A Frolick to W. M. Esq;
Returnd from France,
1
Oh for a Bowle, whose wide capacious fraught
Was never fathom'd by a Poets draught!
To welcome Moyles return, I'de drink it up
Of thanks, the day should be, of grace the cup.
2
I'de court the driery, Sea-gods now to send,
Their Ocean in a frolick while each friend
Of Moyles shall suck it to an Ebb and they
With tears of joy augment it's flow agen.
3
Moyle whom so oft we fancy'd it our bowles
Thy very name reviv'd our duller Souls,
And lent so kind a flavor to the wine,
It relish't good or bad, as th'health was thine.
4
Thou travelst not like those, who only know
To spit at wine, to beat a drawer, or so,
To ruffle Boot-hose-tops, or pleat a Cuff
Or set a Circumcised, Cod-piece off.
5
No, thou art better bred, thou went'st to view
Strang manners lik'st the best, & learnd'st them too.
Our glorious envy, though we cannot tell
How much thou improv'dst thy parts, we know how well
6
Hence at my noble Moyles, return from France
The winds did whistle, to the waves to dance
The sea-nymphs sung, and seem'd to wanton more,
Then when the courtly floods Leander bore
7
But had they known, as I, how fair a shrine
Thou cam'st t'adore (Hero's, being dull to) thine;
Th'ad snatcht thee from her while each rival she
Had in her calme embraces swallow'd thee.
8
Now happy pair! where every mutual kiss,
Informs what pain it is to want that bliss:
The graces guard her! while each muse shall be
Or drunk in fancy, or in Love with thee.
