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. XXXVII. 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? In the first edition we find quatrain No. 33, which, like its distant cousin in the fourth edition (No. 34), appears to have no near parallel in the texts. No. 45 is a quatrain in a like predicament, and it may be for this reason that FitzGerald dropped it out of all subsequent editions. The only other quatrain peculiar to the first edition is No. 37. This would appear to have been inspired by ll. 3 and 4 of O. 20, quoted in the parallels to quatrain No. 57 and by O. 17, ll. 3 and 4. Nothing thou canst say of yesterday, that is past, is sweet; Be happy and do not speak of yesterday, for to-day is sweet. _Ref._: O. 17, C. 84, L. 193, B. 190, P. 126, B. ii. 59, T. 65 and 352, P. iv. 68, P. v. 62.--W 112, E.C. 6, V. 189. IN THE SECOND EDITION. The quatrains peculiar to the second edition are as follows: XIV. Were it not Folly, Spider-like to spin The Thread of present Life away to win-- What? for ourselves, who know not if we shall Breathe out the very Breath we now breathe in! This quatrain is inspired by O. 136. How long shall I grieve about what I have or have not, And whether I shall pass this life light-heartedly or not? Fill up the wine-cup, for I do not know That I shall breathe out the breath that I am drawing in. _Ref._: O. 136, C. 504 and 427, L. 740, B. 726, S.P. 362, P. 207, B. ii. 484, P. v. 64.--W. 411, N. 366, V. 730. XXVIII. This was replaced by No. 63 in the fourth and fifth editions, taken from the same original. XLIV. Do you, within your little hour of Grace, The waving Cypress in your Arms enlace, Before the Mother back into her arms Fold, and dissolve you in a last embrace. The sentiment of this quatrain is traceable in C. 189, ll. 1 and 2, and in C. 195. Be happy! for the time will come (When) all bodies will be hidden in the earth. _Ref._: C. 189, L. 393, B. 389, S.P. 160, B. ii. 203.--N. 160, V. 390. My whole mood is in sympathy with rosy cheeks, My hand is always grasping the wine cup; I exact from every part (of me) its allotted function, Ere that those parts (of me) be mingled with the all. _Ref._: C. 195, L. 349, B. 345, S.P. 163, P. 287, B. ii. 206, T. 122.--W. 181, N. 163, V. 349. LXV. If but the Vine and Love-abjuring Band Are in the Prophet's Paradise to stand, Alack, I doubt the Prophet's Paradise Were empty as the hollow of one's Hand. This quatrain is inspired by O. 127 and by C. 60.