Thanks for the pouring out of plenty’s horn,
And gratitude for life and health—nay, more,
For liberty, without which all things else
Were vain. And while he stands with streaming eye,
And hand that palsy oft has clasped in vain,
His trembling accents fall upon the ear,
Like distant music at the close of day.
The service o’er, the merry feast begins,
Then joy runs riot round the sacred chair,
And dignified propriety is gay