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But hang such puny sips as these ;
We laid us all along,
With our mouths unto the bung, And tip'd whole hogsheads off with ease.
I heard of a fop that drank whole tankards,
Styl’d himself the prince of sots :
My friend and I did join
For a cellar full of wine,
We drank it all up,
In the morning, at a sup,
My friend to me did make this motion,
Let us to the vintage skip :
Deep laden with wine,
Which was superfine,
We drank it all at sea,
Ere we came unto the key, And the merchant swore he was quite undone.
My friend, not having quench'd his thirst,
Said, let us to the vineyards haste : Straight then we sail'd to the Canaries, Which afforded just a taste ;
From thence unto the Rhine,
Where we drank up all the wine, VOL. II.
'Till Bacchus cried, 'Hold, ye sots, or ye die;'
And swore he never found,
In his universal round,
Out, fie ! cries one, what a beast he makes him !
He can neither stand nor go.
'Tis when we drink the least,
That we drink most like a beast;
'Tis then, and only then,
That we drink the most like men,
The man that is drunk is void of all care,
Undaunted he goes among bullies and whores,
As late I rode out, with my skin full of wine,
* This song is a parody of the twenty-second ode of the second book of Horace.
I boldly confronted a horrible dun,
No monster could put you in half so much fear,
Come place me, ye deities, under the line,
Or place me where sunshine is ne'er to be found,
My tutor may Job me, and lay me down rules ;
'Twas thus Alexander was tutord in vain,
This world is a tavern, with liquor well stor'd,
(From Aurelius Augurellus.*)
BY DR. PARNELL,
Gay Bacchus, liking Estcourt's wine,
A noble meal bespoke us ;
Brought Comus, Love, and Jocus.
The god near Cupid drew his chair,
Near Comus Jocus plac'd ;
And mirth exalts a feast.
The more to please the spritely god,
Each sweet engaging Grace
And took a waiter's place.
Then Cupid nam'd at every glass
A lady of the sky,
And had it bumper high.
Fat Comus toss'd his brimmer o'er,
And always got the most ;
Whene'er he miss’d the toast. * [Augurellus was born at Rimini, and died at Trevisa, early in the sixteenth century, at the age of 83.]
They call’d, and drank at every touch,
Then fill’d and drank again ;
'Tis said, they did so then.
· Free jests run all the table round,
And with the wine conspire (While they by sly reflection wound)
To set their heads on fire.
Gay Bacchus little Cupid stung,
By reck’ning his deceits ; And Cupid mock'd his stamm'ring tongue,
With all his staggʻring gaits.
And Jocus droll’d on Comus’ ways,
And tales without a jest ;
But waggeries at best.
Such talk soon set them all at odds,
And had I Homer's pen;
And how they fought like men.
To part the fray, the Graces fly,
Who made them soon agree ;
They still were three to three.
Bacchus appeas'd, rais'd Cupid up,
And gave him back his bow; But kept some dart to stir the cup,
Where sack and sugar flow.