Part 3

Set by Henry Houseley (1852? - 1925), "Part 3", published 1917 [ soli, chorus, orchestra ], from cantata Omar Khayyám, no. 3, New York : H. W. Gray  [sung text checked 1 time]

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


They say the Lion and the Lizard keep
The Courts where Jamshýd gloried and drank deep,
And Bahrám, that great Hunter, -- the wild Ass
Stamps o'er his Head, [but cannot break his sleep]1.

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1 in the first edition alone: "and he lies fast asleep"

Researcher for this text: Barbara Miller


[And not]1 a drop that from our Cups we throw
For Earth to drink of, but may steal below
To quench the fire of Anguish in some Eye
There hidden -- far beneath, and long ago.

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1 Lehmann: "Ah, not"

Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]


I sometimes think that never blows so red
The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled,
That [every]1 Hyacinth the Garden wears
Dropt in [her]2 lap from some once lovely head.

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1 Lehmann: "ev'ry"
2 first edition, Murray (probably): "its"

Researcher for this text: Barbara Miller


And this [delightful]1 Herb, whose [tender]2 green,
Fledges the [River's Lip]3 on which we lean --
Ah, lean upon it lightly! for who knows
From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen.

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1 Houseley, Lehmann: "reviving"
2 Fitzgerald had "living" in the second edition.
3 Lehmann: "river-lip"

Research team for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator] , Johann Winkler


Ah, my Beloved, fill the Cup that clears
TO-DAY of past Regrets and future Fears:
To-morrow! Why, To-morrow I may be
Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n thousand Years.

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For some we loved, the loveliest and the best 
That from his Vintage rolling Time hath prest,
Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before, 
And one by one crept silently to rest.

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And we, that now make merry in the Room
They left, and Summer dresses in new Bloom,
Ourselves must we beneath the Couch of Earth
Descend, ourselves to make a Couch -- for whom?

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Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,
Before we too into the Dust descend;
Dust into Dust, and under Dust, to lie,
Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and -- sans End!

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Researcher for this text: Barbara Miller