Look up the Rubaiyat, and you will often find Edward FitzGerald (1809–1883) listed as the author. There’s some merit to the attribution. Although this is not an Ossian-level literary hoax—FitzGerald didn’t invent the Rubaiyat out of whole cloth, and Omar Khayyam was a real person—the translation was definitely a free one. You can even find parallel editions showing FitzGerald’s translation alongside other, more literal ones. For present purposes, we’ll compromise by calling it the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam and Edward FitzGerald. The introduction (below) to the facsimile edition gives a synopsis of the book’s history.
But never mind that. The 75 quatrains (rubaiyat, in Persian) became a framework on which publishers could hang a whole library of illustration, from watercolor paintings and line drawings to decorative borders, ornamental capitals and fancy lettering. The various illustrated editions—there are dozens—range from “kinda pretty” to over-the-top, drop-dead, unspeakably and inutterably gorgeous.
For this ebook, I’ve picked six of the more gorgeously illustrated editions. To keep things manageable, I used only the full-color (or at least greyscale) pictures. Many editions also had line drawing and a variety of decorations. It is no coincidence that two of the six came out in 1909; the year was both the centennial of FitzGerald’s birth and the fifty-year anniversary of the book’s original publication.
The smaller, uncaptioned pictures from Hodder and Stoughton were printed directly above the quatrains. The larger ones, with caption, were randomly distributed through the book; I’ve put them before the quatrains they “belong” to. All other illustrations have been distributed evenly through the book, generally keeping them in their original order.
The text of the 1899 Altemus edition is from FitzGerald’s 4th edition. The captions will therefore often read a little differently than the verses they belong to. The illustration after quatrain L (“Earth could not answer, nor the seas that mourn”, no. 33 in the 4th edition) doesn’t really correspond to anything in the first edition.
Altemus illustrations will be easy to recognize, as they are all greyscale plates. The artist is uncredited, and I couldn’t find a signature or monogram. Past experience suggests that it was a pirated text; no point in naming the artist if they’re not planning to pay him.
Hungarian-born Willy Pogány (1882–1955) must have liked the Rubaiyat—or must have liked Crowell’s pay scale. His name appears on two entirely different editions, not much more than ten years apart.
Crowell 1909: If you can find a copy for less than $1000 US, grab it. I’ve included it here because the pictures were too beautiful to omit, but be warned: the reproduction quality, or possibly the condition of the original book, is not what it might be.
Crowell 1920: Like the earlier version, this Crowell edition—probably from around 1920—is undated. They seem to have changed cover designs every other year; the printing I used may be as recent as 1934. This version is a twofer: the whole text of the first edition, followed by the whole text of the 4th. For this etext I’ve included only the full-page, full-color pictures; the title page (above) gives some idea what the rest of the book looks like.
Like Crowell, the Foulis company knew a money-maker when they saw one. Between 1904 and 1919, they put out no less than thirteen Rubaiyat editions, twelve of them using the FitzGerald translation.
Their centennial version has only four illustrations, counting the title page (shown at the top of this page)—but they’re undeniably pretty. They’re the work of Maurice Greiffenhagen (1862–1931).
A year later, in 1910, it was the turn of Frank Brangwyn (1867–1956). This edition remained in print for a while; the copy I used says 1911. (In fact there were two versions; lacking access to the physical copy, I don’t know which of the two gets the credit.) Typographic trivia: In the printed book, each illustration was captioned twice: once on a page by itself, and again below the picture. The captions printed below the pictures were italicized and used “double quotes”; the ones printed on a separate page used plain text and ‘single quotes’. Go figure.
In this 1913 edition every quatrain had its own illustration, whether a line drawing or full color. For the etext I’ve retained only the paintings. The smaller ones were printed at the head of the quatrain; the larger ones were full-page plates. All were the work of French-Irish René Bull (1872–1942)
The text is taken from the 1859 first edition—which is to say, a facsimile of the first edition. Already in 1918, bibliophile A. E. Newton could write that the original printing was “worth its weight in gold”. It may have been hyperbole when he said it; today it is the literal truth. A copy recently sold for $20,000, which should get you a pound or so of gold at current prices. Even a facsimile will run into three digits if you’re looking at one of the two published in 1909.
Apparent errors were corrected if and only if later editions—possibly including FitzGerald’s own second, third or fourth—had the expected form. Corrections are marked with mouse-hover popups and are listed again at the bottom of the page.
Hodder and Stoughton 1913
Hodder and Stoughton 1913
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.
Crowell 1920
Dreaming when Dawn’s Left Hand was in the Sky
I heard a Voice within the Tavern cry,
“Awake, my Little ones, and fill the Cup
“Before Life’s Liquor in its Cup be dry.”
Crowell 1909
And, as the Cock crew, those who stood before
The Tavern shouted—“Open then the door!
“You know how little while we have to stay,
“And, once departed, may return no more.”
Foulis 1909
Now the New Year reviving old Desires,
The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires,
Where the White Hand of Moses on the Bough
Puts out, and Jesus from the Ground suspires.
Hodder and Stoughton 1913
Irám indeed is gone with all its Rose,
And Jamshýd’s Sev’n-ring’d Cup where no one knows;
But still the Vine her ancient Ruby yields,
And still a Garden by the Water blows.
OPEN THEN THE DOOR
Altemus 1899
And Lo! the Hunter of the East has caught
The Sultán’s Turret in a Noose of Light.
Foulis 1911
And David’s Lips are lock’t; but in divine
High-piping Péhlevi, with “Wine! Wine! Wine!
“Red Wine!”—the Nightingale cries to the Rose
That yellow Cheek of her’s t’incarnadine.
Crowell 1920
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.
Crowell 1909
And look—a thousand Blossoms with the Day
Woke—and a thousand scatter’d into Clay:
And this first Summer Month that brings the Rose
Shall take Jamshýd and Kaikobád away.
Crowell 1909
But come with old Khayyám and leave the Lot
Of Kaikobád and Kaikhosrú forgot:
Let Rustum lay about him as he will,
Or Hátim Tai cry Supper—heed them not.
Hodder and Stoughton 1913
With me along some Strip of Herbage strown
That just divides the desert from the sown,
Where name of Slave and Sultán scarce is known,
And pity Sultán Máhmúd on his Throne.
A JUG OF WINE, A LOAF OF BREAD—AND THOU
Altemus 1899
“And Wilderness is Paradise enow.”
Hodder and Stoughton 1913
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.
Crowell 1920
“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!
Crowell 1909
Look to the Rose that blows about us—“Lo,
“Laughing,” she says, “into the World I blow:
“At once the silken Tassel of my Purse
“Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw.”
Hodder and Stoughton 1913
The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon
Turns Ashes—or it prospers; and anon,
Like Snow upon the Desert’s dusty Face
Lighting a little Hour or two—is gone.
Crowell 1920
And those who husbanded the Golden Grain,
And those who flung it to the Winds like Rain,
Alike to no such aureate Earth are turn’d
As, buried once, Men want dug up again.
AND MANY A GARDEN BY THE WATER BLOWS
Altemus 1899
“Abode his Hour or two, and went his way”
Hodder and Stoughton 1913
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.
Hodder and Stoughton 1913
They say the Lion and the Lizard keep
The Courts where Jamshýd gloried and drank deep;
And Bahrám, that great Hunter—the Wild Ass
Stamps o’er his Head, and he lies fast asleep.
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—
Foulis 1911
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.
Hodder and Stoughton 1913
And this delightful Herb whose tender Green
Fledges the River’s Lip on which we lean—
Ah, lean upon it lightly! for who knows
From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen!
Crowell 1909
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.
NOW HEED THE RUMBLE OF A DISTANT DRUM
Altemus 1899
Hodder and Stoughton 1913
Lo! some we loved, the loveliest and the best
That Time and Fate of all their Vintage prest,
Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before,
And one by one crept silently to Rest.
Crowell 1920
And we, that now make merry in the Room
They left, and Summer dresses in new Bloom,
Ourselves must we beneath the Couch of Earth
Descend, ourselves to make a Couch—for whom?
“Before we too into the Dust descend.”
Hodder and Stoughton 1913
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!
Hodder and Stoughton 1913
Alike for those who for To-day prepare,
And those that after a To-morrow stare,
A Muezzín from the Tower of Darkness cries
“Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There!”
Crowell 1920
Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss’d
Of the Two Worlds so learnedly, are thrust
Like foolish Prophets forth; their Words to Scorn
Are scatter’d, and their Mouths are stopt with Dust.
LOOK TO THE BLOWING ROSE ABOUT US
Altemus 1899
Hodder and Stoughton 1913
Oh, come with old Khayyám, 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.
Crowell 1909
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.
Foulis 1909
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.”
Crowell 1909
Into this Universe, and why not knowing,
Nor whence, like Water willy-nilly flowing:
And out of it, as Wind along the Waste,
I know not whither, willy-nilly blowing.
And this delightful Herb whose tender Green
Fledges the River’s Lip on which we lean—
Ah, lean upon it lightly! for who knows
From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen!
Foulis 1911
What, without asking, hither hurried whence?
And, without asking, whither hurried hence!
Another and another Cup to drown
The Memory of this Impertinence!
ABODE HIS DESTINED HOUR, AND WENT HIS WAY
Altemus 1899
Hodder and Stoughton 1913
Up from Earth’s Centre through the Seventh Gate
I rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate,
And many Knots unravel’d by the Road;
But not the Knot of Human Death and Fate.
Hodder and Stoughton 1913
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 seem’d—and then no more of Thee and Me.
Crowell 1909
Then to the rolling Heav’n itself I cried,
Asking, “What Lamp had Destiny to guide
Her little Children stumbling in the Dark?”
And—“A blind Understanding!” Heav’n replied.
Hodder and Stoughton 1913
Then to this earthen Bowl did I adjourn
My Lip the secret Well of Life to learn:
And Lip to Lip it murmur’d—“While you live
“Drink!—for once dead you never shall return.”
And we, that now make merry in the Room
They left, and Summer dresses in new Bloom,
Ourselves must we beneath the Couch of Earth
Descend, ourselves to make a Couch—for whom?
Foulis 1911
I think the Vessel, that with fugitive
Articulation answer’d, once did live,
And merry-make; and the cold Lip I kiss’d
How many Kisses might it take—and give!
AH, LEAN UPON IT LIGHTLY
Altemus 1899
Crowell 1909
For in the Market-place, one Dusk of Day,
I watch’d the Potter thumping his wet Clay:
And with its all obliterated Tongue
It murmur’d—“Gently, Brother, gently, pray!”
Myself when young did eagerly frequent
Doctor and Saint, and heard great Argument
About it and about
Foulis 1911
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!
Crowell 1920
One Moment in Annihilation’s Waste,
One Moment, of the Well of Life to taste—
The Stars are setting and the Caravan
Starts for the Dawn of Nothing—Oh, make haste!
Crowell 1909
How long, how long, in definite Pursuit
Of This and That endeavour and dispute?
Better be merry with the fruitful Grape
Than sadder after none, or bitter, Fruit.
Hodder and Stoughton 1913
You know, my Friends, how long since in my House
For a new Marriage I did make Carouse:
Divorced old barren Reason from my Bed,
And took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse.
AH, MY BELOVED, FILL THE CUP
Altemus 1899
Hodder and Stoughton 1913
For “Is” and “Is-not” though with Rule and Line,
And “Up-and-down” without, I could define,
I yet in all I only cared to know,
Was never deep in anything but—Wine.
“He bid me taste of it; and ’twas—the Grape!”
Hodder and Stoughton 1913
And lately, by the Tavern Door agape,
Came stealing through the Dusk an Angel Shape
Bearing a Vessel on his Shoulder; and
He bid me taste of it; and ’twas—the Grape!
Crowell 1909
The Grape that can with Logic absolute
The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects confute:
The subtle Alchemist that in a Trice
Life’s leaden Metal into Gold transmute.
Crowell 1909
The mighty Mahmúd, the victorious Lord,
That all the misbelieving and black Horde
Of Fears and Sorrows that infest the Soul
Scatters and slays with his enchanted Sword.
“But leave the Wise to wrangle”
Hodder and Stoughton 1913
But leave the Wise to wrangle, and with me
The Quarrel of the Universe let be:
And, in some corner of the Hubbub coucht,
Make Game of that which makes as much of Thee.
MYSELF WHEN YOUNG DID EAGERLY FREQUENT DOCTOR AND SAINT
Altemus 1899
Crowell 1909
For in and out, above, about, below,
’Tis nothing but a Magic Shadow-show,
Play’d in a Box whose Candle is the Sun,
Round which we Phantom Figures come and go.
“And if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press”
Hodder and Stoughton 1913
And if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press,
End in the Nothing all Things end in—Yes—
Then fancy while Thou art, Thou art but what
Thou shalt be—Nothing—Thou shalt not be less.
“Take that, and do not shrink”
Hodder and Stoughton 1913
While the Rose blows along the River Brink,
With old Khayyám the Ruby Vintage drink:
And when the Angel with his darker Draught
Draws up to Thee—take that, and do not shrink.
For in the Market-place, one Dusk of Day,
I watch’d the Potter thumping his wet Clay:
Foulis 1911
’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.
Crowell 1920
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!
EARTH COULD NOT ANSWER, NOR THE SEAS THAT MOURN
Altemus 1899
Hodder and Stoughton 1913
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.
“Lift not thy hands to It for help”
Hodder and Stoughton 1913
And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky,
Whereunder crawling coopt we live and die,
Lift not thy hands to It for help—for It
Rolls impotently on as Thou or I.
Hodder and Stoughton 1913
With Earth’s first Clay They did the last Man’s knead,
And then of the Last Harvest sow’d the Seed:
Yea, the first Morning of Creation wrote
What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.
Crowell 1909
I tell Thee this—When, starting from the Goal,
Over the shoulders of the flaming Foal
Of Heav’n Parwín and Mushtara they flung,
In my predestin’d Plot of Dust and Soul.
Crowell 1920
The Vine had struck a Fibre; which about
If clings my Being—let the Súfi flout;
Of my Base Metal may be filed a Key,
That shall unlock the Door he howls without.
AT LAST SHALL FIND YOU BY THE RIVER-BRINK
Altemus 1899
And lately, by the Tavern Door agape,
Came stealing through the Dusk an Angel Shape
Bearing a Vessel on his Shoulder
Foulis 1911
And this I know: whether the one True Light,
Kindle to Love, or Wrath consume me quite,
One glimpse of It within the Tavern caught
Better than in the Temple lost outright.
Crowell 1909
Oh Thou, who didst with Pitfall and with Gin
Beset the Road I was to wander in,
Thou wilt not with Predestination round
Enmesh me, and impute my Fall to Sin?
Hodder and Stoughton 1913
Oh, Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make,
And who with Eden didst devise the Snake;
For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man
Is blacken’d, Man’s Forgiveness give—and take!
But leave the Wise to wrangle, and with me
The Quarrel of the Universe let be:
And, in some corner of the Hubbub coucht,
Make Game of that which makes as much of Thee.
Foulis 1911
Listen again. One Evening at the Close
Of Ramazán, ere the better Moon arose,
In that old Potter’s Shop I stood alone
With the clay Population round in Rows.
Crowell 1920
And, strange to tell, among the Earthen Lot
Some could articulate, while others not:
And suddenly one more impatient cried—
“Who is the Potter, pray, and who the Pot?”
THE BALL NO QUESTION MAKES OF AYES AND NOES
Altemus 1899
Crowell 1909
Then said another—“Surely not in vain
“My substance from the common Earth was ta’en,
“That He who subtly wrought me into Shape
“Should stamp me back to common Earth again.”
Crowell 1909
Another said—“Why, ne’er a peevish Boy,
“Would break the Bowl from which he drank in Joy;
“Shall He that made the Vessel in pure Love
“And Fancy, in an after Rage destroy!”
Crowell 1909
None answer’d this; but after Silence spake
A Vessel of a more ungainly Make:
“They sneer at me for leaning all awry;
“What! did the Hand then of the Potter shake?”
Crowell 1909
Said one—“Folks of a surly Tapster tell,
“And daub his Visage with the Smoke of Hell;
“They talk of some strict Testing of us—Pish!
“He’s a Good Fellow, and ’twill all be well.”
Crowell 1909
Then said another with a long-drawn Sigh,
“My Clay with long oblivion is gone dry:
“But, fill me with the old familiar Juice,
“Methinks I might recover by-and-bye!”
I STOOD, SURROUNDED BY THE SHAPES OF CLAY
Altemus 1899
Hodder and Stoughton 1913
So while the Vessels one by one were speaking,
One spied the little Crescent all were seeking:
And then they jogg’d each other, “Brother, Brother!
“Hark to the Porter’s Shoulder-knot a-creaking!”
Foulis 1909
Ah, with the Grape my fading Life provide,
And wash my Body whence the Life has died,
And in a Windingsheet of Vine-leaf wrapt,
So bury me by some sweet Garden-side.
Crowell 1909
That ev’n my buried Ashes such a Snare
Of Perfume shall fling up into the Air,
As not a True Believer passing by
But shall be overtaken unaware.
Crowell 1920
Indeed the Idols I have loved so long
Have done my Credit in Men’s Eye much wrong:
Have drown’d my Honour in a shallow Cup,
And sold my Reputation for a Song.
Crowell 1909
Indeed, indeed, Repentance oft before
I swore—but was I sober when I swore?
And then and then came Spring, and Rose-in-hand
My thread-bare Penitence apieces tore.
AND IN YOUR JOYOUS ERRAND REACH THE SPOT
Altemus 1899
Crowell 1920
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.
Crowell 1909
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!
“Ah Love! could thou and I with Fate conspire”
Hodder and Stoughton 1913
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!
Hodder and Stoughton 1913
Ah, Moon of my Delight who know’st no wane,
The Moon of Heav’n is rising once again:
How oft hereafter rising shall she look
Through this same Garden after me—in vain!
Crowell 1909
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!
and Jesus from the Ground suspires
[In case anyone wondered, the name is spelled Isa in Persian.]
That yellow Cheek of her’s t’incarnadine
text has to’incarnadine
Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough
[In the second edition, the opening line changes to
Here with a little Bread beneath the Bough
In the third edition—in which this is no. XII—the quatrain becomes the now-familiar
A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,
A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread—and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness—
Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow! ]
Ah, take the Cash in hand and wave the Rest;
spelling unchanged; later editions have the expected waive
Kindle to Love, or Wrath consume me quite
text has Wrathconsume as one word
[Some later editions also interpolate a dash or hyphen. It is not easy to guess what the author intended—but it is fairly safe to say he did not consider “Wrathconsume” to be a single word.]
with Pitfall and with Gin
[And here I was, thinking gin was a 17th-century European invention. Seriously, though: Richard le Gallienne says—and the Oxford English Dictionary confirms—that a gin is a trap or snare.]
And in a Windingsheet of Vine-leaf wrapt
one word, as shown
[Later editions hyphenate the word; by the 4th edition the whole phrase is changed to “shrouded in the living Leaf”.]
The facsimile of the Rubaiyat first edition includes an introduction by the anonymous 1909 editor (A. E. Newton, according to the Internet Archive). It turns out the copy whose scans I used has the world’s most impeccable provenance. Item: The facsimile was made from a copy in the possession of Charles Dana Burrage. Item: According to the bookplate of the scanned copy, the book was a gift to the University of California from . . . Charles Dana Burrage. You can’t top that.
“Quaritch” is Bernard Quaritch, the publisher and bookseller. Edward Byles Cowell was Cambridge University’s first professor of Sanskrit.
One Spring day in 1856 Edward B. Cowell discovered in the Bodleian library at Oxford a manuscript containing 158 quatrains of Omar Khayyam which he transcribed and sent to his friend and pupil Edward FitzGerald. Later Cowell sent him from India a transcript of the so-called Calcutta manuscript. In 1857 FitzGerald completed his first draft of the poem and in January, 1858, sent it to Fraser’s Magazine. After many months, in January, 1859, FitzGerald recovered his neglected manuscript and made a re-draft of the poem, which he printed privately in an edition of 250 copies, most of which he gave to Quaritch, who had ill success in disposing of them, and the remainder were sold from a clearance box at a penny each.
Since the appearance of this modest book more than two million copies have been sold in over two hundred editions, and it has been translated into almost all the tongues of modern Europe, as well as into Greek and Latin.
A soiled and penciled copy of the rare original would readily bring $300, while an uncut copy is priceless.
This facsimile is made from the fine copy owned by Charles Dana Burrage, to whose interest and courtesy Omarians owe so much.
The original of this text is in the public domain—at least in the U.S.
My notes are copyright, as are all under-the-hood elements.
If in doubt, ask.