File:Death's doings- consisting of numerous original compositions, in verse and prose, the friendly contributions of various writers; principally intended as illustrations of thirty copperplates (1828) (14748059365).jpg

Identifier: deathsdoingscons02dag (find matches)
Title: Death's doings: consisting of numerous original compositions, in verse and prose, the friendly contributions of various writers; principally intended as illustrations of thirty copperplates
Year: 1828 (1820s)
Authors: Dagley, Richard, d. 1841
Subjects: Death
Publisher: Boston : C. Ewer
Contributing Library: University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign
Digitizing Sponsor: University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign

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are,—It inspires us to love and to cherish the Fair, And warms een the Anchorets breast.R 2 244 deaths doings. The sons of gay Bacchus their nectar here quaflf— And Sorrow, that thirsty old soul/With the children of Momus, delighted, will laugh.And swear that he neer was so happy by halfAs when up to his chin in the bowl. Wine, wine is the balm that assuages our pains ; Come, fill—and the glasses push round ;It cherishes love—so, take courage, ye swains.And drink while a drop of the cordial remains— For without it no bliss can be found. Grim Death for a while shall his dart lay aside. And even old Time shall stand still.While mortals, enjoying the rich rosy tide,Shall laugh at dull Care,—and, with true civicpride. Of wine, like the gods, take their fill. Oh, haste to the Shades, then, where wine-bibbersmeet. Oh, haste to that favrite resort.Where, in wet or dry weather, in cold or in heat.All care is forgot in a snug elbow seat. When of port you have drank a full quart. M.
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TME WAIRIRIOR,. 245 DEATH AND THE WARRIOR. Aye, warrior, arm! and wear thy plume On a proud and fearless brow!I am the lord of the lonely tomb, And a mightier one than thou ! ** Bid thy souls love farewell, young chief! Bid her a long farewell!Like the mornings dew shall pass that grief— Thou comest with me to dwell! Thy bark may rush through the foaming deep. Thy steed oer the breezy hill;But they bear thee on to a place of sleep. Narrow, and cold, and still! Was the voice I heard thy voice, O Death ? And is thy day so near \Then on the field shall my lifes last breath Mingle with Victorys cheer! 24G deaths doings. Banners shall float, with the trumpets note, Above me as I die.And the palm-tree wave oer my noble grave. Under the Syrian sky. High hearts shall burn in the royal hall.When the minstrel names that spot; And the eyes I love shall weep my fall—Death ! Death ! I fear thee not. ** Warrior! thou bearest a haughty heart. But I can bend its pride !How shouldst thou know that

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