 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
443
ODE.
I
Come, let us drink away the time,A pox upon this pelting Rhyme!
When Wine's run high, Wit's in the prime.
II
Drink, and stout drinkers are true joys,Odes, Sonnets, and such little toys,
Are exercises fit for Boys.
III
When to our Liquor let us sit,Wine makes the Soul for Action fit,
Who bears most drink, has the most wit.
IV
The whining Lover, that does placeHis wonder in a painted Face,
And wasts his substance in the chace,
444
V
Could not in Melancholy pine,Had he Affections so divine,
As once to fall in love with Wine.
VI
The Gods themselves their revels keep,And in pure Nectar tipple deep,
When slothful Mortals are asleep.
VII
They fudled once, for recreation,In Water, which by all relation,
Did cause Deucalions Inundation.
VIII
The spangled Globe, as it held most,Their Bowl, was with Salt-water dos't,
The Sun-burnt Centre was the Toast.
IX
In drink, Apollo always choseHis darkest Oracles to disclose,
'Twas Wine gave him his Ruby-Nose.
445
X
The Gods then let us imitate,Secure of Fortune, and of Fate,
Wine Wit, and Courage does create.
XI
Who dares not drink's a wretched Wight;Nor can I think that Man dares fight
All day, that dares not drink all night.
XII
Fill up the Goblet, let it swimIn foam, that overlooks the brim,
He that drinks deepest, here's to him.
XIII
Sobriety, and Study breedsSuspition of our Thoughts, and Deeds;
The down-right Drunkard no Man heeds.
XIV
Let me have Sack, Tobacco store,A Drunken Friend, a Little Wh***re,
Protector, I will ask no more.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |