“Name and fame! to fly sublime Through the courts, the camps, the schools, Is to be the ball of Time, Bandied by the hands of fools. Friendship!-to be two in one- "Virtue !—to be good and justEvery heart, when sifted well, Is a clot of warmer dust, Mixed with cunning sparks of hell, "O! we two as well can look "Fill the cup, and fill the can: Have a rouse before the morn: Every moment dies a man, Every moment one is born. “Drink, and let the parties rave: They are filled with idle spleen, Rising, falling, like a wave, For they know not what they mean. "He that roars for liberty Faster binds a tyrant's power; And the tyrant's cruel glee Forces on the freer hour. "Fill the can, and fill the cup: Are but dust that rises up, "Greet her with applausive breath, Freedom, gayly doth she tread; In her right a civic wreath, In her left a human head. "No, I love not what is new; She is of an ancient house : And I think we know the hue Of that cap upon her brows. "Let her go! her thirst she slakes "Drink to lofty hopes that cool- "Chant me now some wicked stave, "Fear not thou to loose thy tongue; "Change, reverting to the years, When thy nerves could understand What there is in loving tears, And the warmth of hand in hand. "Tell me tales of thy first love—- Till the graves begin to move, "Fill the can, and fill the cup: Trooping from their mouldy dens The chap-fallen circle spreads": Welcome, fellow-citizens, Hollow hearts and empty heads ! "You are bones, and what of that? "Death is king, and Vivat Rex! Tread a measure on the stones, Madam-if I know your sex, From the fashion of your bones. "No, I cannot praise the fire In your eye-nor yet your lip: All the more do I admire Joints of cunning workmanship. “Lo! God's likeness—the ground-plan— "Drink to Fortune, drink to Chance, While we keep a little breath! Drink to heavy Ignorance! Hob-and-nob with brother Death! "Thou art mazed, the night is long, “Youthful hopes, by scores, to all, And my mockeries of the world. "Fill the cup, and fill the can! The voice grew faint: there came a further change; power; A little grain of conscience made him sour." Cry to the summit, "Is there any hope? THE SKIPPING-ROPE. SURE never yet was Antelope Stand off, or else my skipping-rope How lightly whirls the skipping-rope! Go, get you gone, you muse and mope-- Nay, dearest, teach me how to hope, There, take it, take my skipping-rope MOVE EASTWARD, HAPPY EARTH, AND LEAVE. MOVE eastward, happy earth, and leave Ah, bear me with thee, smoothly borne, BREAK, BREAK, BREAK. BREAK, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, oh Sea! O well for the fisherman's boy, That he shouts with his sister at play! That he sings in his boat on the bay ! |