerald's imposition of 19th-century scepticism and hedonism. The idea that Fitzgerald had misrepresented Omar had been around a long time. Fitzgerald himself remarked (preface to Third Edition): 

While the second Edition of this version of Omar was preparing, Monsieur Nicolas, French Consul at Resht, published a very careful and very good Edition of the Text, from a lithograph copy at Teheran, comprising 464 Rubaiyat, with translation and notes of his own.

Mons. Nicolas, whose Edition has reminded me of several things, and instructed me in others, does not consider Omar to be the material Epicurean that I have literally taken him for, but a Mystic, shadowing the Deity under the figure of Wine, Wine-bearer, &c., as Hafiz is supposed to do; in short, a Sufi Poet like Hafiz and the rest.

I cannot see reason to alter my opinion. . .

(Jean-Baptiste Nicolas, Les Quatrains de Khèyam (1867), link below.)

A great deal depends on whether the Omarian poems came from a wine-drinking culture or a teetotal one. A simple question, not so easy to answer conclusively. If nobody drank wine but everyone wrote about it, then yes, it probably signified something else.  

It's a kind of debate that I recognize from my student days, when I was navigating the literature of medieval Christendom. Our favourite poets (Chaucer, Gottfried, Chrétien, Marie de France, Guillaume de Lorris) so often seemed daring, heterodox, rebellious... We were thrilled and taken aback by their seeming failure to comply with the orthodoxy of a very authoritarian age. But were we hopelessly deluded, selectively picking out what spoke to our own Age of Faithlessness, grossly ignorant of the tremendous sophistication of a very different culture, profoundly addicted to literalism and averse to allegory, the most fundamental tool of the imaginative artist in that era of the Ovide Moralisé? Those were the questions raised by D.W. Robertson, Jr and his colleagues. Whether their own interpretations were any better than ours was a moot point, but the methodological issue couldn't be dodged. Since it was medieval poetry we were reading, what did that mean for how we go about reading it? We lived in a time when intuitive common sense was constantly being proved wrong: in psychology, biology, economics, to name but three glaring examples. So why would we continue to trust our common-sense intuitions when reading the poetry of a very different culture? 

Graves and Ali-Shah were offering a counter-Fitzgerald, but their poem owes a lot to his. Most real Persian manuscripts present their quatrains in Diwan order (that is, alphabetical order of the final letter of the end-rhyme of lines 1, 2 and 4). It was Fitzgerald himself who chose to begin with a quatrain about the dawn that he picked out of the Calcutta manuscript (C 134 in Heron-Allen's numbering). Fitzgerald was constructing an elegy that would begin in the hopeful dawn, wander through a garden, and reserve its most searching and desolate summations for dusk. But Ali-Shah's purported 800-year-old manuscript turned out to be in more or less the same sequence as the one Fitzgerald himself had constructed; dawn at the beginning, the garden, the musings of the pots, the fall of night... 

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Except it doesn't end with the starkness of Khayyam's empty glass, but in a more pious state of fragile hope. 

LXXV

And when Thyself with shining Foot shall pass
Among the Guests Star-scatter'd on The Grass,
   And in Thy joyous Errand reach the Spot
Where I made one—turn down an empty Glass!

TAMÁM SHUD.

(Final stanza of Edward Fitzgerald, Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám, 1st edition, 1859.)

CI.

 And when like her, oh Saki, you shall pass
 Among the Guests Star-scatter'd on the Grass,
   And in your joyous errand reach the spot
 Where I made One--turn down an empty Glass!

TAMAM.

(Final stanza of Edward Fitzgerald, Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám, 4th edition, 1879. Unchanged in the posthumous 5th edition.)

107

Sweet friends, in joy assembled here together,

Never forget us, once your sweetest friends.

Before you greet the jug, Khayaam adjures you:

When his turn comes, turn down his empty bowl.

108

Khayaam, who stitched the hides for Wisdom's tent

Has tumbled in Grief's clutches. He lies burning;

The shears of Death have closed upon his guys

And Hope the Broker sells him for a song.

109

Fools, with damnation as your destiny,

Sentenced to fuel the eternal fires of Hell, 

How long will you still plead for Omar's pardon,

Nudging his mercy from the Merciful?

110

Though pearls in praise of God I never strung,

Though dust of sin lies clotted on my brow,

Yet will I not despair of mercy. When

Did Omar argue that the One was Two?

111

The palace with huge walls soaring to Heaven,

Where prostrate Kings did reverence at the gate –

A ring-dove perches on its battlements;

'Where, where?' it coos, 'where, where?'

(Final five stanzas of Robert Graves and Omar Ali-Shah, The Rubaiyyat of Omar Khayaam, 1967.)

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The five editions of Edward Fitzgerald's poem, on Wikisource.

https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Rubaiyat_of_Omar_Khayyam_(tr._Fitzgerald)

The first and fifth editions, on Project Gutenberg.

https://www.gutenberg.org/files/246/246-h/246-h.htm

Jean-Baptiste Nicolas, Les Quatrains de Khèyam, 1867. His 464 quatrains don't include a parallel to C 134, as far as I can see. 

https://fr.wikisource.org/wiki/Les_Quatrains_de_Kh%C3%A8yam

Edward Heron-Allen (1), The Ruba'iyat of Omar Khayyām: Being A Facsimile of the Manuscript in the Bodleian Library at Oxford, with a Transcript into Modern Persian Characters; Translated, with an Introduction and Notes, and Some Sidelights upon Edward Fitzgerald's Poem, by Edward Heron-Allen (2nd Edition, 1898).

https://books.google.co.uk/books?id=pqNfHgsRvHEC&pg=PR22&dq=edward+heron-allen+ouseley&hl=en&newbks=1&newbks_redir=0&source=gb_mobile_search&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjcitG_z7GWAxUsR0EAHdubLLIQuwV6BAgLEAg#v=onepage&q=edward%20heron-allen%20ouseley&f=false

Edward Heron-Allen (2), Edward Fitzgerald's Rubâ‘iyât of Omar Khayyâm, With their Original Persian Sources Collated from his Own MSS., and Literally Translated (1899).

https://books.google.co.uk/books?id=Ahe95OSJZ1MC&printsec=frontcover&dq=edward+heron-allen+rubaiyat&hl=en&newbks=1&newbks_redir=0&source=gb_mobile_search&sa=X&redir_esc=y#v=onepage&q&f=false

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On the Rubā‘ī form in Persian literature:

https://kamaustine.com/2025/08/19/what-are-persian-quatrains-rubaiyat/

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Medieval European literature: exegetical methodologies, contrasted with new critical methodology.

I found a lively outline of this debate in Paul A. Olson's 2017 Foreword to D.W Robertson Jr's Uncollected Essays.  

https://digitalcommons.unl.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1188&context=englishfacpubs