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And never does Time travel faster
Than when his way lies among flow'rs.
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.
This evening we saw the sun sinking
In waters his glory made bright— Oh ! trust me, our farewell of drinking
Should be like 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.
Wine. I, jovial wine, exhilarate the heart.
Beer. March beer is a drink for a king.
Ale. But ale, bonny ale, with spice and a tost,
In the morning's a dainty thing.
Chorus. Then let us be merry, wash sorrow away ! Wine, beer and ale shall be drunk to-day.
1 1658. In Garrick Collection.