IN PRAISE OF DRINK. Jolly mortals, fill your glasses; Look upon the bowl that's flowing, Alexander hated thinking; Drank about at council board; Made friends, and gain'd the world by drinking, More than by his conquering sword. CLARON A. Why does the morn in blushes rise For 'Tis true, 'tis true, she's far more bright, Dim taper god be gone, Let her rule day alone. If anchorite-like full twenty years And woo'd the gods with fasts and prayers Yet after all, could you but love, DORINDA. Her eyes are like the morning bright, Her breasts like water'd lilies white, Her breath's as sweet as odours blown Where'er she breathes, where'er she sings How happy are the groves; How blest! how much more blest than kings, The Shepherd that she loves. With gentle steps let's beat the ground, In gladsome couples join'd; For joy that your Dorinda's found And every lover kind. TO CHARMING CELIA'S ARMS 1 FLEW. TOM BROWN. Died 1704. With alterations and additions by Burns. To charming Celia's arms I flew Lost in sweet tumultuous joy And bless'd beyond expressing, The whole creation's wealth survey, The richest spoils of earth and air, * Burns made the first verse thus: + Pleas'd, The other night with all her charms My ardent passion crowning, Fair Celia sunk within my arms An equal transport owning. ↑ Thro'. Unequal to my pleasure. [Humility's a heavenly grace, And Modesty's sweet maiden face- She blushing cried,-my Life my dear Give her-but tis too much I fear [These alterations and additions of Burns' are taken from part of a letter of his to George Thomson, which is still unpublished. The verse given in a bracket is wholly Burns' and is very characteristic of him. "The Song," the poet writes, "will suit very well to the tune of Nancy's to the Greenwood gone,' you must not expect all your English Songs to have superlative merit, 'tis enough if they are passable!" Brown's works are full of shrewdness and conceit but his little talent was thrown away on indecency. He lies buried in the cloisters of Westminster Abbey.] LIKE MAY IN ALL HER YOUTHFUL DRESS. Like May in all her youthful dress, Thus while th' enjoyment was but young, But as the sun to west declines, The eastern sky does colder grow; While Love was eager, brisk and warm By Virtue, ripened from the bud O sacred virtue, tune my voice, To lasting brightness be refin'd, When this vain shadow flies away, |