So, the powder ’s low, and the larder ’s clean,
  And surrender drapes, with its blacks impending,
All the stage for a sorry and sullen scene:
  Yet indulge me my whim of a madcap ending!

Let us once more fill, ere the final chill,
  Every vein with the glow of the rich canary!
Since the sweet hot liquor of life ’s to spill,
  Of the...