Though Humble the Banquet - Eleanor McEvoy

Though humble the banquet to which I invite thee

Thou’lt find there the best a poor bard can command;

Eyes, beaming with welcome, shall throng round, to light thee

And Love serve the feast with her own willing hand

Though Fortune may seem to have turn’d from the dwelling

Of her thou regardest her favouring ray

Thou wilt find there a gift, all her treasures excelling

Which, proudly she feels, hath ennobled her way

It’s that freedom of mind, which no vulgar dominion

Can turn from the path a pure conscience approves

Which, with hope in the heart, and no chain on the pinion

Holds upwards its course to the light which it loves

'Tis this makes the pride of her humble retreat

And with this, though of all other treasures bereaved

The breeze of her garden to her is more sweet

Than the costliest incense that Pomp e’er received

Then, come, if a board so untempting hath power

To win thee from grandeur, its best shall be thine;

And there’s one, long the light of the bard’s happy bower

Who, smiling will blend his bright welcome with mine

Though humble the banquet to which I invite thee

Thou’lt find there the best a poor bard can command;

Eyes, beaming with welcome, shall throng round, to light thee

And Love serve the feast with her own willing hand

And Love serve the feast with her own willing hand

Oh, Love serve the feast with her own willing hand