Time—old Time—thy scythe fling down;
Garland thy pate with a myrtle crown,
And fill thy goblet with rosy wine;—
Fill, fill up,
The joy-giving cup,
Fill, fill, &c.
Time—old Time—sighing is vain,
Pleasure from thee not a moment can gain;
Fly, old greybeard, but leave us your glass
To fill as we please,