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I have no roast but a nut-brown toast,
And a crab laid in the fire ;
Much bread I not desire.
Can hurt me if I wold,
Of jolly good ale and old.
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 :
Even as a maltworm should,
Of this jolly good ale and old.'
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 troul'd, God save the lives of them and their wives, Whether they be young or old.
FREELY IMITATED FROM THE LATIN OF WALTER
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
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
Come, whelm in dearer joys the soul
A BALLAD OF SIMILES.
If life, like a bubble, evaporates fast,
Life fleets like a dream, like a vision appears, Some laugh in their slumbers, and others shed tears ;
[be said, But of us, when we wake from our dream, 'twill That the tears of the tankard were all that we shed,
dum serta, unguenta, poella
SHORT is the breath of life, and short
The fleeting joys that life can give; Those fleeting joys let wisdom court
While feeling yet and passion live. Soon freezing age, with sick distaste,
The grave of bliss, the nurse of woe, Shall steal the wreath which Nature placed
On joyous youth's exulting brow. While yet the swelling goblet flows,
And sorrow yields to revel's power, While blossoms yet the breathing rose,
And laughter speeds the jovial hour; While yet in ardent youth we fly,
Pregnant of life and hope, to sip Nectareous dew, entrancing joy!
From blushing Beauty's rosy lip; Their sudden shafts the fates dispense,
And wither all the beauteous dream, Or tasteless age steeps every sense
In apathy's oblivious stream.