Ah, fill the cup:—what boots it to repeat
How Time is slipping underneath our feet:
Unborn To-morrow, and dead Yesterday,
Why fret about them if To-day be sweet.
Omar held to the earthly and the material. For him there was no spiritual world. Chance seemed to rule all the affairs of men. A pitiless destiny shaped out the course of each human being.
"'Tis all a chequer-board of nights and days
Where destiny with men for pieces plays:
Hither and thither moves, and mates, and slays,
And one by one back in the closet lays.