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The large Nose and long one, thereby hangs a Tale,

A Tail the old Scholiasts suppose;
Ex noscitur Naso-but Proverbs may fail,

I find it, in faith, by my Nose.

The boys of Conceit blushing Merit deride,

For Coxcombs are Modesty's foes ;
I challenge the sons and the daughters of Pride

To move such a muscular Nose.

Prometheus, 'tis said, form’d our Animal Clay,

For quick’ning to Æther he rose;
I fear that some 'Prentice, when he was away,

A little aside shov'd my Nose.

I presume,—but perhaps, 'tis presumption to say,

I even presume to suppose, I shou'd set myself up in the Song-singing Way,

When I ought to set down with my Nose.

My Song therefore ends, now a Toast, with your

leaveMay Wisdom our Councils compose, May Britons be Friends, and forget and forgive,

And at Faction each turn up his Nose.

SERIOSITY.

TUNE.
^ This cold finty Heart it is you who have warm'd."

WHITE

THITE Winter has left us, with all its chill

train, And fruitful Spring puts forth its buds o'er the plain; The Birds their glad welcome by warblings express, All Nature seems pleas'd at the change of her dress.

Let us take example, and merrily sing,
Each moment at midnight to us is new Spring;
Our green cover'd Table, a Garden for Souls,
Our Nosegays are Bumpers we gather from Bowls.

With Daisies, with King.cups, the meadows are

crown'd, But Blossoms from Bacchus our Verdure surround; 'Tis Life-and such Life too, which only Bucks

know, As for Death, we can talk about him when we go.

When coffin'd, no matter to us all the fun,
The smart things we've said, or the droll things

we've done; Future Fame's all a joke—I'm for Life's present

treat, What's to come may

be

queer, for To-morrow's a cheat.

'Tis certain that, one by one, all must resign The post of true pleasure, Health, Women,

and Wine. Think, Ladies, what Life is, and Living improve, To bilk the base worms, bestow Beauty on Love.

As we ought, we reflect on Life's pleasure and pain, We have liv'd, drank, and lov'd, we'll repeat them

again, While Desires depend on Ability's aidBut Faculty's failing,-here Sexton your spade.

I have acted from Instinct, I've liv'd upon Whim, As to Prudence-I can't say

I e'er drank with him ; With the Sun tho? I've drove round the Bottle in

Tune, And have labour'd all Night with Queen Midwife

the Moon.

As to Sins,—why, Repentance will shorten our

score, The lowest have Hopes, and the highest no more ; We speak as we feel, and we act as we think, And to Men of such Methods a Bumper we'll drink.

Here's to those who, like us, Affectations defy,
Not Spendthrifts of life, nor like Misers wou'd

dye : When callid on to pay, calmly cast up expence, And drink their last Toast-A good Journey from

hence.

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LEEP, thou leaden, lazy God,

What's thy Balın for Sorrow's Wound? What thy restorative Rod,

Can it render Wretches sound? Not thy Wand,-no, no! 'tis Wine,

Wine can all Distress defy; Ecce Signum, here's the sign,

Don't believe me, drink and try. Let the restless Sleep invoke,

Sleep which cicatrizes Care; Let-but, I say, Sleep's a joke,

Wine's the Dose against Despair. What we have been ?-why, farewell !

What we might be ?-we'll not think. What we shall be !- who can tell ?

Here we are, and here we'll drink.

When my Face deep wrinkles seize,

And my Head with palsy shakes; When the Gout benumbs the Knees,

And the Voice, once manly, breaks ; When the Sunken Cheeks shews pale,

And the hollow Eyes blear dim; When the Ear and Mem'ry fail,

And unnery'd each wither'd Limb.

Then repining, then I'll say,

Life, alas! is all a Cheat ! When I've nothing left to pay,

Envious, then, abuse the Treat. Soon or late, but late's too soon,

Who will trust to-morrow may; Thinking puts one out of Tune,

Let us drink, my Lads, to-day. Day by day, and night by night,

Joyful Jubilees we keep; Life 'we measure by Delight,

Tell me, have we time to sleep? Present Time is in our power,

And the means that Time t' improve ; Taste it, 'tis Enjoynient's Hour,

Pledge me, lads, in Wine and Love.

Let the Glass and Lass be kiss'd,

Let not coyness chill the scene; To excuse, or to resist,

Is High Treason to Love's Queen. Pouting Lips, and panting Breasts,

Pressing, mingling, murm'ring join; Wine inspiring Beauty's guests,

Pledge me, lads, 'tis Love and Wine.

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