The Arkansaw traveler., 1888-02-18
Written for The ArkdnSow 7rdUeIer.
 A DRINKING SONG.
BY FRED SHELLEY RYMAN.

"There, then, Jove-descended. Hele planned other things. She straightway cast drug into the wine from whence they wer that frees men from grief and froT anger and causes oblivion ofall ills. WhOeve should drink down this when 1t is mixed in cup would not shed a tear down his cheeks fo a whole day, not even if both his mother an father should die, nor If they should slay wit the steel a brother or a beloved son before hiT and he should behold 1t with his eyes. ."-HC mer, OdysSy, IT.
 Bring garlands of fairest flowers,
 Bring wine for each ringing glass, To gladden. the mOurnful hours
 That tonight OCT our spirits pass. Have music, and wine and laughter,
 And all that can come to cheer; Let the ghost of no sad hereafter
 Tonight fill our hearts with fear. We have found in loves lilies growing poison for sense and soul; In the wine cup true joy IS glowing,
 True beauty is in the bowl. Let us hail this the hour that passes,
 Let us laugh at the grief it sears; We hold in our lifted glasses
 A cure for the cares of years. The sovereign of every sorrow
 That touches the thought in life; The source from whence force may borrow New strength to sustain earth's strife. With wine does our life blood jingle What care we for love or lore? We seem with the gods to mingle
 With all that was great of yore. We have felt the full pulse of passion,
 We have met with our own loVe's lips, But new joy through his veins goes dashing Who first of the wine cup SIps. Our hearts for all griefs are ready,
 This life IS a life of lies, But we'll stand to our glasses steady
 And droop for no dream that dies. Wine! thou art the great revealer
 of all that for bliss is born; Thou, thou art the mighty healer
 Of hearts that with grief are torn. Years mar not thy subtle spirit,
 Thy beauty yields not to time; Thou seekest the soul to cheer it
 With thoughts like thy self-sublime. We loved where we thought loves glances Were pure as the dawn of day; We made our first fond advances,
 Were welcomed to come and stay. We met, and our very being
 seemed drawn to that one sweet breast; The soul, though 'tis called Gall seeing" Saw not this sad, subtle jest. We said we would make our pleasure
 In bringing all joy to her; Love, not by ourself we measure
 Twas free as the waters were. As free as the streams that follow
 Their course to the sea to rest, So went we still on to the hollow
 And heartless Hell in her breast. On, on did we go pursuing
 That fatal and false fair face; Twas a deed worth demons doing,
 But we thought her indeed grace. She laughed when it seemed she'd sunken The hopes of our life and heart; But to-day we with wine are drunken,
 We can play, too, the scotler's part. Our souls seem today of iron,
 We are free from the cares of years; We can laugh as she laughed-the sIrenl
 Almost at our very tears.
 We dread not the death that darkles,
 Nor life that lost love makes drear, New life Tn the wine cup sparkles-
 New joy unalloyed by fear "SO "stand to your glasses steady,
 The thoughtless are here, the wise;" Three cheers for "the dead already,
 Iiurrah for the next that desl"