The son he wants old square-toes gone,

And miss is mad to wed ;

The doctor wants you to be sick,

The undertaker dead :

All have their wants, from pole to pole,

I want an ever-flowing bowl.

SONG LXVII.

In the social amusements of life let me live,
Prove ev'ry delight, love and friendship can give,
Where easy good-nature gives converse a zest,
Where sense in the light robe of humour is drest ;
Where harmony, beauty, and reason combine,
Our souls to improve, and our senses refine.

At the festival board, where my Phoebe can share
The jest which her pureness unsullied may hear,
Unblushing enjoy, unrepining approve,
While Damon toasts freely to friendship and love;
While harmony, beauty, and reason combine,
Our souls to improve, and our senses refine.

Time was meant for a blessing, not dealt as a curse,
The troubles of life are by pining made worse;
The sullen recluse may disrelish my plan,

But I'll live, and I'll love, and I'll laugh while I can ;
While harmony, beauty, and reason combine,

Our souls to improve, and our senses refine.

SONG LXVIII.

LET the waiter bring clean glasses,

With a fresh supply of wine
For I see by all your faces,
In my wishes you will join.

e;

It is not the charms of beauty,
Which I purpose to proclaim;
We a while will leave that duty,
For a more prevailing theme.

To the health I'm now proposing, Let's have one full glass at least ; No one here can think't imposing'Tis the founder of the feast!

SONG LXIX.

BY DR. GRANT.

CARE, thou canker of our joys,
Now thy tyrant reign is o'er;
Fill the mystic bowl, my boys,
Join the bacchanalian roar.

Seize the villain, plunge him in, See the hated miscreant dies :Mirth and all thy train come in,

Banish sorrow, tears, and sighs.

O'er our merry midnight bowls,
O! how happy shall we be ;
Day was made for vulgar souls,
Night, my boys, for you and me.

SONG LXX.

LET care be a stranger to each jovial soul
Who Aristippus-like can his passions controul,
Of wisest philosophers, wisest was he

Who attentive to ease, let his mind still be free;
The prince, peer, or peasant, to him were the same,
For pleas'd he was pleasing wherever he came ;
But still turn'd his back on contention and strife,
Resolving to live all the days of his life.

A friend to mankind, all mankind was his friend,
And the peace of his mind was his ultimate end;
He found fault with none, if none found fault with him,
If his friend had a humour, he humour'd his whim;
If wine was the word, why he bumper'd his glass;
If love was the topic, he toasted his lass;

But still, &c.

If councils disputed, if councils agreed,

He found fault with neither, for this was his creed, That let them be guided by folly or sense,

'Twou'd be semper eadem an hundred years hence; He thought it unsocial to be malcontent,

If the tide went with him, with the tide too he went ; But still, &c.

Then let us all follow Aristippus' rules,

And deem his opponents both asses and mules
Let those not contented to lead or to drive,
By the bees of their sect be drove out of their hive;
Expell'd from the mansions of quiet and ease,

May they never find out the blest art how to please ; While our friends and ourselves, not forgetting our wives,

By these maxims may live all the days of our lives.

SONG LXXI.

Written for a convivial Meeting, formed by a Party of select young Friends.

YE free-hearted sons of good-humour and mirth !
Disciples of concord, that never can cloy !

O say, to what sage of convivial worth

Shall we tune the gay tribute of juvenile joy?
Say, shall we not raise

The chorus of praise

To him who determin'd to live all his days;
Who boasted the pleasure all others to please,
Renown'd Aristippus!—the patron of ease.

Like him let us banish that misanthrope Care,
May amity's pow'r to expel him combine;
Or hence let Silenus the vagabond bear,

And fetter him down to the root of the vine:
There, there let him rot,
Unpitied his lot,

By the sons of festivity scorn'd and forgot :
Whilst we, here uniting our efforts to please,
May rival the patron of freedom and ease

That our vigils may long in good fellowship glide,
Far hence be the orgies of riotous glee;

O'er the councils of mirth let discretion preside,
And the impulse of nature wait reason's decree :
Then harmony's pow'r

Shall welcome the hour

We duly devote to her favourite bow'r ;
And still, as time ripens each effort to please,
Sing praise to the patron of freedom and ease.

Fill, fill then each glass 'till it mantles with fire, 'Tis the juice of the grape that stamps truth on the breast;

So here's to the health of the maid we admire-

Was it drank e'en in nectar, 'twould give it a zest.
Your glasses once more
Uncharg'd:-as before,

The rosy libations of friendship restore;

And thus while we mingle our efforts to please,
Let's toast Aristippus-the patron of ease!