Much discussion has arisen in regard to the meaning of Omar's poetry. Some writers have insisted on a mystical interpretation and M. Nicholas goes so far as to state his opinion that Omar devoted himself "avec passion à l'étude de la philosphie des Soufis." On the other hand Von Hammer, the author of a _History of the Assassins_, refers to Omar as a Freethinker and a great opponent of Sufism. Probably, in the absence of agreement amongst authorities, the soundest view is that expressed by FitzGerald's editor,[C] that the real Omar Khayyám was a Philosopher, of scientific insight and ability far beyond that of the Age and Country he lived in; of such moderate and worldly Ambition as becomes a Philosopher, and such moderate wants as rarely satisfy a Debauchee; that while the Wine Omar celebrates is simply the Juice of the Grape, he bragged more than he drank of it, in very defiance perhaps of that Spiritual Wine which left its Votaries sunk in Hypocrisy or Disgust. FOOTNOTES: [Footnote A: Quoted in the _Calcutta Review_, No. LIX.] [Footnote B: "Philosophe Musulman qui a vécu en Odeur de Sainteté, dans la religion vers la Fin du premier et la Commencement du second Siècle," no part of which, except the "Philosophe," can apply to _our_ Khayyám, who, however, may claim the Story as _his_, on the Score of Rubáiyát, 77 and 78 of the present Version. The Rashness of the Words, according to D'Herbelot, consisted in being so opposed to those in the Koran: "No Man knows where he shall die."] [Footnote C: Mr. W. Aldis Wright, M.A.] RUBÁIYÁT OF OMAR KHAYYÁM. I. 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. II. 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." III. 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." IV. 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. V. 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. VI. And David's Lips are lockt; but in divine High-piping Péhlevi, with "Wine! Wine! Wine! _Red_ Wine!"—the Nightingale cries to the Rose That yellow Cheek of hers to incarnadine. VII. 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.