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Such fuits which the clients
Do wear out in flavery,
Whilft pleader makes confcience
A cloak for his knavery,
May boast of his fubtilety
In the present tenfe,
But Non eft inventus

An hundred years hence.

Then why fhould we turmoil
In cares and in fears,
Turn all our tranquility

To fighs and to tears?
Let's eat, drink, and play,
Till the worms do corrupt us,
'Tis certain, poft mortem
Nulla voluptas.

Let's deal with our damfels,

That we may from thence,

Have broods to fucceed us

An hundred years hence.

SONG XVII.

JOLLY mortals, fill your glasses,

Noble deeds are done by wine;

Scorn the nymph and all her graces,
Who'd for love or beauty pine.

Look within the bowl that's flowing,
And a thousand charms you'll find,
More than in Phillis, though juft going,
In the moment to be kind.

O.

Alexander

Alexander hated thinking,

Drank about at council board;
He fubdu'd the world by drinking,
More than by his conquering fword.

A

SONG XVIII.

S fwift as time put round the glass, And husband well lifes little space; Perhaps your fun, which shines fo bright, May set in everlasting night.

Or, if the fun again fhould rife,

Death, ere the morn, may close your eyes;

Then drink, before it be too late,

And snatch the present hour from fate.

Come, fill a bumper, fill it round;
Let mirth, and wit, and wine abound;
In these alone true wisdom lies,
For, to be merry's to be wife.

SONG XIX.*

USY, curious, thirty Fly,

Drink with me, and drink as I;

Freely welcome to my cup,

Could't thou fip and fip it up.

Make the most of life you may,

Life is fhort, and wears away.

"Made extempore by a Gentleman, occafion'd by a Fly drinking out of his Cup of Ale."

VOL. II.

C

Both

Both alike are mine and thine,

Haftening quick to their decline:

Thine's a fummer, mine no more,
Though repeated to threefcore;

Threefcore fummers, when they're gone,
Will appear as short as one.

SONG XX.

ANACREON

ON HIMSELF.

BY THE REV. MR. FAWKE S.

7HEN I drain the rofy bowl,

Joy exhilarates my foul;

To the Nine I raise my song,
Ever fair and ever young.
When full cups my cares expell,
Sober counfels then farewell;

Let the winds, that murmur, fweep
All my forrows to the deep.

When I drink dull time away,
Jolly Bacchus, ever gay,
Leads me to delightful bowers,
Full of fragrance, full of flowers.
When I quaff the fparkling wine,
And my locks with rofes twine,
Then I praife lifes rural scene,
Sweet, fequefter'd, and ferene.

When I fink the bowl profound,
Richeft fragrar ce flowing round,
And fome lovely nymph detain,
Venus then infpires the ftrain,

When

When from goblets deep and wide,
I exhaust the generous tide,

All my foul unbends-I play,
Gamefome with the young and gay.

SONG XXI.

ORTALS, learn your lives to meafure,

M Not by length of time, but pleasure;

Now the hours invite, comply;

Whilst you idly paufe, they fly:
Bleft, a nimble pace they keep;
But in torment, then they creep.

Mortals learn your lives to measure,
Not by length of time, but pleasure ;
Soon your spring must have a fall;
Loofing youth, is lofing all:

Then you'll ask, but none will give y
And may linger, but not live.

SONG XXII.

LD Chiron thus preach'd to his pupil Achilles :

You, my boy,

Muft go

(The gods will have it fo)

To the fiege of Troy ;

Thence never to return to Greece again,

But before those walls to be flain,

C 2

will iss

Ne'er

Ne'er let your noble courage be caft down;
But, all the while you lie before the town,
Drink, and drive care away, drink and be merry;
You'll ne'er go the fooner to the Stygian ferry.

O.

L

SONG XXIII.

ET's be jovial, fill our glaffes,

Madness 'tis for us to think
How the world is rul'd by affes,
And the wife are sway'd by chink.

Then never let vain cares opprefs us ;
Riches are to them a fnare;

We're ev'ry one as rich as Crœfus,
While our bottle drowns our care.

Wine will make us red as roses,

And our forrows quite forget;
Come let's fuddle all our noses,
Drink ourselves quite out of debt.

When grim Death comes looking for us,
We are toping off our bowls;
Bacchus joining in the chorus,

Death, begone, here's none but fouls.

Godlike Bacchus thus commanding,
Trembling Death away fhall fly;

Ever after understanding,

Drinking fouls can never die.

SONG

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