Song. When the Fancy Stirring Bowl

When the fancy stirring bowl Wakes its world of pleasure, Glowing visions gild my soul, And life's an endless treasure; Mem'ry decks my wasted heart, Fresh with gay desires, Rays divine my senses dart, And kiddling hope inspires, Then who'd be grave, When wine can save The heaviest soul from sinking, And magic grapes Give angel shapes, To ev'ry girl we're drinking.

Here sweet benignity and love Shed their influence round me, Gather'd ills of life remove, And leave me as they found me, Though my head may swim, yet true Still to nature's feeling; Peace and beauty swim there too, And rock me as I'm reeling. Then who'd be grave, &c.

On youth's soft pillow tender truth, Her pensive lesson taught me, Age soon mock'd the dream of youth, And wisdom wak'd and caught me, A bargain then with love I knock'd To hold the pleasing gipsey, Then wise to keep my bosom lock'd, But turn the key when tipsey. Then who'd be grave, &c.

When time assuag'd my heated heart The grey-beard blind and simple, Forgot to cool one little part Just flush'd by Lucy's dimple. That part's enough of beauty's type To warm an honest fellow; And though it touch me not when ripe, It melts still while I'm mellow. Then who'd be grave, &c.