New Oil for an Old Lamo

Competitors were asked to imagine that Omar Khayyam were alive in present-day Persia, and, for the usual prize, to furnish not more than three quatrains from his pen.

A COMPETITOR, writing from a school ad- dress, added a note, 'I hope I am right to submit translations by a modern Fitzgerald, rather than originals.' He was; and to Rtiglish readers Omar must always be Fitz- gerald, and Fitzgerald Omar. For all that, one 'original' was sent in—a stanza in, pre- sulnablY Arabic characters, followed by the same in Western script, and lastly a translation. As, however, the translation was in prose, it was hardly possible to compare it with the Fitzgerald stanzas Which everyone else sent in. , Surely the well-known quatrain is one of the most enchanting forms of verse, with e free sweep of the unrhymed line coming 1,0 rest in the last one. The prizewinners and the runners-up achieved this sweep. Of the others, some seemed unfamiliar with the rhyme - scheme. Moreover, Alexandrines and short lines were strangely abundant. 1 was strongly tempted to reject all which ,t?iltained some hackneyed quotation from 'llzgerald like 'But come with old Khay- Y3eril.' They were so obvious. Most of the best entries, at least, contained no close Earody. It was inevitable, of course, 'the pig') contrast between oil (sometimes 'the ,.,143e) and the wine-bowl should appear in varied all entries. The treatment of it 'aried very much in point of wit and delicacy, , The following lines or stanzas exhibit the Doter kind of wit: Bewildered I bethought me of the key, And at the Tavern, 'Wine,' I cried, but he To whom 1 spoke no longer served the And Poured 'Id Poured instead a cupful of weak tea.

(LESLIE JOHNSON)

Ah Love, could thou and I with fate combine To tamper with the pipe's far-wandering line, Would we not empty it of oil, and then Refill it to the heart's desire with wine?

(R. KENNARD DAVIS) Then fill the cup: What need for us to spoil Our sunlit dalliance with unpleasing toil? Perfidious Albion and grim Muscovite —Why fret about them if we have the oil?

(IRVINE GRAY)

The pseudonym 'John Wynn' concealed the identity of a veteran writer, who, how- ever, missed the mark by including one line which is short by two syllables. I quote eight lines of his entry after mending that line : Old Fitz translated me superbly well, But soon, despised, into neglect I fell; Then, one great day, a poet saw my worth; The world then followed; I began to sell.

They dined and lectured on me, bought and bought, But still they missed me in my deeper thought Charmed with the newly added, bolder views That I, the real Omar, never taught.

The first prizewinner is Alberick, whose stanzas have the most attractive swing; he wins £3. The other £2 go to W. E. Holly- man (I only wish that his quite lovely script could be reproduced). Honourably mentioned are Allan M. Laing, D. J. Skip- with, F. R. Lane, G. B. Swaine, A. M. Sayers, Jolyon Lea and Brigadier A. Prain.

PRIZES (ALBERICK) Let Western Democrat with Muscovite Hold bitter Argument of Wrong and Right, The Grape will ripen and the Rose will bloom

When They and We are Phantoms of the Night.

Myself did fly to Moscow, London, Rome And Washington, whence, like storm-driven Foam,

Words, Words, more Words, bespattered so mine Ears That deaf and unenlightened came I home.

Sultan and Shah may rise and fall, but I Will take mine Ease beneath a Summer Sky, And, well content with Thee to live and love, Drink deep and oft, nor seek to reason why.

(W. E. HOLLYMAN)

You know, my Friends, how lately I did toil To reap new Harvests from my native Soil : An alien Plant I plucked with Fingers green And sought its Nectar with my dry Lips—Oil.

But come with old Khayyam and leave Iran To some Consortium's International Plan. How many gushers would it take to quench The Thirst an old Man's salty Tears began?

And if Thyself with shining Car shouldst come To rest rapacious for Petroletim,

Then in Thy anxious Quest recall to Mind How I made One—turn down an empty Drum!