Poems on Several Occasions ... To which is added, the Plague of Wealth, Occasion'd By the Author's receiving fifty Pounds from his Excellency the Lord Carteret, for the foremention'd Ode. With several Poems not in the Dublin Edition. By Matthew Pilkington. Revised by the Reverend Dr. Swift |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. | ODE IV. |
| V. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| XXXIV. |
 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
119
ODE IV.
On Myrtles laid, with Roses crown'd,
And Flow'rs that breathe Delight around,
I'll drink, and all my Soul incline
To Mirth, the Child of gen'rous Wine.
And Flow'rs that breathe Delight around,
I'll drink, and all my Soul incline
To Mirth, the Child of gen'rous Wine.
Then Love shall like my Slave, prepare
The genial Bowl that poisons Care;
For, swiftly as the Chariot flies,
To win the hard-contested Prize,
Our Life as swiftly rolls away
With all that's pleasing, all that's gay.
This Frame must soon to Ashes turn,
And fill the cold Sepulchral Urn,
And Silence chain the tuneful Tongue,
Each Bone dissolv'd, each Nerve unstrung.
The genial Bowl that poisons Care;
For, swiftly as the Chariot flies,
To win the hard-contested Prize,
Our Life as swiftly rolls away
With all that's pleasing, all that's gay.
120
And fill the cold Sepulchral Urn,
And Silence chain the tuneful Tongue,
Each Bone dissolv'd, each Nerve unstrung.
Why on our Tombs are Unguents spread,
Superfluous Care! to grace the Dead?
And why the vain Libation paid,
To honour an inconscious Shade?
Rather to me, while yet I live,
The costly fragrant Blessings give:
My Head with roseate Crowns adorn,
Whose Sweets surpass the Breath of Morn,
And call the Fair, whose Charms impart
Soft Ecstasies that sway the Heart.
Superfluous Care! to grace the Dead?
And why the vain Libation paid,
To honour an inconscious Shade?
Rather to me, while yet I live,
The costly fragrant Blessings give:
My Head with roseate Crowns adorn,
Whose Sweets surpass the Breath of Morn,
And call the Fair, whose Charms impart
Soft Ecstasies that sway the Heart.
121
O Love, e'er I'm compell'd to go
To Crowds of joyless Shades below,
My Soul shall ev'ry Pleasure share,
And court Delight, and banish Care.
To Crowds of joyless Shades below,
My Soul shall ev'ry Pleasure share,
And court Delight, and banish Care.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |