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| THE MAN that joins in life’s career | |
| And hopes to find some comfort here, | |
| To rise above this earthly mass,— | |
| The only way ’s to drink his glass. | |
| |
| But still, on this uncertain stage | 5 |
| Where hopes and fears the soul engage, | |
| And while, amid the joyous band, | |
| Unheeded flows the measured sand, | |
| Forget not as the moments pass | |
| That time shall bring the parting glass! | 10 |
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| In spite of all the mirth I ’ve heard, | |
| This is the glass I always feared, | |
| The glass that would the rest destroy, | |
| The farewell cup, the close of joy. | |
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| With you, whom reason taught to think, | 15 |
| I could for ages sit and drink; | |
| But with the fool, the sot, the ass, | |
| I haste to take the parting glass. | |
| |
| The luckless wight, that still delays | |
| His draught of joys to future days, | 20 |
| Delays too long—for then, alas! | |
| Old age steps up, and—breaks the glass! | |
| |
| The nymph who boasts no borrowed charms, | |
| Whose sprightly wit my fancy warms,— | |
| What though she tends this country inn, | 25 |
| And mixes wine, and deals out gin? | |
| With such a kind, obliging lass, | |
| I sigh to take the parting glass. | |
| |
| With him who always talks of gain | |
| (Dull Momus, of the plodding train), | 30 |
| The wretch who thrives by others’ woes, | |
| And carries grief where’er he goes,— | |
| With people of this knavish class | |
| The first is still my parting glass. | |
| |
| With those that drink before they dine, | 35 |
| With him that apes the grunting swine, | |
| Who fills his page with low abuse, | |
| And strives to act the gabbling goose | |
| Turned out by fate to feed on grass— | |
| Boy, give me quick, the parting glass. | 40 |
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| The man whose friendship is sincere, | |
| Who knows no guilt, and feels no fear,— | |
| It would require a heart of brass | |
| With him to take the parting glass. | |
| |
| With him who quaffs his pot of ale, | 45 |
| Who holds to all an even scale, | |
| Who hates a knave in each disguise, | |
| And fears him not—whate’er his size— | |
| With him, well pleased my days to pass, | |
| May heaven forbid the Parting Glass! | 50 |
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