And still the mantling cup is sweet.
Flow, generous wine—and smile, ye fair!
In you the earth forgets her care.
In every land destruction’s wave
O’er buried plains triumphant rode:
Alas! even now an ark may save
Some wretch who flies the advancing flood.
But see! the rainbow shines above,
And toward them comes the peaceful dove—
Flow, generous wine—and smile, ye fair!