The Works of Capt. Alex. Radcliffe :: :: University of Virginia Library

The Gods and the Goddesses lately did feast,
Where Ambrosia with exquisite Sawces was drest.
The Edibles did with their Qualities suit,
But what they shou'd drink did occasion dispute.
'Twas time that old Nectar shou'd grow out of fashion,
For that they have drank long before the Creation.

When the Sky-coloured Cloth was drawn from the Board,
For the Chrystalline Bowl Great Jove gave the word.
This was a Bowl of most heavenly size,
In which Infant Gods they did use to baptize.

Quoth Jove, We're inform'd they drink Punch upon Earth,
By which mortal Wights do outdo us in mirth.
Therefore our Godheads together let's lay,
And endeavour to make it much stronger than they.
'Twas spoke like a God,—Fill the Bowl to the top,
He's cashier'd from the Skies that leaveth one drop.

Apollo dispatch'd away one of the Lasses,
Who fetch'd him a Pitcher from Well of Parnassus.

To Poets new born this Liquor is brought,
And this they suck in for their first Mornings draught.

Juno for Limons sent into her Closet,
Which when she was sick she infus'd into Posset;
For Goddesses may be as squeamish as Gipsies,
The Sun and the Moon we find have Eclipses.
These Limons were call'd the Hesperian Fruit,
When vigilant Dragon was set to look to't.
Six dozen of these were squeez'd into Water,
The rest of the Ingredients in order come after.

Venus, th' Admirer of things that are sweet,
And without her Infusion there had been no Treat,
Commanded two Sugar-loaves white as her Doves,
Supported to th' Table by a Brace of young Loves.

So wonderful curious these Deities were,
That this Sugar they strain'd through a Sieve of thin Air.

Bacchus gave notice by dangling a Bunch,
That without his Assistance there could be no Punch.
What was meant by his signs was very well known,
So they threw in three Gallons of trusty Langoon.

Mars a blunt God, who car'd not for dis-course,
Was seated at Table still twirling his Whiskers:
Quoth he, Fellow Gods and Celestial Gall-ants,
I'd not give a Fart for your Punch without Nants;
Therefore Boy Ganimede I do command ye,
To fill up the Bowl with a Rundlet of Brandy.

Saturn of all the Gods was the oldest,
And you may imagine his Stomach was coldest,
Did out of his Pouchet three Nutmegs produce,
Which when they were grated were put to the Juice.

Neptune this Ocean of Liquor did crown
With a hard Sea-Bisquet well bak'd by the Sun.

The Bowl being finish'd, a Health was began;
Quoth Jove, Let it be to our Creature call'd Man;
'Tis to him alone these Pleasures we owe,
For Heaven was never true Heaven till now.