Classic Poem

One glass — 'tis not the first — we'll drink;
Of this and that we'll freely think,
Of grand and stirring scenes.

We'll think of forests dark and drear
Where raves the roaring blast,
The hunter's ringing horn we hear
As horse and hound go past.

The stag doth through the torrent go
While floods around him brawl,
We hear the huntsman's wild hallo
And shots, fast pattering, fall.

One glass — 'tis not the first — we'll drink;
Of this and that we'll freely think,
Of grand and stirring scenes.

Next think we of the sea's wild dash,
We hear the boisterous waves;
O'erhead the rolling thunders crash,
The whirlwind howls and raves.
Mark! how the vessel groans and reels,
How masts and timbers break!
The minute-gun full sadly peals,
And sailors curse and quake.

One glass — 'tis not the first — we'll drink;
Of this and that we'll freely think,
Of grand and stirring scenes.

Next think we of the battle-field,
Where Germans join the fray;
The broad swords clash, the lances yield,
The mettled chargers neigh.
To roll of drum and trumpet's blare
The storming hosts rush on,
The deafening cannon rends the air,
And wall and tower are gone!

One glass — 'tis not the first — we'll drink;
Of this and that we'll freely think,
Of grand and stirring scenes.

Next think we of the Judgment-day,
We hear the trumpet's call,
With thunderous sound the graves obey,
Stars shoot from heav'n and fall.
There roars the pit of hell and night
With seas of surging fire;
And there aloft in golden light
Is heard the heavenly choir.

One glass — 'tis not the first — we'll drink;
Of this and that we'll freely think,
Of grand and stirring scenes.

And when we've thought of chase and wood,
Of storms and tossing spray,
Of German warriors stout and good,
And of the Judgment-day;
Then think we of ourselves awhile
How boisterously we sing
And how we jest, and cheer, and smile,
And how the glasses ring!