To Thee I breathe my humble strain,
Grateful for all thy mercies past,
And hope, my God, to thee again
This erring life may fly at last.
December 29, 1806.
TRANSLATION FROM ANACREON.
Mingle with the genial bowl
The Rose, the flow'ret of the Soul,
The Rose and Grape together quaff'd,
How doubly sweet will be the draught!
With Roses crown our jovial brows,
While every cheek with Laughter glows;
While Smiles and Songs, with Wine incite,
To wing our moments with Delight.
Rose by far the fairest birth,
Which Spring and Nature cull from Earth—
Rose whose sweetest perfume given,
My hope, my God, in thee again
This erring life will fly at last.—[MS. Newstead.]
- [From an autograph MS. at Newstead, now for the first time printed.]