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Part 4

Set by Henry Houseley (1852? - 1925), "Part 4", published 1917 [ soli, chorus, orchestra ], from cantata Omar Khayyám, no. 4, New York : H. W. Gray [Sung Text]

Note: this setting is made up of several separate texts.


Alike for those who for TO-DAY prepare,
And those that after some TO-MORROW stare,
A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries
"Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There!"

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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]


Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd
Of the two Worlds so wisely — they are thrust
Like foolish Prophets forth; their Words to Scorn
Are scatter'd, and their Mouths are stopt with Dust.

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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.

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With them the Seed of Wisdom did I sow,
And with my own Hand wrought to make it grow,
And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd --
"I came like Water, and like Wind I go."

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Researcher for this page: Barbara Miller 


Into this Universe, and why not knowing,
Nor whence, like Water willy-nilly flowing:
And out of it, as Wind along the Waste,
I know not whither, willy-nilly blowing.

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What, without asking, hither hurried Whence? 
And, without asking, Whither hurried hence!
Oh, many a Cup of this forbidden Wine 
Must drown the memory of that insolence!

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Up from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gate
I rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate,
And many a Knot unravel’d by the Road;
But not the Master-knot of Human Fate.

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There was the Door to which I found no Key;
There was the Veil through which I might not see;
Some little talk awhile of ME and THEE
There was — and then no more of THEE and ME.

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Earth could not answer; nor the Seas that mourn
In flowing Purple, of their Lord forlorn:
Nor rolling Heaven, with all his Signs reveal’d
And hidden by the sleeve of Night and Morn.

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Then of the THEE IN ME who works behind
The Veil, I lifted up my hands to find
A Lamp amid the Darkness; and I heard,
As from Without -- "THE ME WITHIN THEE BLIND!"

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Then to the Lip of this poor earthen Urn
I lean’d, the Secret of my Life to learn;
And Lip to Lip it murmur’d — "While you live, 
Drink! — for, once dead, you never shall return."

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Author(s): Edward Fitzgerald (1809 - 1883)