SONGS,
BY THOMAS MOORE, ESQ.
From the "Summer Féte," just published.
Some mortals there may be, so wise, or so fine,
As in evenings like this no enjoyment to see;
But, as I'm not particular—wit, love, and wine,
Are for one night's amusement sufficient for me.
Nay—humble and strange as my tastes may appear—
If driv'n to the worst, I could manage, thank heaven,
To put up with eyes such as beam round me here,