Now sounded a general "good-night," and every one hastened home. Hoffmann reached his chamber, which filled him with that feeling of desolation, so often felt in places which a moment before were all alive with the presence of those we love. But the delightful consciousness of having enjoyed an evening to the uttermost, the still more delightful consciousness of having afforded such an one to his friends, absorbed all other thoughts. He called to mind again the good wishes of his friends, and his last thoughts in the night were, "May God, if he denies me every thing else, never, to my life's end, deprive me of the sense which renders me capable of enjoying worthily such delightful hours." DRINKING SONG. Ye brothers, when no more I'm drinking, But faint with gout and palsy lie, Exhausted on the sick bed sinking, Believe it then, my end is nigh. And die I this day or to-morrow, My testament's already made; My funeral from your care I'll borrow, But without splendour or parade. And as for coffin, that remanding, A Rhenish cask for it shall pass; Instead of lemon placed each hand in, Give me a brimfull Deckel-glass. Into the cellar then convey me, Where I have drunk whole hogsheads dry; With head unto the tap then lay me, My feet towards the wall may lie. And when you're to the grave me bringing, As follow all then, man by man; For God's sake let no bell be ringing, And clinking glasses be your plan. Upon my gravestone be inscribed, This man was born, grew, drank, and died,-- And now he rests where he imbibed In lifelong joy, the purple tide. * * * THE POPE. A lordly life the Pope doth hold, He lives on absolution gold; The best of wines still drinketh he; The Pope, the Pope I fain would be. But no! 'tis but a wretched lot, A German maiden loves him not. Alone in his great house lives he-- The Pope, the Pope, I would not be. The Sultan lives full blithe and crowse, He liveth in a golden house, With lovely ladies liveth he-- The Sultan then I fain would be. But no! he is a wretched man, He liveth by the Alcoran. No drop of wine may drink--not he; The Sultan then I will not be. Their separate fortunes, howe'er fine, I'd wish not, for one moment, mine, But would to this right glad agree, Now Pope, now Sultanus to be.