St. Leon raised his kindling eye,
And lifts the sparkling cup on high;
"I drink to one," read more

St. Leon raised his kindling eye,
And lifts the sparkling cup on high;
"I drink to one," he said,
"Whose image never may depart,
Deep graven on this grateful heart,
Till memory be dead."
. . . .
St. Leon paused, as if he would
Not breathe her name in careless mood
Thus lightly to another;
Then bent his noble head, as though
To give the word the reverence due,
And gently said, "My mother!"

Here's a health to all those that we love,
Here's a health to all those that love us,
read more

Here's a health to all those that we love,
Here's a health to all those that love us,
Here's a health to all those that love them that love those
That love them that love those that love us.

There's a health to poverty; it sticks by us when all friends
forsake us.

There's a health to poverty; it sticks by us when all friends
forsake us.

I, whenever I see thee, thirst, and holding the cup, apply it to
my lips more for thy sake read more

I, whenever I see thee, thirst, and holding the cup, apply it to
my lips more for thy sake than for drinking.

Here's to our beloved George Washington, the Joshua of America,
who commanded the sun and the moon to sand read more

Here's to our beloved George Washington, the Joshua of America,
who commanded the sun and the moon to sand still--and they
obeyed.

L'Abbe de Ville proposed a toast,
His master, as the rising Sun:
Reisbach then gave the Empress read more

L'Abbe de Ville proposed a toast,
His master, as the rising Sun:
Reisbach then gave the Empress Queen,
As the bright moon and much praise won.
The Earl of Stair, whose turn next came,
Gave for his toast his own King Will,
As Joshua the sun of Nun,
Who made both Sun and Moon stand still.

Give me the cups,
And let the kettle to the trumpet speak,
The trumpet to the cannoneer read more

Give me the cups,
And let the kettle to the trumpet speak,
The trumpet to the cannoneer without,
The cannons to the heavens, the heaven to earth,
'Now the king drinks to Hamlet.'

I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet,
Wi' a' the honours three.

I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet,
Wi' a' the honours three.

The thirst that from the soul doth rise,
Doth ask a drink divine;
But might I of read more

The thirst that from the soul doth rise,
Doth ask a drink divine;
But might I of Jove's nectar sup,
I would not change for thine.