Fill the Bumper Fair

 Fill the bumper fair! 
Every drop we sprinkle 
O'er the brow of Care 
Smooths away a wrinkle.
 
Wit's electric flame 
Ne'er so swiftly passes, 
As when through the frame 
It shoots from brimming glasses.
 
Fill the bumper fair! 
Every drop we sprinkle 
O'er the brow of Care 
Smooths away a wrinkle.
 

Sages can, they say, 
Grasp the lightning's pinions, 
And bring down its ray 
From the starr'd dominions: 
So we, Sages, sit, 
And, 'mid bumpers brightening, 
From the Heaven of Wit 
Draw down all its lightning.
 
Fill the bumper, etc.
 

Wouldst thou know what first 
Made our souls inherit 
This ennobling thirst 
For wine's celestial spirit? 
It chanced, upon that day, 
When, as bards inform us, 
Prometheus stole away 
The living fires that warm us: 
Fill the bumper etc.
 

The careless Youth, when up 
To Glory's fount aspiring, 
Took nor urn nor cup 
To hide the pilfer'd fire in.
 -- 
But oh, his joy, when, round 
The halls of heaven spying, 
Among the stars he found, 
The bowl of Bacchus lying! 
Fill the bumper, etc.
 

Some drops were in that bowl, 
Remains of last night's pleasure, 
With which the Sparks of Soul 
Mix'd their burning treasure.
 
Hence the goblet's shower 
Hath such spells to win us; 
Hence its mighty power 
O'er that flame within us.
 
Fill the bumper fair! 
Every drop we sprinkle 
O'er the brow of Care 
Smooths away a wrinkle.

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