The rites derived from ancient days With thoughtless reverence we praise,
The rites that taught us to
The joys of music and of wine,
And bid the feast, and song and bowlO'erfill the saturated soul:
But ne'er the flute or lyre
To cheer despair or soften pride;
Nor call them to the gloomy
Where Wants repines and Vengeance swells;
Where Hate sits musing to betray,
And murder meditates his prey!
To dens of guilt and shades of care,
Ye sons of melody, repair;
Nor deign the festive dome to
With superfluity of joy,
Ah! little needs the minstrel's
To speed the light convivial hour,
The board with varied plenty
May spare the luxuries of sound.
