SONG XII. BY DR. DALTON. * REACH not to me your mufly rules, Ye drones that mould in idle cell; If fhort my fpan, 1 lefs can fpare C SONG XIII. † OME now, all ye focial powers, Crown with joy, the prefent hours, Bring the flafk, the mufic bring. Drink, and dance, and laugh, and fing; Love thy godhead I adore, Source of generous paffion ; But will ne'er bow down before Thofe idols wealth or fashion. Bring the flask, &c. * In his excellent alteration of the Mafque of Comus. Altered and enlarged from the finale of Bickerstaffs School for Fathers. Friendship Friendship with thy fmile divine, What but friendship, love and wine Why the deuce fhould we be fad, Then fince time will fteal away Bring the flafk, the mufic bring, Joy fhall quickly find us; Drink, and dance, and laugh, and fing, SONG XIV. CATOS ADVICE. 7HAT Cato advises moft certainly wife is, WHAT 1 Not always to labour, but fometimes to play, To mingle sweet pleasure with fearch after treasure, Indulging at night for the toils of the day: And while the dull mifer efteems himself wifer, His bags to increase, while his health does decay, Our fouls we enlighten, our fancies we brighten, And pafs the long evenings in pleafure away. All chearful and hearty, we fet afide party, With fome tender fair the bright bumper is crown'd; Thus Bacchus invites us, and Venus delights us, While care in an ocean of claret is drown'd: See, here's our phyfician, we know no ambition, But where there's good wine and good company found; Thus happy together, in spite of all weather, 'Tis funfhine and fummer with us the year round. FROM AN ACREON. IF gold could lengthen life, I fwear, It then should be my chiefeft care, To get a heap, that I might fay, But fince life is not to be bought, With vain complaints, or fruitless cries ? Have all decreed it shall be so, What good will gold or crying do? Give me, to eafe my thirty foul, That once I had the world my flave. SONG SONG XVI. AN HUNDRED YEARS HENCE. L' ET us drink and be merry, Dance, joke, and rejoice, With claret and fherry, Theorboe and voice: To our joy is unjust, Then down with your duft. In frolics difpofe Your pounds, fhillings, and pence, For we fhall be nothing An hundred years hence. We'll kifs and be free With Moll, Betty, and Nelly, Have oysters and lobsters, A lafs fpring like a flea; Was born of the fea: We'll tickle the fenfe, For we shall be past it Your Your most beautiful bit, That hath all eyes upon her, That her honefty fells For a hogoe of honour, Are thought fit to attend her; The usurer, that In the hundred takes twenty, Which he fhall ne'er fee, Eight hundred and three: Your Chancery-lawyers, In fpinning out fuits To the length of three lives; Such |