Then still while love and young desire And drink to beauty's health the bowl. L. T. ANACREONTIC SONG. COME, thou soul-reviving cup, The heaven that's in thy stream. In thy fount the Lyric Muse And Horace drain'd thy spring! Freshen there my languid brain,— When, bless'd cup, thy fires divine Hope still starts to Sorrow's eyes- VOL. III. PP Ne'er, sweet cup, was votary bless'd Pleased while Time runs through the glass Then, magic cup, again for me To-morrow may not bring! CAPTAIN MORRIS, SONG. FILL the goblet again! for I never before its core; [varied round Let us drink! who would not? since through life's In the goblet alone no deception is found. I have tried in its turn all that life can supply; That pleasure existed while passion was there? In the days of my youth, when the heart's in its spring, And dreams that affection can never take wing, avow That friends, rosy wine! are so faithful as thou? The breast of a mistress some boy may estrange, Friendship shifts with the sunbeam-thou never canst change; [what appears Thou grow'st old, who does not? but on earth Whose virtues, like thine, still increase with its years? Yet if bless'd to the utmost that love can bestow, For the more that enjoy thee, the more we enjoy. Then the season of youth and its vanities pass'd, For refuge we fly to the goblet at last; There we find, do we not? in the flow of the soul, That truth, as of yore, is confined to the bowl! When the box of Pandora was open'd on earth, And Misery's triumph commenced over Mirth; Hope was left, was she not? but the goblet we kiss, And care not for Hope, who are certain of bliss. Long life to the grape! for when summer is flown The age of our nectar shall gladden our own; We must die, who shall not? may our sins be forgiven, And Hebe shall never be idle in heaven. LORD BYRON, ANACREONTIC *. HEED no more the coming morrow, Laugh at future care, Snatch the present hour from sorrow, Revel light as air! Shed around a shower of roses, We, while Dulness safe reposes, Fly, ye moody sons of Sadness, Here each bosom swells with gladness, Life to us its sweets discloses, R. A. DAVENPORT. SONG, WRITTEN IN 1788. O'ER the vine-cover'd hills and fair valleys of See the daystar of Liberty rise, [France Through clouds of detraction unwearied advance, And hold its new course in the skies. An effulgence so mild, with a lustre so bright, And from deserts of darkness and dungeons of [night This song was written for a German Air, the words of which begin with Bin ein brauner Schweitzer Madchen,' &c. Let Burke, like a bat, from its splendour retire, When the welfare of millions is hung in the scale, Ah! who mid the darkness of night would abide That can taste the sweet breezes of morn? And who that has drunk of the crystalline tide To the feculent flood would return? When the bosom of beauty the throbbing heart Ah! who would the transport decline? [meets, And who that has tasted of Liberty's sweets The prize-but with life-would resign? To the hell she had form'd Superstition removes, His creation benign the Creator beholds, O, catch its high import, ye winds, as ye blow! From the nations that feel the sun's vertical glow Equal rights, equal laws to the nations around, ROSCOE. |