Nay, tell me not, dear, that the goblet drowns br One charm of feeling, one fond regret; br Believe me, a few of thy angry frowns br Are all I've sunk in its bright wave yet. br Ne'er hath a beam br Been lost in the stream br That ever was shed from thy form or soul; br The spell of those eyes, br The balm of thy sighs, br Still float on the surface, and hallow by bowl. br Then fancy not, dearest, that wine can steal br One blissful dream of the heart from me; br Like founts that awaken the pilgrim's zeal, br The bowl but brightens my love for thee. br br They tell us the Love in his fairy bower br Had two blush-roses, of birth divine; br He sprinkled the one with a rainbow's shower, br But bathed the other with mantling wine. br Soon did the buds br That drunk of the floods br Distill'd by the rainbow decline and fade; br While those which the tide br Of ruby had dyed br All blush'd into beauty, like thee, sweet maid! br Then fancy not, dearest, that wine can steal br One blissful dream of the heart from me; br Like founts that awaken the pilgrim's zeal, br The bowl but brightens my love for thee.