You drown with water every cup
And, though your comrades press you,
The feeble draught you hardly sup!
What madness can possess you?

Had Naevia sworn to crown your bliss
To-night, we had excused you;
But since you groan and sigh, by this
We know she has refused you.

Then quaff a cup of fourfold size
And others let us pour you;
To drown your sorrow must be wise,
If only sleep's before you.