_Ode Xxxii._

Yes, be the glorious revel mine, Where humour sparkles from the wine! Around me let the youthful choir Respond to my beguiling lyre; And while the red cup circles round, Mingle in soul as well as sound! Let the bright nymph, with trembling eye, Beside me all in blushes lie; And, while she weaves a frontlet fair Of hyacinth to deck my hair, Oh! let me snatch her sidelong kisses, And that shall be my bliss of blisses! My soul, to festive feeling true, One pang of envy never knew;

And little has it learn'd to dread The gall that envy's tongue can shed. Away--I hate the slanderous dart, Which steals to wound th' unwary heart; And oh! I hate, with all my soul, Discordant clamours o'er the bowl, Where every cordial heart should be Attuned to peace and harmony. Come, let us hear the soul of song Expire the silver harp along; And through the dance's ringlet move, With maidens mellowing into love: Thus simply happy, thus at peace, Sure such a life should never cease!