One Bumper At Parting.

One bumper at parting!--tho' many         Have circled the board since we met,     The fullest, the saddest of any         Remains to be crowned by us yet.     The sweetness that pleasure hath in it,         Is always so slow to come forth,     That seldom, alas, till the minute         It dies, do we know half its worth.     But come,--may our life's happy measure         Be all of such moments made up;     They're born on the bosom of Pleasure,         They die midst the tears of the cup.     'Tis onward we journey, how pleasant         To pause and inhabit awhile     Those few sunny spots, like the present,         That mid the dull wilderness smile!     But Time, like a pitiless master,         Cries "Onward!" and spurs the gay hours--     Ah, never doth Time travel faster,         Than when his way lies among flowers.     But come--may our life's happy measure         Be all of such moments made up;     They're born on the bosom of Pleasure,         They die midst the tears of the cup.     We saw how the sun looked in sinking,         The waters beneath him how bright;     And now, let our farewell of drinking         Resemble that farewell of light.     You saw how he finished, by darting         His beam o'er a deep billow's brim--     So, fill up, let's shine at our parting,         In full liquid glory, like him.     And oh! may our life's happy measure         Of moments like this be made up,     'Twas born on the bosom of Pleasure,         It dies mid the tears of the cup.