Now come thou forth! thou crystal goblet clear, From out thy worshipful old case, Where thou hast lain unused this many a year. In days of yore right gayly didst thou grace The festive meetings of my grey-beard sires, When passed from hand to hand the draught that glee inspires. Thy goodly round, the figures there Pictured with skill so quaint and rare, Each lusty drinker's duty to declare In ready rhyme what meaning they might bear, And at one draught to drain the brimming cup,-- All this recalls full many a youthful night. Now to no comrade shall I yield thee up, Nor whet my wit upon thy pictures bright; Here is a juice intoxicates the soul Quickly. With dark brown flood it crowns the bowl. Let this last draught, my mingling and my choice, With blithesome heart be quaffed, and joyful voice, A solemn greeting to the rising morn! [_A sound of bells is heard, and distant quire-singing._ Quire of Angels. Christ is arisen! Joy be to mortal man, Whom, since the world began, Evils inherited, By his sins merited, Through his veins creeping, Sin-bound are keeping. Faust. What sweet soft peals, what notes, so clear and pure, Draw from my lips the glass perforce away? Thus early do the bells their homage pay, Of holy hymning to new Easter day! Already sing the quires the soothing song That erst, round the dark grave, an angel throng Sang, to proclaim the great salvation sure! Quire of Women. With spices and balsams All sweetly we bathed Him; With cloths of fine linen All cleanly we swathed Him; In the tomb of the rock, where His body was lain, We come, and we seek Our loved Master, in vain! Quire of Angels. Christ is arisen! Praised be His name! Whose love shared with sinners Their sorrow and shame; Who bore the hard trial Of self-denial, And, victorious, ascends to the skies whence He came.