Classic Poem

Bring me, O bring the enliv'ning draught,
Lenient of grief, and anxious thought!
Then Care retires, asham'd to show
His downcast eye, and faded brow.
I banish bus'ness to the great,
To all that curse, yet covet state.
Death hastes amain; then who would run
To meet what most he strives to shun?
Or antedate the dreadful day
By cares, and aid the fiend to slay?
If tears could bribe his dreadful pow'rs,
I'd weep, and bless the precious show'rs;
But let our lot be joy or woe.
Alike he speeds to strike the blow.
Then crown the bowl!—ye Sorrows, fly
To kill some wretch who wants to die.