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192 HYLAND'S MAMMOTH |
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WREATHE THE BOWL.
Wreathe the bowl With flow'rs of soul The brightest
Wit can And us; We'll take a flight Tow'rds heav'n to-night,
And leave dull earth behind us Should Love amid The wreatns be hid
That Joy, th' enchanter, brings us, No danger fear, While wine is near,
We'll drown him If he stings us. CHORUS.—Then wreathe the bowl /
With flow'rs of sonl The brightest
Wit can find us; We'll take a flight Tow'rds heav'n to-night, And leave dull earth behind us! 'Twas nectar fed Of old, 'tis said,
Their Junos, Joves, Apollos; And Man may brew His nectar too, •
The rich receipt's as follows: Take wine like this. Let looks of bliss
Around it well be blended, Then bring Wit's biam To warm the stream,
And there's your nectar, splendid.
Then wreathe the bowl, etc. Say, why did Time His glass sublime
Fill up with sands unsightly, When wine, he knew, Runs brisker through,
And sparkles far more brightly? Oh, lend it us, And, smiling thus.
The glass In two we'll sever, Make pleasure glide In double tide,
And fill both ends for ever!
Then wreathe the bowl, etc. |
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WHEN WAR WAS HEARD.
"When war was heard, and Erin's call
Around me from thy side. No danger could my heart appal,
For thee I would have died. But when our moments sweetly flew.
Beneath the spreading tree, The secret charm of life I knew,
To live for love and thee.
"When gloomy care disturb*d thy rest,
Or sorrow dimm'd thine eye. Oh, did not then this tender breast
Return the sigh for sigh? But did delight thy bosom know
And love thine hours employ, We shar'd the sympathetic glow.
And mingled tears of joy. |
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