Part 9 (1/2)

Yet some must swim when others sink, And some must sink when others swim; Make merry, comrades, eat and drink, The lights are growing dim.

I miss the face of one I've loved (The sunlight settles on the sea)-- Long since to distant climes he roved, He had his faults, and so have we; His name was mentioned here this day, And it was coupled with a sneer; I heard, nor had I aught to say, Though once I held his memory dear.

Who cares, 'mid wines and fruits and flowers, Though death or danger compa.s.s him; He had his faults, and we have ours, The lights are growing dim.

I miss the form of one I know (The sunlight wanes upon the sea)-- 'Tis not so very long ago, We drank his health with three-times-three, And we were gay when he was here; And he is gone, and we are gay.

Where has he gone? or far or near?

Good sooth, 'twere somewhat hard to say.

You glance aside, you doubtless think My homily a foolish whim, 'Twill soon be ended, eat and drink, The lights are growing dim.

The fruit is ripe, the wine is red (The sunlight fades upon the sea); To us the absent are the dead, The dead to us must absent be.

We, too, the absent ranks must join; And friends will censure and forget: There's metal base in every coin; Men vanish, leaving traces yet Of evil and of good behind, Since false notes taint the skylark's hymn, And dross still lurks in gold refined-- The lights are growing dim.

We eat and drink or e'er we die (The sunlight flushes on the sea).

Three hundred soldiers feasted high An hour before Thermopylae; Leonidas pour'd out the wine, And shouted ere he drain'd the cup, ”Ho! comrades, let us gaily dine-- This night with Pluto we shall sup”; And if they leant upon a reed, And if their reed was slight and slim, There's something good in Spartan creed-- The lights are growing dim.

Make merry, comrades, eat and drink (The sunlight flashes on the sea); My spirit is rejoiced to think That even as they were so are we; For they, like us, were mortals vain, The slaves to earthly pa.s.sions wild, Who slept with heaps of Persians slain For winding-sheets around them piled.

The dead man's deeds are living still-- My Festive speech is somewhat grim-- Their good obliterates their ill-- The lights are growing dim.

We eat and drink, we come and go (The sunlight dies upon the open sea).

I speak in riddles. Is it so?

My riddles need not mar your glee; For I will neither bid you share My thoughts, nor will I bid you shun, Though I should see in yonder chair Th' Egyptian's m.u.f.fled skeleton.

One toast with me your gla.s.ses fill, Aye, fill them level with the brim, De mortuis, nisi bonum, nil!

The lights are growing dim.

Delilah

[From a Picture]

The sun has gone down, spreading wide on The sky-line one ray of red fire; Prepare the soft cus.h.i.+ons of Sidon, Make ready the rich loom of Tyre.

The day, with its toil and its sorrow, Its shade, and its suns.h.i.+ne, at length Has ended; dost fear for the morrow, Strong man, in the pride of thy strength?

Like fire-flies, heavenward clinging, They multiply, star upon star; And the breeze a low murmur is bringing From the tents of my people afar.

Nay, frown not, I am but a Pagan, Yet little for these things I care; 'Tis the hymn to our deity Dagon That comes with the pleasant night air.

It shall not disturb thee, nor can it; See, closed are the curtains, the lights Gleam down on the cloven pomegranate, Whose thirst-slaking nectar invites; The red wine of Hebron glows brightly In yon goblet--the draught of a king; And through the silk awning steals lightly The sweet song my handmaidens sing.

Dost think that thy G.o.d, in His anger, Will trifle with nature's great laws, And slacken those sinews in languor That battled so well in His cause?

Will He take back that strength He has given, Because to the pleasures of youth Thou yieldest? Nay, G.o.dlike, in heaven, He laughs at such follies, forsooth.

Oh! were I, for good or for evil, As great and as gifted as thou, Neither G.o.d should restrain me, nor devil, To none like a slave would I bow.

If fate must indeed overtake thee, And feebleness come to thy clay, Pause not till thy strength shall forsake thee, Enjoy it the more in thy day.