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KING BACCHUS.
King Bacchus grew merry one night over-late,
For friend after friend kept imploring his stay;
Till Time, out of patience, no longer would wait,
So he threw down his sands and went frowning away.
“Never mind, my old fellow,” cried Bacchus, “we'll try
If we can't make these sands into something less dry!”
For friend after friend kept imploring his stay;
Till Time, out of patience, no longer would wait,
So he threw down his sands and went frowning away.
“Never mind, my old fellow,” cried Bacchus, “we'll try
If we can't make these sands into something less dry!”
So he kindled a fire, till the glow and the glare
Seem'd almost too much e'en for friendship to bear;
And with compounds, that magic alone might surpass,
He melted Time's sands to a beautiful glass!
And if by the dozen his friends came before,
When he gave them a glass they flocked in by the score.
Seem'd almost too much e'en for friendship to bear;
And with compounds, that magic alone might surpass,
He melted Time's sands to a beautiful glass!
And if by the dozen his friends came before,
When he gave them a glass they flocked in by the score.
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Then Time, who is rarely a man of his word,
The moment this secret of wonder was heard,
Came back for his sands; but gay Bacchus replied,
And laughed at old Time till he nearly had died,
“Take them, boy, from this glass!” And ere aught could be said,
Old Time snatch'd the glass from poor Bacchus, and fled!
The moment this secret of wonder was heard,
Came back for his sands; but gay Bacchus replied,
And laughed at old Time till he nearly had died,
“Take them, boy, from this glass!” And ere aught could be said,
Old Time snatch'd the glass from poor Bacchus, and fled!
But Bacchus the noble invention retain'd,
And glass after glass in an ecstasy plann'd;
Whilst Time, the queer rogue, much as usual remain'd,
For instead of red wine he fill'd his with red sand.
Only look at his vintage! his sand-glass sublime!
Ha! ha! let us laugh; let us laugh at old Time.
And glass after glass in an ecstasy plann'd;
Whilst Time, the queer rogue, much as usual remain'd,
For instead of red wine he fill'd his with red sand.
Only look at his vintage! his sand-glass sublime!
Ha! ha! let us laugh; let us laugh at old Time.
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