A Toast

​I raise my glass to all of you,
Who come to mind this night,
Both kith and kin, and enemies,
Who gather as I write.

For those good friends who wish me well,
I wish you well as well.
You were that loyal band of hearts
Who marched with me through hell.
 
For those who wish me greater ill,
Why waste your breath and prayers?
Let Fortune’s wheel perform her work:
Soon foul follows fair.
 
And to the ones who wish me dead--
By heavens, what a thought!
Such dire hopes return as ghosts,
Best pitch them out to rot!