SONG XII.

BY DR. DALTON. *

REACH not to me your mufly rules,

Ye drones that mould in idle cell;
The heart is wifer than the fchoois,
The fenfes always reafon well.

If fhort my fpan, 1 lefs can fpare
To pass a fingle pleasure by;
An hour is long, if loft in care;
They only live, who life enjoy.

C

SONG XIII. †

OME now, all ye focial powers,
Shed your influence o'er us;

Crown with joy, the prefent hours,
Enliven thofe before us.

Bring the flafk, the mufic bring.
Joy fhall quickly find us;

Drink, and dance, and laugh, and fing;
And caft dull care behind us.

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,
Brighten all our features;

What but friendship, love and wine
Can make us happy creatures.
Bring the flask, &c.

Why the deuce fhould we be fad,
While on earth we moulder;
Grave or gay, or wife or mad,
We every day grow older.
Bring the flafk, &c.

Then fince time will fteal away
Spite of all our forrow;
Heighten every joy to-day,
Never mind to-morrow.

Bring the flafk, the mufic bring,

Joy fhall quickly find us;

Drink, and dance, and laugh, and fing,
And caft dull care behind us.

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,
When death came to demand his pay,
Thou flave, take this, and go thy way.

But fince life is not to be bought,
Why should I plague myself for nought;
Or foolishly disturb the skies

With vain complaints, or fruitless cries ?
For if the fatal deftinies

Have all decreed it shall be so,

What good will gold or crying do?

Give me, to eafe my thirty foul,
The joys and comforts of the bowl;
Freedom and health, and whilft I live,
Let me not want what love can give :
Then shall I die in peace, and have
This confolation in the grave,

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:
The changeable world

To our joy is unjust,
All treasure's uncertain,

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,
And maids by the belly.
Fish dinners will make

A lafs fpring like a flea;
Dame Venus, loves goddefs,

Was born of the fea:
With Bacchus and her

We'll tickle the fenfe,

For we shall be past it
An hundred years hence.

Your

Your most beautiful bit,

That hath all eyes upon her, That her honefty fells

For a hogoe of honour,
Whofe lightness and brightness
Doth fhine in fuch fplendour,
That none bnt the ftars

Are thought fit to attend her;
Though now fhe be pleafant,
And fweet to the fenfe,
Will be damnable mouldy
An hundred years hence.

The usurer, that

In the hundred takes twenty,
Who wants in his wealth,
And pines in his plenty ;
Lays up for a feafon

Which he fhall ne'er fee,
The year one thousand

Eight hundred and three:
His wit, and his wealth,
His learning, and fenfe,
Shall be turned to nothing
An hundred years hence.

Your Chancery-lawyers,
Whofe fubtilety thrives,

In fpinning out fuits

To the length of three lives;

Such