The times., 1898-02-27
LIE Gallicnne.

lie Gallicnne.
Mr. Richard lie Gallienne in publishing
a new version of THE Rubaiyat of Omar
khayyam," has done thing which only
by the barest shade escapes impertinence
The translation of Fitzgerald has for Sc
long remained the pearl of translations
in the lines of Eastern thought its
! measure is so dignifed. its language sc
accurate and beautiful, and the spirit
of its philosophy so eclectic and at the
| same time so in accord with the spirit of
the original Persian, that possibly Mr..
lie Gallienne is the only man on earth
with the audacity to suppose he could
enter that field Add to this the fact
that this curled and jeweled minstrel of
modern England doesn't even know Per-
| sian. and the undertaking assumes pro-
| portions of simply colossal daring. What
, the author of this new version has really
done is to rewrite the Fitzgerald poem
as he thinks il ought 10 be done, thus
| virtually assuming that he can translate
| Mr.. Fitzgerald's favorite poet bet
| ter from Mr.. Fitzgeralds trans
| lation than that gentleman could
| himself do it from the orig
inal. The attitude of mind here indi-
il he knew of it. lie Gallienne himself
seems to have faint notion of its humor
and to recognize il, and that is where
the audacity comes in. If he did not
frankly confess that he has used the
other mans version, and that he has
adopted the other mans meter but
thinks he can possibly improve on the
other mans way of expressing himself.
his performance would be that of a more
or less blank idiot; as it is, he gives one
the impression that whatever foolery he
has committed he has done ii a-pur-
pose" and is thel efore possessed of the
brains of deliberate jester.
The translation Itself is rather interest
ing. IL is not Omar; il is LIE Gallienne.
The Toluptuous imagery, the languid and
ethereal cadences, the familiarity with
the Lord Almighty, and the general lat
ter-day Romanism of the thing are lie
Gallienne and nobody else. The Omar of
Fitzgerald is out under a date palm. or
in a simple Oriental inn, looking up at
the stars and philosophizing in a way
which is but half Ineligible to his semi
barbaric listeners. lie Gallienne's Omar
is a lazy Eastern gentleman, indulging
in the richest and oldest of wines, con-
noisseur of beauty and jewelry. and. very
possibly, a devotee of cigarettes. Here
and there is exquisite imagery, as in this,
which is one OF the characteristic stan
zas:
Yeai sometimes on the instant all seems plain,
The simple sun could tell US. the rain;
The world caught dreaming with look Of
heaven.
Seems on a sudden tiptoe to explain.
But contrast this with the noble music
of Fitzgerald's version:
Why. if the Soul may cast the dust aside
And naked the air 10 Heaven ride,
Were t not shame were t not shame for
him
In this dull carcass crippled to abide?
The soul in Mr.. LIE Gallienne's poem is
in no hurry 10 quit this dun carcass; ii is !
quite content; wonders a little sometime
as to the causes of things; is seized with
the dreary world-sadness that comes of
satiated longings for pleasure; but that |
is all Mr. lie Gallienne's muse is not a |
brave muse. despite all its gossiping of |
Allah and mixed drinks, after this man |
ner:
Did Cod set grapes a-growing. do you think,
And al the same time make it sin TO drink?
Give thanks 10 Him who foreordained it thus
Surely lie loves to hear the glasses clink!
Fitzgerald discourses of life in this
measure:
Tis but tent. where takes his one days guest,
Sultan TO the realm of Death addressed,
The Sultan rises. and the dark Ferrasht
strikes, and prepares 1t for another guest.
And this is Air. lie Galliennes notion:
Zen talk OF neaven-there is no Heaven but
here;
fen talk of hell-there is no hell but here;
Men of hereafters talk. and future lives
} love. there is no other liie-but here.
There is just the difference between
Fitzgerald and lie Gallienne in this thing
hat there is between n tent, open to
he wind of the desert, and the meat and
rink and love and life of the desert phil
,sopher and a closely curtained harem
furnished with all the richness of hun
lred kings and all the conveniences of
modern science. In the former case the
tote rings true; In the latter II is broken
" a thousand little tinkling cadences. |
'retty enough in themselves. but without
my business in a song of life and death,
ate and the gods. Comparisons may be
dous, but when a man invites compari-
on as longingly as this apology for a
oct. with his popinjay metaphors and
ybaritic ideas. neddling with a great
ersion of a great poem, the comparison
hould be made, and should be allowed
o flatten him completely. (New York:
ohm Lane Washington: All booksellers.
2l