"I am old, but let me drink; Bring me spices, bring me wine ; I remember, when I think, That my youth was half divine. "Wine is good for shrivell'd lips, When a blanket wraps the day, When the rotten woodland drips, And the leaf is stamp'd in clay. "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: "Fill the cup, and fill the can : Every moment dies a man, "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 in the hands of fools. "Friendship!-to be two in one- How she mouths behind my back. "Virtue !-to be good and justEvery heart, when sifted well, Is a clot of warmer dust, Mix'd with cunning sparks of hell. "O we two as well can look Whited thought and cleanly life As the priest, above his book Leering at his neighbour's wife. "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 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: All the windy ways of men Are but dust that rises up, And is lightly laid again. "Greet her with applausive breath, Freedom, gaily doth she tread; In her right a civic wreath, In her left a human head. "No, I love not what is new; "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, And the warmth of hand in hand. "Tell me tales of thy first loveApril hopes, the fools of chance; Till the graves begin to move, And the dead begin to dance. "Fill the can, and fill the cup: All the windy ways of men Are but dust that rises up, And is lightly laid again. 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 I "Thou art mazed, the night is long, And the longer night is near: "Youthful hopes, by scores, to all, 66 And my mockeries of the world. Fill the cup, and fill the can! 5 The voice grew faint: there came a further change: By shards and scurf of salt, and scum of dross, The crime of malice, and is equal blame." And one: He had not wholly quench'd his power; Cry to the summit, "Is there any hope?" XCIII COME not, when I am dead, To drop thy foolish tears upon my grave, To trample round my fallen head, And vex the unhappy dust thou would'st not save. There let the wind sweep and the plover cry: But thou, go by. Child, if it were thine error or thy crime I care no longer, being all unblest : Wed whom thou wilt, but I am sick of Time, Pass on, weak heart, and leave me where I lie : Go by, go by. XCIV THE EAGLE FRAGMENT HE clasps the crag with hooked hands The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls; XCV MOVE eastward, happy earth, and leave From fringes of the faded eve, O, happy planet, eastward go; Till over thy dark shoulder glow Thy silver sister-world, and rise To glass herself in dewy eyes That watch me from the glen below. Ah, bear me with thee, lightly borne, XCVI BREAK, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, O Sea O well for the fisherman's boy, That he shouts with his sister at play ! O well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay! And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill; But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand, |