Blend with the wine the glad refrain,
Our Heliodora's name.
Uplift the cry again, again;
Our toast is still the same.
O dear memorials of the past,
O rapture all too sweet to last.

Bring me the flowers that yester eve
Upon her brow were set;
Look how the roses seem to grieve
With perfumed fragrance wet.
They know that she is far away
Who then upon my bosom lay.