Thus, while I quaff the genial wine, I live mid transports quite divine.

My Passion uncontrolled shall rove, Doubly debauched with Wine and Love.

War spares not the brave, but the cowardly.

I both love and do not love; and am mad and not mad.

Let others seek renown in arms; For me wine's wars have greater charms: Then fill the bowl, boy; fill it high: 'Tis better drunk, than dead to lie.

And last of all comes death.

To-day belongs to me, To-morrow who can tell.