Poems and Songs by Thomas Flatman. The Fourth Edition with many Additions and Amendments |
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| II. |
| III. |
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Book III. ODE VIII.
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 | Poems and Songs |  |
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Book III. ODE VIII.
To MÆCENAS.
Learned Mæcenas, wonder not that I,(A Batchelor) invoke that Deity,
Which at this Feast the married rout adore,
And yearly do implore.
They pray the gods to make their burthen light,
And that their yoke-fellows may never fight:
I praise them, not for giving me a Wife,
But saving of my life.
By heav'n redeem'd, I scap'd a falling Tree,
And yearly own that strange delivery,
Yearly rejoyce, and drink the briskest Wine,
Not spill it at their shrine.
Come (my Mæcenas) let us drink, and thus
Cherish that life, those Pow'rs have given us:
A thousand Cups to Midwife this new birth,
With inoffensive mirth,
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Since all are faln that fought victorious Rome.
By Civil broils the Medes, our foes, will fall.
The weakest to the Wall.
Our fierce, and ancient Enemy of Spain
Is now subdu'd, and tamely bears our chain.
The Savage Scythian too begins to yield,
About to quit the field.
Bear they the load of Government that can;
Thou, since a private, and good natur'd man,
Enjoy th' advantage of the present Hour,
For why should'st thou look sour?
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