The dainty-fed Dame, in unpinn'd dishabille, While soft broken murmurs betray her delight, Lady Luna down looking, the luscious scene sees, Withdrew her beams, blushing, from silver-topp'd trees; In a cloud veils her face, crying out, fie for shame! To Endymion drives off, and with him does the same. 'Tis Hypocrisy's Humour, the Ton of the Times, Reason ne'er had the Head-ach, no Toasts he'll approve; Reason ne'er had the Heart-ach-he ne'er was in But poor honest Instinct, he's always to blame, same. My Country! my Country! that Phrase cannot fail; i 'Tis the Bait Voters bite at, the Tub for the Whale; Distinction, on each side, is only a name; For this side, and that side, both sides do the same. Let us, without blaming or this side or that, Your sentiment, Decency, give it to me, The Quaker's Address, Friend, I drink unto thee. So here's to't and to thee; and pray who's to blame? Why him-can you find him? who won't do the same. LOVE AND WINE's PARTNERSHIP. TUNE. "No more let us trouble our Heads 'bout the State." T was as one morning on Ida Jove shone, They abandon my Temples and Shrine, Sir, That Sot and his Sots, have extinguish'd my Blaze, And drown'd Beauty's Altars in Wine, Śir, By Styx, but 'tis false, jolly Bacchus reply'd The Heart they mislead, and they madden the Mind; 'Tis Wine which alone can withstand 'em. Where is it? th' Olympical Grand called out, Mistaken, Papa ?-Miss pray hold your tongue, Go Mercury, summon the States of the Sky. Their Worships went first on the Cyprian Cause, What licking of lips, what hums, and what hahs! Tipp'd Hermes the wink, and they bumper'd the 'Till the Court only chorus'd a Hickup. With eye-lids half-clos'd, one attempted at Speech, My Opin--nin--nin--nin-but bump on his Breech For that Day, being Juno's Physician, Smelt Cane, strok'd his Chin, us'd hard words, and look'd big, A's became his Right Worship's Condition. The Statutes, quoth he, the Statutes at Large, For Folly has friends, and too many we know- Now Bacchus and Venus agreed 'twixt themselves Altercation hereafter to smother; At Dulness to laugh, tho' 'mong dignify'd Elves, But now mind the Moral: 'Tis clever to think, Since Wine makes us Love, and since Love makes us drink. Here's Drinking and Loving for ever. COURTSHIP. TUNE. "To all ye Ladies now at Land." L - ET others sing of Flames and Darts, If you are willing, I'm so too, If not-why there's no more to do. With fa, la, la. Shou'd you expect, in Sorrow's guise, Such maudlin Mumm'ry I despise, Mine is no Lovesick Case "Tis but my Whim, e'en make it thine, Then Whim to Whim, and your's to mine. Or if you think in golden rain, You've something which I wou'd be at, Your Taste, your Talk, I may admire, Well kens the Lass what I wou'd win, And well I ken the Road; He that is out wou'd fain be in. A Patriot A-la-mode, As you're my Sov'reign grant me Grace, Least said, they say, is mended soon, With you I'll not dispute; Ill tastes the long requested Boon 'Tis sweet, when short's the suit. Then grant, with Grace, the Grace I sue, Or let me, without Grace, fall to. A With fa, la, la. |