LET us wreathe the mighty cup.
Then with song we'll lift it up,
And, before we drain the glow
Of the juice that foams below
Flowers and cool leaves round the brim.
Let us swell the praise of him
Who is tyrant of the heart,
Cupid with his flaming dart !
Pride before his face is bowed,
Strength and heedless beauty cowed ;
Underneath his fatal wings
Bend discrowned the heads of kings ;
Maidens blanch beneath his eye
And its laughing mastery ;
Through each land his arrows sound,
By his fetters all are bound.