Page:Quatrains of Omar Khayyam (tr. Whinfield, 1883).djvu/162

106

These fools, by dint of ignorance most crass, Think they in wisdom all mankind surpass; And glibly do they damn as infidel, Whoever is not, like themselves, an ass.

Still be the wine-house thronged with its glad choir, And Pharisaic skirts burnt up with fire; Still be those tattered frocks, and azure robes Trod under feet of revellers in the mire.

Why toil ye to ensue illusions vain, And good or evil of the world attain? Ye rise like Zamzam, or the fount of life, And, like them, in earth's bosom sink again.