SONG OF THE TWO CUPBEARERS.

Drink of this cup—Osiris sips The same in his halls below; And the same he gives, to cool the lips Of the dead, who downward go.

Drink of this cup—the water within Is fresh from Lethe's stream; 'Twill make the past, with all its sin, And all its pain and sorrows, seem Like a long forgotten dream; The pleasure, whose charms Are steeped in woe; The knowledge, that harms The soul to know;

The hope, that bright As the lake of the waste, Allures the sight And mocks the taste;

The love, that binds Its innocent wreath, Where the serpent winds In venom beneath!—

All that of evil or false, by thee Hath ever been known or seen, Shalt melt away in this cup, and be Forgot as it never had been!