One bumper at parting!--tho' many Have circled the board since we met, The fullest, the saddest of any Remains to be crowned by us yet. The sweetness that pleasure hath in it, Is always so slow to come forth, That seldom, alas, till the minute It dies, do we know half its worth. But come,--may our life's happy measure Be all of such moments made up; They're born on the bosom of Pleasure, They die midst the tears of the cup.
'Tis onward we journey, how pleasant To pause and inhabit awhile Those few sunny spots, like the present, That mid the dull wilderness smile! But Time, like a pitiless master, Cries "Onward!" and spurs the gay hours-- Ah, never doth Time travel faster, Than when his way lies among flowers. But come--may our life's happy measure Be all of such moments made up; They're born on the bosom of Pleasure, They die midst the tears of the cup.
We saw how the sun looked in sinking, The waters beneath him how bright; And now, let our farewell of drinking Resemble that farewell of light. You saw how he finished, by darting His beam o'er a deep billow's brim-- So, fill up, let's shine at our parting, In full liquid glory, like him. And oh! may our life's happy measure Of moments like this be made up, 'Twas born on the bosom of Pleasure, It dies mid the tears of the cup.
'Tis the last rose of summer Left blooming alone; All her lovely companions Are faded and gone; No flower of her kindred, No rose-bud is nigh, To reflect back her blushes, Or give sigh for sigh.
I'll not leave thee, thou lone one! To pine on the stem; Since the lovely are sleeping. Go, sleep thou with them. Thus kindly I scatter Thy leaves o'er the bed, Where thy mates of the garden Lie scentless and dead.
So soon may _I_ follow, When friendships decay, And from Love's shining circle The gems drop away. When true hearts lie withered, And fond ones are flown, Oh! who would inhabit This bleak world alone?
The young May moon is beaming, love, The glow-worm's lamp is gleaming, love, How sweet to rove Through Morna's grove, When the drowsy world is dreaming, love! Then awake!--the heavens look bright, my dear, 'Tis never too late for delight, my dear, And the best of all ways To lengthen our days, Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear!