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Calls his mirth void of fancy, his joy insincereWho can recognise Oldham and Rochester here? Or, to leave those choice wits and choice fellows

of yore,

Who willown this the picture of Morris and Moore?

Wine mitigates sorrow, wine stimulates joy! Its virtues ne'er fail, its delights never cloyIt gives strength to the weak, gentle thoughts to

the strong, Renovation to hope, inspiration to song : Age gathers fresh verdure from wonderful wine, And the best bloom of youth, radiant liquor, is

thine ! Thou easest the captive, thou lull’st to repose The sad eye that too long has forgotten to close ; All, all canst thou conquer--ah! wouldst thou

but prove

Victorious for me over absence and love.

HODGSON.

DRINKING SONG.
I CANNOT eat but little meat,

My stomach is not good;
But sure I think that I can drink

With him that wears a hood.
Though I go bare, take ye no care,

I am nothing a cold,
I stuff my skin so full within

Of jolly good ale and old.
Back and side go bare, go bare,

Both foot and hand go cold; But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,

Whether it be new or old.

I have no roast but a nut-brown toast,

And a crab laid in the fire ;
A little bread shall do me stead,

Much bread I not desire.
No frost, no snow, no wind, I trow,

Can hurt me if I wold,
I am so wrapp'd and thoroughly lapp'd

Of jolly good ale and old.
Back and side go bare, &c.

And Tib, my wife, that as her life

Loveth well good ale to seek, Full oft drinks she till ye may see

The tears run down her cheek :
Then doth she troll to me the bowl,

Even as a maltworm should,
And saith, ‘Sweetheart, I took my part

Of this jolly good ale and old.'
Back and side go bare, &c.

Now let them drink till they nod and wink,

Even as good fellows should do ; They shall not miss to have the bliss

Good ale doth bring men to ; And all poor souls that have scour'd bowls,

Or have them lustily trould, God save the lives of them and their wives,

Whether they be young or old.

STILL,

1566.

ANACREONTIC,

FREELY IMITATED FROM THE LATIN OF WALTER

DE MAPES.

I'LL in a tavern end my days mid boon companions merry,

[sherry, Place at my lips a lusty flask replete with sparkling That angels hovering round may cry, when I lie

dead as door nail, Rise, genial deacon, rise and drink of the well

of Life Eternal.'

'Tis wine the fading lamp of life renews with fire celestial,

[terrestrial ; And elevates the raptured sense above this globe Be mine the grape's pure juice unmix'd with any base ingredient,

[no need on't. Water to heretics I leave, sound churchmen have Various implements belong to every occupation; Give me a haunch of venison-and a fig for inspiration!

[indite 'em, Verses and odes without good cheer I never could Sure he who meager days devised is d-d ad in

finitum!

When I exhaust the bowl profound and generous liquor swallow,

[bers follow; Bright as the beverage I imbibe the generous numYour sneaking water drinkers all, I utterly condemn 'em;

[Agamemnon. He that would write like Homer must drink like

Mysteries and prophetic truths, I never could unfold 'em

[ham; Without a flagon of good wine and a slice of cold But when I've drain'd my liquor out, and eat

what's in the dish up, Though I am but an archdeacon, I can preach like an archbishop.

HUDDISFORD,

ANACREONTIC.
If when the sparkling goblet flows,
I braid my temples with the rose,
And while, reflected o'er the brim,
I see the deepening blushes swim,
With wilder ecstacies of soul
I bid the tide of Bacchus roll-
'Tis that the blush that paints the rose,
A type of thee, my fair, bestows;
And bathed within the cup I'd be
That glows with love, and glows of thee.
If, when retiring to repose,
Still in my chamber bloom the rose,
And, twined in many a wreathy string,
O'er all my couch a fragrance fling,
Which, scattering on my fervid breast,
Soothes me with opiate charm to rest-
'Tis that the fragrance of the rose
The breathing of thy lip bestows;
And dreams of bliss it wafts to me,
That breathe of love, and breathe of thee.
Then come, Næëra, sweeter rose !
For whom my restless fancy glows;

Come, whelm in dearer joys the soul
Than ever bathed in flowing bowl;
Come, and in waking kisses deal
Such rapture as my dreams reveal;
And while with mingling soul I sip
The balmy fragrance of thy lip,
More, more than vision'd bliss 'twill be-
To wake for love, and wake for thee.

THELWALL.

A BALLAD OF SIMILES.

If life, like a bubble, evaporates fast,
You must take off your wine if you wish it to last;
For a bubble may soon be destroy'd with a puff,
If it is not kept floating in liquor enough.
If life's like a flower, as grave moralists say,
'Tis a very good thing, understood the right way;
For, if life is a flower, every blockhead can tell,
If you'd have it look fresh, you must water it well:
That life is a journey no mortal disputes, Eboots ;
Then we'll liquor our brains, boys, instead of our
And each toper shall own, on life's road as he reels,
That a spur in the head is worth two on the heels.
If life's like a lamp, then, to make it shine brighter,
We'll assign to Madeira the post of lamplighter,
We'll cherish the flame with Oporto so stout,
And drink brandy-punch till we're fairly burn'd

out.
The world to a theatre liken'd has been,
Where each one around bears his part in the scene;
If ’tis ours to be tipsy, 'tis matter of fact [act.
That the more you all drink, boys, the better you'll

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