 | English melodies |  |
59
THE BOTTLE.
The Bottle, I've said, though but few yet believ'd it,
Is rarely content till it's had its own way;
It may give you a pleasure, but when you've receiv'd it,
You're sure to pay double in sadness next day:
'Neath its social enchantment earth seems all elysian,
Every trouble in life, every trial seems o'er,
But the morning awakes,—and away goes the vision,
And earth is more dreary and dark than before.
Is rarely content till it's had its own way;
It may give you a pleasure, but when you've receiv'd it,
You're sure to pay double in sadness next day:
'Neath its social enchantment earth seems all elysian,
Every trouble in life, every trial seems o'er,
But the morning awakes,—and away goes the vision,
And earth is more dreary and dark than before.
You say that the Bottle hath friends ever ready
To serve you, or shield you, whatever betide;
But if to true Friendship the Bottle be steady,
'Tis known to be steady to nothing beside:
'Tis the bloom of the west that in glory adorning
The banquet of Night in its crimson array,
Leaves a cloud and a tear on the cheek of the morning,
And darkens the proud independence of day.
To serve you, or shield you, whatever betide;
But if to true Friendship the Bottle be steady,
'Tis known to be steady to nothing beside:
60
The banquet of Night in its crimson array,
Leaves a cloud and a tear on the cheek of the morning,
And darkens the proud independence of day.
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