FILL, fill, the merry bowl,
Drown corrosive care and sorrow,
Why, why clog the soul,
By caring for to-morrow ?
Fill your glasses, toast your lasses,
Blythe Anacreon bids you live ;
Love with friendship far surpasses
All the pleasures life can give.
Chorus.
Ring, ring th' enlivening bell,
The merry dirge of care and sorrow,
Why leave them life to tell
Their heavy tales to-morrow ?
Come, join the social glee,
Give the reins to festive pleasure ;
While fancy, light and free,
Dances to the measure.
Love and wit, with all the graces,
Revel round in fairy ring.
Smiling joy adorns our faces,
While with jocund hearts we sing.
Chorus.
Now, since our cares are drowned,
Spite of what the sages tell us,
Hoary Time, in all his round,
Ne'er saw such happy fellows.
Note by Ramsay.—“Smith says in a manuscript note now before us—,‘Tannahill wrote the above at my particular desire for a favourite air gave him, which I thought would make a good bacchanalian.’ ”
Although the above admission of Smith is the only one that has come to the surface, it is probable he suggested more of these songs; and we are inclined to think that some of the other companions of Tannahill may have directed the attention of the Poet to such subjects.—Ed.
[Semple 149]