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The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore

Collected by Himself. In Ten Volumes
Moore, Thomas (1779-1852)
  
[dedication]

collapse sectionI, II. 
VOL. I., VOL. II. ODES OF ANACREON. JUVENILE POEMS. POEMS RELATING TO AMERICA.
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JUVENILE POEMS.
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POEMS RELATING TO AMERICA.
  
[dedication]
  
TO LORD VISCOUNT STRANGFORD.
  
STANZAS.
  
TO THE FLYING-FISH.
  
TO MISS MOORE.
  
THE LAKE OF THE DISMAL SWAMP.
  
TO THE MARCHIONESS DOWAGER OF DONEGALL.
  
TO GEORGE MORGAN, ESQ. OF NORFOLK, VIRGINIA.
  
LINES, WRITTEN IN A STORM AT SEA.
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ODES TO NEA;
  
TO JOSEPH ATKINSON, ESQ.
  
THE STEERMAN'S SONG,
  
TO THE FIRE-FLY.
  
TO THE LORD VISCOUNT FORBES.
  
TO THOMAS HUME, ESQ. M.D.
  
LINES WRITTEN ON LEAVING PHILADELPHIA.
  
LINES WRITTEN AT THE COHOS, OR FALLS OF THE MOHAWK RIVER.
  
SONG OF THE EVIL SPIRIT OF THE WOODS.
  
TO THE HONOURABLE W. R. SPENCER.
  
BALLAD STANZAS.
  
A CANADIAN BOAT SONG.
  
TO THE LADY CHARLOTTE RAWDON.
  
IMPROMPTU, AFTER A VISIT TO MRS. ---, OF MONTREAL.
  
WRITTEN ON PASSING DEADMAN'S ISLAND ,
  
TO THE BOSTON FRIGATE ,
expand sectionIII, IV. 
VOL. III., VOL. IV. CORRUPTION AND INTOLERANCE. THE SCEPTIC. TWOPENNY POST-BAG. SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS POEMS. IRISH MELODIES. NATIONAL AIRS. SACRED SONGS.
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VOL. V. EVENINGS IN GREECE. BALLADS, SONGS, MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, ETC. ETC.
expand sectionVI, VII. 
VOL. VI., VOL. VII. LALLA ROOKH. POLITICAL AND SATIRICAL POEMS. THE FUDGE FAMILY IN PARIS. FABLES FOR THE HOLY ALLIANCE. RHYMES ON THE ROAD. AND MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
expand sectionVIII, IX. 
VOL. VIII., VOL. IX THE LOVES OF THE ANGELS. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS POEMS. THE FUDGES IN ENGLAND. MISCELLANEOUS.
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VOL. X. THE EPICUREAN. ALCIPHRON.

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60

QUICK! WE HAVE BUT A SECOND.

Quick! we have but a second,
Fill round the cup, while you may;
For Time, the churl, hath beckon'd,
And we must away, away!
Grasp the pleasure that's flying,
For oh, not Orpheus' strain
Could keep sweet hours from dying,
Or charm them to life again.
Then, quick! we have but a second,
Fill round the cup, while you may;
For Time, the churl, hath beckon'd,
And we must away, away!
See the glass, how it flushes,
Like some young Hebe's lip,
And half meets thine, and blushes
That thou shouldst delay to sip.
61

Shame, oh shame unto thee,
If ever thou see'st that day,
When a cup or lip shall woo thee,
And turn untouch'd away!
Then, quick! we have but a second,
Fill round, fill round, while you may;
For Time, the churl, hath beckon'd,
And we must away, away!
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