A DRINKING SONG. BY LORD BYRON. FILL the goblet again! for I never before Felt the glow that now gladdens my heart to its core; Let us drink?-Who would not? since through life's varied round In the goblet alone no deception is found. I have tried in its turn all that life can supply; That pleasure existed whilst passion was there! In the days of my youth-when the heart's in its spring, And dreams that affection can never take wing,- avow That friends, rosy wine, are so faithful as thou! The breast of a mistress some boy may estrange ;' Friendship shifts with the sunbeam ;-thou never canst change; Thou growest old!-Who does not?-but on earth what appears, Whose virtues like thine but increase with their years. Yet if blessed to the utmost that love can bestow, We are jealous!-Who's not?-thou hast no such alloy, For the more that enjoy thee, the more they enjoy. 52 A DRINKING SONG. Then the season of Youth and its jollities past, There we find-Do we not ?-in the flow of the soul, When the Box of Pandora was opened on earth, And care not for hope who are certain of bliss! Long life to the grape, and when summer is flown, We must die!-Who shall not?-may our sins be forgiven, And Hebe shall never be idle in Heaven! TO LORD BYRON.* BY THOMAS MOORE. WHY hast thou bound around, with silver rim, Is this the cup wherein thou seek'st the balm, *On reading his "Stanzas on the Silver Foot of a Skull mounted as a Cup for Wine." Woe to the lip to which this cup is held! Strip, then, this glittering mockery from the skull, And seek a healing balm within the bowl, THE AMERICAN EAGLE. BY CHARLES WEST THOMPSON. BIRD of the heavens! whose matchless eye When thou hast ta'en thy seat alone, Bird of the cliffs! thy noble form The mountain and the rock are thine; 54 THE AMERICAN EAGLE. And there, where never foot has been, Bird of the sun! to thee-to thee The earliest tints of dawn are known, And 'tis thy proud delight to see The monarch mount his gorgeous throne; Men shrink, and veil their dazzled eyes; Hast kingly rank as well as he; And with a steady, dauntless gaze, Thou meet'st the splendour of his blaze. Bird of Colombia! well art thou With spreading wing, untired and strong, The admiration of the earth, In grand simplicity she stands ; Like thee, the storms beheld her birth, And she was nursed by rugged hands; But, past the fierce and furious war, Her rising fame new glory brings, For kings and nobles come from far To seek the shelter of her wings. And like thee, rider of the cloud, She mounts the heavens, serene and proud, Great in a pure and noble fame, Great in her spotless champion's name, And destined in her day to be Mighty as Rome-more nobly free. My native land! my native land! To whom my thoughts will fondly turn; For her the warmest hopes expand, For her the heart with fears will yearn. Oh! may she keep her eye, like thee, Proud eagle of the rocky wild, Fixed on the sun of liberty, By rank, by faction, unbeguiled; Remembering still the rugged road Our venerable fathers trod, When they through toil and danger pressed, To gain their glorious bequest, And from each lip the caution fell To those who followed, "Guard it well." |