Wov'n in circles: they that heard it sigh'd, 20 25 30 The strong tempestuous treble throbb'd and palpitated; 35 Hair, and eyes, and limbs, and faces, Like to Furies, like to Graces, Dash'd together in blinding dew: Till, kill'd with some luxurious agony, The nerve-dissolving melody 45 3. 50 And then I look'd up toward a mountain-tract, Beyond the darkness and the cataract,] Unheeded and detaching, fold by fold, : From those still heights, and, slowly drawing near, Came floating on for many a month and year, 65 70 4. "Wrinkled ostler, grim and thin! Here is custom come your way; Stuff his ribs with mouldy hay. "Bitter barmaid, waning fast! See that sheets are on my bed; Slip-shod waiter, lank and sour, At the Dragon on the heath! Let us have a quiet hour, Let us hob-and-nob with Death. "I am old, but let me drink; Bring me spices, bring me wine; "Wine is good for shrivell'd lips, "Sit thee down, and have no shame, Cheek by jowl, and knee by knee: What care I for any name? What for order or degree? "Let me screw thee up a peg: Let me loose thy tongue with wine: Callest thou that thing a leg? Which is thinnest ? thine or mine? "Thou shalt not be saved by works: 95 "Fill the cup, and fill the can: 100 105 110 115 Have a rouse before the moru: "We are men of ruin'd blood; "Name and fame! to fly sublime Thro' 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— Well I know, when I am gone, How she mouths behind my back. "Virtue!-to be good and just- Mix'd with cunning sparks of hell. "O! we two as well can look Whited thought and cleanly life "Fill the cup, and fill the can: Have a rouse before the morn: 120 Every moment dies a man, 66 Every moment one is born. 'Drink, and let the parties rave: They are fill'd 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, 125 130 "Greet her with applausive breath, 135 Freedom, gaily doth she tread; In her right a civic wreath, In her left a human head. "No, I love not what is new; Б В 2 140 |