A WINTER-SONG
Rich wines, flow, flow!
Keen North winds blow,
To rest doth Phoebus sink:
The shaggy bear
Frowns night-blasts near,
Drink, brethren, let us drink!
The wood-fire bright
Spreads cheerful light,
Lo! Sparks, in volumes, fly;
The noble
Provides us wine:
Quaff, brethren, joyously!
The banquet gay
Drives frost away,
And ushers blooming Spring:
Joy’s magic hours
Are crowned with flowers,
While feathered warblers sing.
Songs echo round,
Harps sweetly sound,
We rove through valleys fair,
A virgin-train
Glide o’er the plain,
And grapes luxuriant bear.
Rush wildly forth,
Blasts from the North,
O’er valleys decked with snow!
Yet, gently pass
That sparkling glass,
Whence purples juices flow!
Pain, brown and blue
The haughty shrew,
With supercilioius air!
Yet, Boreas keen,
Shun Hermeline
Who veils her bosom fair!
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