The Wiccamical Chaplet a selection of original poetry; comprising smaller poems, serious and comic; classical trifles; sonnets; inscriptions and epitaphs; songs and ballads; mock-heroics, epigrams, fragments, &c. &c. Edited by George Huddesford |
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ANACREONTIC.
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 | The Wiccamical Chaplet |  |
66
ANACREONTIC.
[Are the white Hours for ever fled]
Are the white Hours for ever fled
That us'd to mark the cheerful day?
And every killing Pleasure dead
That led th'enraptur'd soul away?
Too fast the rosy-footed train,
The blest, delicious moments pass'd;
Pleasure must now give way to Pain,
And Grief succeeds to Joy at last.
That us'd to mark the cheerful day?
And every killing Pleasure dead
That led th'enraptur'd soul away?
Too fast the rosy-footed train,
The blest, delicious moments pass'd;
Pleasure must now give way to Pain,
And Grief succeeds to Joy at last.
O, Daughters of eternal Jove!
Return with the returning year:
Bring Pleasure back again and Love!
With heavenly smiles again appear!
O bring my H---y to my sight!
What happy Hour will then be by?
And while I'm dying with delight,
Her soul shall speak thro' either eye.
Let sacred Friendship too attend;
The man whose soul is most like mine,
Bring B---, my ever dearest Friend,
And fill the bowl with rosy wine:
We'll grasp the minutes as they pass,
Unconscious of all future woes;
Mirth, Love and Joy shall crown each glass,
And cast our sorrows to our foes.
Return with the returning year:
Bring Pleasure back again and Love!
With heavenly smiles again appear!
O bring my H---y to my sight!
What happy Hour will then be by?
And while I'm dying with delight,
Her soul shall speak thro' either eye.
Let sacred Friendship too attend;
The man whose soul is most like mine,
Bring B---, my ever dearest Friend,
And fill the bowl with rosy wine:
We'll grasp the minutes as they pass,
Unconscious of all future woes;
Mirth, Love and Joy shall crown each glass,
And cast our sorrows to our foes.
67
Let every white and happy hour
Which Fate has to my life decreed
With rosy wings its blessings show'r,
And each in order still succeed:
But when the short-liv'd smiling store
No longer can my bliss engage,
Cut off the useless thousands more
And add them to some coward's age!
Which Fate has to my life decreed
With rosy wings its blessings show'r,
And each in order still succeed:
But when the short-liv'd smiling store
No longer can my bliss engage,
Cut off the useless thousands more
And add them to some coward's age!
| The Wiccamical Chaplet | |