For I remember stopping by the way To watch a Potter thumping his wet Clay; And with its all-obliterated Tongue It murmur'd--«Gently, Brother, gently, pray!» The original of this quatrain is O. 89. I saw a potter in the bazaar yesterday, He was violently pounding some fresh clay, And that clay said to him in mystic language, «I was once like thee--so treat me well.» _Ref._: O. 89, C. 261, L. 411, B. 407, S.P. 210, P. 100, B. ii. 274, P. iv. 71, P. v. 198.--W. 252, N. 211, V. 434. XXXVIII.* And has not such a Story from of Old Down Man's successive generations roll'd Of such a clod of saturated Earth Cast by the maker into Human mould? This quatrain, which is in the nature of a reflection upon the three preceding ones, conveys an idea which is constantly recurrent in the ruba'iyat. Edward FitzGerald himself records, in a note, that, in composing this quatrain, he had in mind a very beautiful story in the Mantik ut-tair of the water of a certain well which, ordinarily sweet, became bitter when drawn in a vessel made from clay which once had been a man. For its inclusion in this poem FitzGerald had the support of two (among many) quatrains from C. 475 and 488. I pondered over the workshop of a potter; In the shadow of the wheel I saw that the master, with his feet, Made handles and covers for goblets and jars, Out of the skulls of kings and the feet of beggars. _Ref._: C. 475, L. 698, B. 689, S.P. 426, P. 103, B. ii. 576.--W. 466, N. 431, V. 750. I made my way into the (abode of the) potters of the age, Every moment shewed some new skill with clay; I saw, though men devoid of vision saw it not, My ancestors' dust on the hands of every potter. _Ref._: C. 488, L. 721, B. 710, P. 101, B. ii. 543.--W 493, V. 773. XXXIX.* And not a drop that from our Cups we throw For Earth to Drink of, but may steal below To quench the fire of Anguish in some Eye There hidden--far beneath and long ago. This quatrain is taken from ll. 1 and 2 of O. 81 Every draught that the Cup-bearer scatters upon the earth Quenches the fire of anguish in some burning eye. _Ref._: O. 81, C. 180, L. 367, B. 363, S.P. 188, P. 231, B. ii. 241, P. v. 187.--W. 203, N. 188, V. 366. XL.* As then the Tulip for her morning sup Of Heav'nly Vintage from the soil looks up, Do you devoutly do the like, till Heav'n To Earth invert you--like an empty Cup. The original of this quatrain is C. 37. Like a tulip in the spring uplift your cup; If you get a (happy) opportunity with a moon-faced one, Drink wine with cheerfulness, for this worn-out sky Will suddenly invert you to the level of the earth. _Ref._: C. 37, L. 136, B. 133, S.P. 39, B. ii. 84, T. 40 and 311.--W 44, N. 40, V. 135. XLI.*