Bacchanalia or A Description of a Drunken Club. A Poem [by Charles Darby] |
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 | Bacchanalia |  |
One Noble was, yelep'd a Lord, I wis,
Another did a meaner Title take,
A Tinker hight: but all's one, that, or this,
Lyæan-Laws no difference do make.
Cups reconcile Degrees, and Natures too;
He Noblest is, who can in Drink out-do.
No boast of Blood will here allowed be,
But what from tender Grape is prest.
No need of Heraulds, or their Blazonry;
He bears best Coat, who bears his Liquor best.
(Such Passive Valour is in most Request)
No talk of Race, or Pedigree;
For Honour here is a meer sudden thing:
The Garland hops from Brow to Brow,
As more, or less, the moist Atchievements grow,
Who yesterday was Puny, now is Crown'd a King.
Another did a meaner Title take,
A Tinker hight: but all's one, that, or this,
Lyæan-Laws no difference do make.
Cups reconcile Degrees, and Natures too;
He Noblest is, who can in Drink out-do.
No boast of Blood will here allowed be,
But what from tender Grape is prest.
No need of Heraulds, or their Blazonry;
He bears best Coat, who bears his Liquor best.
(Such Passive Valour is in most Request)
No talk of Race, or Pedigree;
For Honour here is a meer sudden thing:
The Garland hops from Brow to Brow,
As more, or less, the moist Atchievements grow,
Who yesterday was Puny, now is Crown'd a King.
| Bacchanalia | |