Classic Poem

Take my word for it
That the Gods never
Wander alone.
If I happen to come across Bacchus the jolly,
Up runs little Cupid with simpering folly,
And Phaebus I cannot disown.
They come and they come in their heavenly mirth,
And Deities people the mansions of Earth.

How shall I treat them,
Being but mortal,
They from the sky?
Gods, grant me a taste of your being immortal,
But expect no return from this transient portal;
Raise me to Olympus on high!
In Jupiter's halls is true bliss for the soul —
Then fill up the nectar, and pass me the bowl!

Hebe, the goblet!
Fill for the poet;
In with the wine!
With heavenly dew let his eyeballs be blinded,
That so of the Styx he may not be reminded,
But think that he too is divine.
The heavenly fount murmurs glittering by,
Consoling the bosom and clearing the eye.