Thomas Moore ( )


From Irish Melodies. 72. Fill the Bumper Fair


          FILL the bumper fair!
                Every drop we sprinkle
          Oer the brow of Care
                Smooths away a wrinkle.
          Wits electric flame
                Neer so swiftly passes,
          As when through the frame
                It shoots from brimming glasses.
          Fill the bumper fair!
                Every drop we sprinkle
          Oer the brow of Care
                Smooths away a wrinkle.

          Sages can, they say,
                Grasp the lightnings pinions,
          And bring down its ray
                From the starrd dominions:
          So we, Sages, sit,
                And, mid bumpers brightening,
          From the Heaven of Wit
                Draw down all its lightning.
                    Fill the bumper, etc.

          Wouldst thou know what first
                Made our souls inherit
          This ennobling thirst
                For wines celestial spirit?
          It chanced, upon that day,
                When, as bards inform us,
          Prometheus stole away
                The living fires that warm us:
                    Fill the bumper etc.

          The careless Youth, when up
                To Glorys fount aspiring,
          Took nor urn nor cup
                To hide the pilferd fire in. 
          But oh, his joy, when, round
                The halls of heaven spying,
          Among the stars he found,
                  The bowl of Bacchus lying!
                    Fill the bumper, etc.

          Some drops were in that bowl,
                Remains of last nights pleasure,
          With which the Sparks of Soul
                Mixd their burning treasure.
          Hence the goblets shower
                Hath such spells to win us;
          Hence its mighty power
                Oer that flame within us.
          Fill the bumper fair!
                Every drop we sprinkle
          Oer the brow of Care
                Smooths away a wrinkle.



Thomas Moore's other poems:
  1. From The Odes of Anacreon. Ode 46
  2. From The Odes of Anacreon. Ode 60
  3. From The Odes of Anacreon. Ode 19
  4. From The Odes of Anacreon. Ode 30
  5. From The Odes of Anacreon. Ode 9


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