SONG OF THE GOBLET.
Fling corse-bedecking rosemary around.
She offers nightshade, spreads a winding-sheet,
Points to the clinging clay upon her feet,
And whispers tidings of the charnel-ground.
Oh! pray thee, Melancholy, do not bring
These bitter emblems with thee! I can bear
With all but these 'tis these, oh God! that wring
And plunge my heart in maddening despair.
Hence, for awhile, pale Melancholy; go!
And let sweet slumber lull my weeping woe.
She offers nightshade, spreads a winding-sheet,
Points to the clinging clay upon her feet,
And whispers tidings of the charnel-ground.
Oh! pray thee, Melancholy, do not bring
These bitter emblems with thee! I can bear
With all but these 'tis these, oh God! that wring
And plunge my heart in maddening despair.
Hence, for awhile, pale Melancholy; go!
And let sweet slumber lull my weeping woe.
SONG OF THE GOBLET.
I have kept my place at the rich man's board
For many a waning night;
Where streams of dazzling splendour poured
Their galaxy of light:
No wilder revelry has rung
Than where my home has been;
All that the bard of Teos sung,
Has the golden Goblet seen:
And what I could tell, full many might deem
A fable of fancy, or tale of a dream.
For many a waning night;
Where streams of dazzling splendour poured
Their galaxy of light:
No wilder revelry has rung
Than where my home has been;
All that the bard of Teos sung,
Has the golden Goblet seen:
And what I could tell, full many might deem
A fable of fancy, or tale of a dream.
I have beheld a courteous band
Sit round in bright array;
Their voices firm, their words all bland,
And brows like a cloudless day:
But soon the guests were led by the host
To dash out Reason's lamp;
And then God's noble image had lost
The fineness of its stamp:
And their sober cheeks have blush'd to hear
What they told p'er to me without shame or fear.
Sit round in bright array;
Their voices firm, their words all bland,
And brows like a cloudless day:
But soon the guests were led by the host
To dash out Reason's lamp;
And then God's noble image had lost
The fineness of its stamp:
And their sober cheeks have blush'd to hear
What they told p'er to me without shame or fear.
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