He thought that jolly living
Must every joy afford;
His heart knew no misgiving,
While round the festive board.
He wanted to be great, sir,
And feed on fare delicious, And have his feasts in state, sir, Just like King Dionysius.
The king, to cure his longing,
Prepared a feast so fine,
That all the court were thronging
To see the courtier dine.
And there, to tempt his eye, sir,
Was fish, and flesh, and fowl;
And when he was a-dry, sir,
There stood the brimming bowl.
Nor did the king forbid him
From drinking all he could;
The monarch never chid him,
But filled him with his food.
O then to see the pleasure
Squire Damocles expressed!
'Twas joy beyond all measure :
Was ever man so blessed?
With greedy eyes the squire
Devoured each costly dainty;
You'd think he did aspire
To eat as much as twenty.
But, just as he prepared, sir,
Of bliss to take a swing,
O, how the man was scared, sir,
By this so cruel king!
When he to eat intended,
Lo! just above his head,
He spied a sword suspended
All by a single thread.
How did it change the feasting
To wormwood and to gall,
To think, while he was tasting,
The pointed sword might fall!
Then in a moment's time, sir,
He loathed the luscious feast; And dreaded as a crime, sir, The brimming bowl to taste.
Now, if you're for applying
The story I have told,
I think there's no denying
"Tis worth its weight in gold.
Ye gay, who view this stranger,
And pity his sad case;
And think there was great danger
In such a fearful place;
Come, let this awful truth, sir,
In all your minds be stored;
To each intemperate youth, sir,
Death is that pointed sword.
And though you see no reason
To check your mirth at all,
In some licentious season
The sword on you may fall.
So learn, while, at your ease, sir,
You drink down draughts delicious,
To think of Damocles, sir,
And old King Dionysius.
THE WAY TO GET A GOOD FARE.
TO THE TUNE OF "I WISH I WAS A FISHERMAN."
I AM a bold coachman, and drive a good hack,
With a coat of five capes that quite covers my back;
And my wife keeps a sausage-shop, not many miles
From the narrowest alley in all broad St. Giles.
Though poor, we are honest and very content;
We pay, as we go, for meat, drink, and for rent;
To work all the week I am able and willing;
I never get drunk, and I waste not a shilling.
And while at a tavern my gentleman tarries,
The coachman grows richer than he whom he carries; "And I'd rather,” said I, “ since it saves me from sin, Be the driver without, than the toper within."
Yet tho' dram-shops I hate, and the dram-drinking friend
I'm not quite so good, but I wish I may mend;
I repent of my sins, since we all are depraved,
For a coachman, I hold, has a soul to be saved.
When a riotous multitude fills up a street,
And the greater part know not, boys, wherefore they meet,
If I see there is mischief, I never go there;
Let others get tipsy, so I get my fare.
Now to church if I take some good lady to pray,
It grieves me full sore to be kept quite away;
So I step within side, though the sermon's begun,
For a slice of the service is better than none.
Then my glasses are whole, and my coach is so neat,
I am always the first to be called in the street;
And I'm known by the name ('tis a name rather rare)
Of the coachman that never asks more than his fare.
Though my beasts should be dull, yet I don't use them ill;
Though they stumble, I swear not, nor cut them up
hill;
For I firmly believe there's no charm in an oath,
That can make a nag trot, when to walk he is loath.
And though I'm a coachman, I'll freely confess,
I beg of my Maker my labors to bless;
praise him each morning, and pray every night; And 'tis this makes my heart feel so cheerful and light.
When I drive to a funeral, I care not for drink ;
That is not the moment to guzzle, but think;
And I wish I could add, both of coachman and master,
That both of us strove to amend a bit faster.
WHO WAS DROWNED IN RICHARD'S MILL-POND.
TUNE" COLLINS'S MULBERRY-TREE.'
QUOTH Richard to Bob, "Let things go as they will,
Of pleasure and fun I will still have my fill;
In frolic and mirth I see nothing amiss,
And, though I get tipsy, what harm is in this?
"For e'en Solomon says,-and I vow he says truth,—
Rejoice, O young man, in the days of thy youth.'
"I'm glad," answered Bob, "you're of Solomon's creed ;
But I beg, if you quote him, you'll please to proceed;
"For God (as the wise man continues to sing)
Thy soul into judgment for all this will bring.'
Thus a man may get plunged in a woful abyss,
By choosing to say, Pray, what harm is in this?"
"Come, come," says gay Richard, "don't grudge me a cup;
I'm resolved, while I'm able, I'll still keep it up;
Let old graybeards deny that in frolic there's bliss,
I'll game, love, and drink-and what harm is in this?"
Says Robert, "I grant, if you live for to-day,
You may game, love, and drink, and may frolic away;
But then, my dear Dick, I again must contend,
That the wise man has bid us-remember the end!"
Says Richard, "When sickness or peevish old age
Shall advance, to dismiss me from life's merry stage,
Repentance just then, boy, may not be amiss,
But while young I'll be jolly—what harm is in this?”
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