 | Bacchanalia |  |
At length the Storm blows o're; the Sky grows clear,
Clouds are dispel'd, and foggs, and fumes,
And Madam Dianoia now resumes
Her Throne; when nimble Drawer mounts the stair,
And guessing, by this time, these Heroes were
In Reckoning-case; produceth, sans delay,
A Bill more swel'd, and more inflam'd, than they.
Gigantick Items! yet evicted
Nothing could be, nor contradicted,
By any of the Company:
Because 'twas all beyond Man's Memory.
Since then Objection was fruitless,
Solution must be the business.
All pockets (but ev'n now well lin'd) were swept,
Not one Cross, for a Neast-egg, kept.
Tokens, and single pence, must go,
Jacobusses, and Medals too;
And all too little to discharge the score,
But forc't to sign a Bill for as much more.
And thus the Poets Fiction came to pass,
That Bacchus Conquered the golden India's
Clouds are dispel'd, and foggs, and fumes,
And Madam Dianoia now resumes
Her Throne; when nimble Drawer mounts the stair,
And guessing, by this time, these Heroes were
In Reckoning-case; produceth, sans delay,
A Bill more swel'd, and more inflam'd, than they.
Gigantick Items! yet evicted
Nothing could be, nor contradicted,
By any of the Company:
Because 'twas all beyond Man's Memory.
Since then Objection was fruitless,
Solution must be the business.
All pockets (but ev'n now well lin'd) were swept,
Not one Cross, for a Neast-egg, kept.
Tokens, and single pence, must go,
Jacobusses, and Medals too;
And all too little to discharge the score,
But forc't to sign a Bill for as much more.
And thus the Poets Fiction came to pass,
That Bacchus Conquered the golden India's
| Bacchanalia | |