(Drinking from a Glass of Wine and
…………Drowned Therein)
Thou, born to sip the lake or spring,
Or quaff the waters of the stream,
Why hither come on vagrant wing? –
Does Bacchus tempting seem –
Did he, for you, this glass prepare? –
Will I admit you to a share?
Did storms harass or foes perplex,
Did wasps or king-birds bring dismay –
Did wars distress, or labours vex,
Or did you miss your way? –
A better seat you could not take
Than on the margin of this lake.
Welcome! – I hail you to my glass:
All welcome, here, you find;
Here, let the cloud of trouble pass,
Here, be all care resigned. –
This fluid never fails to please,
And drown the griefs of men or bees.
What forced you here, we cannot know,
And you will scarcely tell –
But cheery we would have you go
And bid a glad farewell;
On lighter wings we bid you fly,
Your dart will now all foes defy.
Yet take not, oh! too deep a drink,
And in this ocean die;
Here bigger bees than you might sink,
Even bees full six feet high.
Like Pharaoh, then, you would be said
To perish in a sea of red.
Do as you please, your will is mine;
Enjoy it without fear –
And your grave will be this glass of wine,
Your epitaph – a tear –
Go, take your seat in Charon’s boat,
We’ll tell the hive, you died afloat.
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