To the Tune of, Auld Sir Symon the King.
COme here’s to the nymph that I love!
Away ye vain sorrows, away:
Far, far from my bosom be gone,
All there shall be pleasant and gay.
Far hence be the sad and the pensive,
Come fill up the glasses around,
We’ll drink till our faces be ruddy,
And all our vain sorrows are drown’d.
‘Tis done and my fancy’s exulting
With every gay blooming desire,
My blood with brisk ardour is glowing,
Soft pleasures my bosom inspire.
My soul now to love is disolving,
Oh fate! had I here my fair charmer,
I’d clasp her, I’d clasp her so eager,
Of all her disdain, I’d disarm her.
But hold, what has love to do here
With his troops of vain cares in aray,
Avaunt idle pensive intruder, –
He triumphs he will not away.
I’ll drown him, come give me a bumper;
Young Cupid, here’s to thy confusion. –
Now, now, he’s departing, he’s vanquish’d,
Adieu to his anxious delusion.
Come, jolly God Bacchus, here’s to thee;
Huzza boys, huzza boys, huzza,
Sing Iô, sing Iô to Bacchus –
Hence all ye dull thinkers withdraw.
Come, what shou’d we do but be jovial,
Come tune up your voices and sing;
What soul is so dull to be heavy,
When wine set’s our fancies on wing.
Come, Pegasus lies in this bottle,
He’ll mount us, he’ll mount us on high,
Each of us a gallant young Perseus,
Sublime we’ll ascend to the sky.
Come mount, or adieu, I arise,
In seas of wide Æther I’m drown’d,
The clouds far beneath me are sailing,
I see the spheres whirling around.
What darkness, what ratling is this,
Thro’ Chaos’ dark regions I’m hurl’d,
And now, – oh my head it is knockt,
Upon some confounded new world.
Now, now these dark shades are retiring,
See yonder bright blazes a star,
Where am I? – behold the Empyreum,
With flaming light streaming from far.
– New Words by Different Hands.