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Adam Lindsay Gordon - Sunlight On The Sea
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Sunlight On The Sea
[The Philosophy of a Feast]


Make merry, comrades, eat and drink
 (The sunlight flickers on the sea),
The garlands gleam, the glasses clink,
 The grape juice mantles fair and free,
The lamps are trimm`d, although the light
 Of day still lingers on the sky;
We sit between the day and night,
 And push the wine flask merrily.
I see you feasting round me still,
 All gay of heart and strong of limb;
Make merry, friends, your glasses fill,
 The lights are growing dim.

I miss the voice of one I`ve heard
 (The sunlight sinks upon the sea),
He sang as blythe as any bird,
 And shook the rafters with his glee;
But times have changed with him, I wot,
 By fickle fortune cross`d and flung;
Far stouter heart than mine he`s got
 If now he sings as then he sung.
Yet some must swim when others sink,
 And some must sink when others swim;
Make merry, comrades, eat and drink,
 The lights are growing dim.

I miss the face of one I`ve loved
 (The sunlight settles on the sea) —
Long since to distant climes he roved,
 He had his faults, and so have we;
His name was mentioned here this day,
 And it was coupled with a sneer;
I heard, nor had I aught to say,
 Though once I held his memory dear.
Who cares, `mid wines and fruits and flowers,
 Though death or danger compass him;
He had his faults, and we have ours,
 The lights are growing dim.

I miss the form of one I know
 (The sunlight wanes upon the sea) —
`Tis not so very long ago,
 We drank his health with three-times-three,
And we were gay when he was here;
 And he is gone, and we are gay.
Where has he gone? or far or near?
 Good sooth, `twere somewhat hard to say.
You glance aside, you doubtless think
 My homily a foolish whim,
`Twill soon be ended, eat and drink,
 The lights are growing dim.

The fruit is ripe, the wine is red
 (The sunlight fades upon the sea);
To us the absent are the dead,
 The dead to us must absent be.
We, too, the absent ranks must join;
 And friends will censure and forget:
There`s metal base in every coin;
 Men vanish, leaving traces yet
Of evil and of good behind,
 Since false notes taint the skylark`s hymn,
And dross still lurks in gold refined —
 The lights are growing dim.

We eat and drink or e`er we die
 (The sunlight flushes on the sea).
Three hundred soldiers feasted high
 An hour before Thermopylae;
Leonidas pour`d out the wine,
 And shouted ere he drain`d the cup,
"Ho! comrades, let us gaily dine —
 This night with Pluto we shall sup";
And if they leant upon a reed,
 And if their reed was slight and slim,
There`s something good in Spartan creed —
 The lights are growing dim.

Make merry, comrades, eat and drink
 (The sunlight flashes on the sea);
My spirit is rejoiced to think
 That even as they were so are we;
For they, like us, were mortals vain,
 The slaves to earthly passions wild,
Who slept with heaps of Persians slain
 For winding-sheets around them piled.
The dead man`s deeds are living still —
 My Festive speech is somewhat grim —
Their good obliterates their ill —
 The lights are growing dim.

We eat and drink, we come and go
 (The sunlight dies upon the open sea).
I speak in riddles.  Is it so?
 My riddles need not mar your glee;
For I will neither bid you share
 My thoughts, nor will I bid you shun,
Though I should see in yonder chair
 Th` Egyptian`s muffled skeleton.
One toast with me your glasses fill,
 Aye, fill them level with the brim,
De mortuis, nisi bonum, nil!
 The lights are growing dim.
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