“The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.”
Presumptuous Maid! with looks intent
Again she stretch'd, again she bent,
Nor knew the gulph between;
(Malignant Fate sat by, and smil'd.)
The slippery verge her feet beguil'd;
She tumbled headlong in.
Omar Khayyam is wonderful. I have the first stanza of the Rubaiyat painted and framed in khatam style.
This quatrain makes me think Khayyam was a HN reader:
Myself when young did eagerly frequent
Doctor and Saint, and heard great argument
About it and about: but evermore
Came out by the same door where in I went.
--
Thomas Gray
http://www.potw.org/archive/potw90.html https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thomas_Gray