ODE.
(From the Persian.)
The joys of love and youth be mine,
The cheerful glass, the ruby wine,
The social feast, the merry friend,
And brimming goblets without end.
The maid whose lips all sweets contain,
The minstrel with bewitching strain,
And, by my side, the merry soul
Who briskly circulates the bowl!
A maiden full of life and light,
Like Eden's fountains pure and bright;
Whose sweetness steals the heart away,
Mild, beauteous, as the moon of May.
A banquet-hall, the social room,
Cool, spacious, breathing rich perfume,
Like that fair hall where, midst the roses,
Each saint in heaven above reposes!
Servants in briskness who excel,
Friends who can keep a secret well,
And merry men who love their lass,
And drink your health in many a glass.
Wine, sparkling like the ruby bright,
Neither too sweet, nor yet too light;
One draught from purple wine we'll sip,
And one from beauty's rosy lip!
A maid, whose joyous glances roll
To cheer the heart and charm the soul;
Whose graceful locks, that flow behind,
Engage and captivate mankind!
A noble friend, whose rank is grac'd
By learning and poetic taste;
Who, like my Patron, loves the bard,
Well skill'd true merit to reward!
Breathes there a man too cold to prove
The joys of friendship or of love?
Oh, let him die! when these are fled
Scarce do we differ from the dead!
Gentleman's Magazine.