Sweet Iser! were thy sunny realm
And flowing fountains mine
My waters I would shade with elm
To prop the tender bine
My golden flagons I would fill
With rosy draughts from every hill
And underneath green spreading bower
My gay companions should prolong
The feast! the revel! and the song!
To many a sportive hour.
Like rivers, crimson’d by the beam
Of yonder planet bright
Our nectar cups should ever stream
Profusion of delight
No care should touch the mellow heart
And sad, or sober, none depart
For wine can triumph over woe
And Love & Bacchus brother powers
Should build in Iser’s sunny bowers
A paradise below.