As with stanza 1:8, the next quatrain in Edward FitzGerald’s 1859 translation of the Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám concerns the fleeting character of political glory, and of life in general. It continues to introduce English-speaking audiences to Iranian kings and heroes, the Persian equivalents of Agamemnon and Achilles:
IX.
But come with old Khayyam, 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.
Discussion:
I spoke about the mythical first Iranian king, Kay Kobad here.
Arberry notes that Kaykhosrow is referred to in 139 of the Bodleian manuscript. He is Khosrow II (d. 628), the Sasanian Iranian monarch who ruled much of the known world and took the Middle East away from the Eastern Roman Empire.
Hatim Tayy was held to be among the three most generous men of pre-Islamic Arabia in the 500s AD, a chieftain and poet. Many stories are told about his amazing generosity, even to enemies. But the quatrains attributed to Khayyam warn that you should never let yourself become obligated to anyone, even such a generous person as Hatim. You should retain your individuality and freedom of action, rejecting the constraints of society.
Rustam is Iran’s national hero, the great mythical warrior of ancient times, akin to Hercules for Romans and Greeks or Conan for the Irish. One of the great tragedies of his life is that he sired a son, Sohrab, but left his mother, and the boy grew up to face him on the battlefield. Rustam, without knowing he was fighting his own son, kills Sohrab.
This story was told by the Victorian poet Matthew Arnold just a few years before FitzGerald translated the Rubáiyát and may have been on FitzGerald’s mind for that reason, apart from the Rustam stories he found in the Persian poetry he studied with Hockley and Cowell.
Arnold has Rustam’s army fear Sohrab and say,
- “O Rustum, like thy might is this young man’s!
He has the wild stag’s foot, the lion’s heart;
And he is young, and Iran’s chiefs are old,
Or else too weak; and all eyes turn to thee.
Come down and help us, Rustum, or we lose!”
FitzGerald’s generation of English-speakers were discovering the beauties of Persian poetry and the attractions of myth and legends of Iran. A lot of the impetus for this interest in Persian came from the British Empire in India, which supplanted the Mughals and other powers in the subcontinent.
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Many Indian polities were ruled by Muslims at that time, even though they were only 10 percent of the population. Central Asian Muslims had heavy horse cavalry and they were early adopters of canon and muskets, and so could conquer Indian villagers. Muslim states in India used Persian as their chancery language, for government and administration, as well as diplomacy. So Indians, including many Hindus, cultivated Persian, sort of the way a lot of Europeans cultivated French in the 18th and 19th centuries. Persian was the language of the Iranian plateau, but it was also the language of educated people throughout what we would call the Middle East and Central and South Asia, and its medieval poetry was widely studied.
As the British East India Company gradually subdued India from 1757 forward, it trained some of its personnel in Persian. Some of them became interested in literature, publishing on it back in Britain, or translating books of poetry or history. It was part of the process whereby Britain learned about India so as to rule it. FitzGerald knew retired East India Company officials such as Major Hockley, who lived nearby in Ipswich, and with whom he studied Persian. FitzGerald, from a wealthy Anglo-Irish family, disapproved of the British Empire and was largely uninterested in politics, but he caught the Persian bug from other fans, especially his young friend Edward Cowell. They thought at least some of the poetry lovely, using phrases like “fine and just.”
The poetry they began to adore was not for the most part produced in India, though the latter had great Persian poets. They learned from Indian scholars to value classical Persian literature, that of Saadi, Hafez, Rumi, Attar, Ferdowsi and Jami. Some of that poetry was about ancient kings and heroes, or used their stories to make a point.
Detail, “The Combat of Rustam and Ashkabus”, Folio 268v from the Shahnama (Book of Kings) of Safavid monarch Shah Tahmasp (r. 1524 to 1576). By the author Abu’l Qasim Firdausi. Iranian Painting attributed to Mirza Muhammad Qabahat; Workshop director ‘Abd al-‘Aziz. ca. 1525–30, Tabriz. Metropolitan Museum of Art.
A. J. Arberry held that the first two lines of stanza 9 derived from no. 60 in the Calcutta manuscript of the Rubáiyát, which is also here. I translate it this way:
One gulp of wine outshines the kingdom of Ka’us–
it’s better than Qobad’s throne or the realm of Tus.
A tipsy rascal’s every groan as night abates
is better than obeying two-faced celibates.
یک جرعهٔ می ز ملک کاووس به است
از تخت قباد و ملکت طوس به است
هر ناله که رندی به سحرگاه زند
از طاعت زاهدان سالوس به است
FitzGerald may have seen a resemblance between this quatrain and some passage in a poem by Hafez of Shiraz (1325–1390), since he wrote “Hafez” next to Calcutta 60 on the manuscript.
The second two lines were inspired by the last half of Calcutta no. 519. That poem is also here . Here is my fairly literal translation:
As long as you have bones, blood, and sinews,
do not set foot outside the house of fate.
And bend your neck to none, even Rustam;
Take on no burdens, even Hatim Tayy.
تا در تن تست استخوان و رگ و پی،
از خانهٔ تقدیر منه بیرون پی
گردن منه؛ ار خصم بود رستم زال
منت مکش؛ ار دوست بود حاتم طی.
In this series:
FitzGerald’s Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám 1:1
“Awake my little ones and fill the Cup!” FitzGerald’s Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám 1:2
“Those who Stood before the Tavern” – FitzGerald’s Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám 1:3
Now the New Year is Reviving old Desires: FitzGerald’s Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám 1:4
“But still the Vine her ancient Ruby Yields:” Fitzgerald’s Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám 1:5
“Red Wine!” – the Nightingale cries to the Rose: FitzGerald’s Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám 1:6
“The Bird is on the Wing”: FitzGerald’s Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám 1:7.
“A thousand Blossoms with the Day Woke:” FitzGerald’s Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám 1:8
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