From the table now retreating,
All around the fire they meet,
And, with wine, the sons of eating,
Crown at length the mighty treat:
Triumphant plenty's rosy traces
Sparkle in their jolly faces;
And mirth and cheerfulness are seen
In each countenance serene.
Fill high the sparkling glass,
And drink the accustomed toast;
Drink deep, ye mighty host,
And let the bottle pass.
Begin, begin the jovial strain;
Fill, fill the mystic bowl;
And drink, and drink, and drink again;
For drinking fires the soul.
But soon, too soon, with one accord they reel;
Each on his seat begins to nod;
All conquering BACCHUS' pow'r they feel,
And pour libations to the jolly god.
At length, with dinner, and with wine oppress'd,
Down in their chairs they sink, and give themselves to rest.
* * * * *