Now Neptune's month our sky deforms,

The angry night-cloud teems with storms;

And savage winds, infuriate driven,

Fly howling in the face of heaven!

Now, now, my friends, the gathering gloom

With roseate rays of wine illume:

And while our wreaths of parsley spread

Their fadeless foliage round our head,

Let's hymn the almighty power of wine,

And shed libations on his shrine!