Our hearts the gods make light:
Drink, that their joy may never know good-night!
THE TRIBUTE OF KING HATH
Oh, bring to me a cup of gold,
And bring a platter fair,
And summon forth my Captain old,
Who keeps the royal stair.
And fetch a stoup of that rare wine
That hailed my father's fame;
And bear some white bread from the shrine
Built to my mother's name.
Then, good my gentlemen, bring down
My robe of soft samite;
And let the royal horn be blown,
For we ride far to-night.
Within the pleasant Vale of Loe
Beside the Sea of Var,
The Daughter of our ancient foe
Dwells where her people are.
Tribute her fathers paid to mine--
Young prince to elder crown;
But for a jest 'twixt bread and wine,
They struck our banner down.
And we had foes from Blymar Hills,
From Gathan and Dagost,
And pirates from Bagol that spills
Its refuse on our coast.
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