TAKE HENCE THE BOWL.
Reading edition
(NEAPOLITAN AIR.)
Take hence the bowl;—tho' beaming Brightly as bowl e'er shone, Oh, it but sets me dreaming Of happy days now gone. There, in its clear reflection, As in a wizard's glass, Lost hopes and dead affection, Like shades, before me pass.
Each cup I drain brings hither Some scene of bliss gone by;— Bright lips too bright to wither, Warm hearts too warm to die. Till, as the dream comes o'er me Of those long vanished years, Alas, the wine before me Seems turning all to tears!