Such suits which the clients

Do wear out in slavery,
Whilft pleader makes conscience

A cloak for his knavery,
May boast of his subtilety

In the present tense, But Non eft inventus

An hundred years hence.

Then why should 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, post mortem

Nulla voluptas.
Let's deal with our damsels,

That we may from thence,
Have broods to succeed us

An hundred years hence.

Look within the bowl that's flowing,

And a thousand charms you'll find, More than in Phillis, though just going, In the moment to be kind.

Alexander

Alexander hated thinking,

Drank about at council board ; He subdu'd the world by drinking,

More than by his conquering sword.

AS

S swift as time put round the glass,

And husband well lifes little space ; Perhaps your fun, which shines so bright, May set in everlasting night.

Or, if the fun again should rise,
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 wise.

SONG XIX.

USY, curious, thirsty Fly,

Drink with me, and drink as I;
Freely welcome to my cup,
Could'st thou sip and sip it up.
Make the most of life you may,
Life is short, and wears away..

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

Vol. II,

с

Bosh

Both alike are mine and thine,
Haftening quick to their decline:
Thine's a summer, mine no more,
Though repeated to threescore ;
'Threescore fummers, when they're gone,
Will appear as short as one.

SONG

XX.

ANACREON ON HIMSELF.

BY THE REV. MR. FAWKES.

W"

7HEN I drain the rosy bowl,

Joy exhilarates my soul;
To che Nine I raise my song,
Ever fair and ever young.
When full cups my cares expell,
Sober counsels then farewell;
Let the winds, that murmur, sweep
All my sorrows 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 sparkling wine,
And

my

locks with roses twine, Then I praise lifes rural scene, Sweet, fequefter'd, and serene.

M ;

ORTALS, learn your lives to measure,

Not by length of time, but pleasure ;
Now the hours invite, comply ;
Whilst you idly pause, 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 ;
And may linger, but not live.

SONG XXII.

LD Chiron thus preach'd to his pupil Achilles :

Obu cehi you
, you are endlemani

; what the Fates will ist

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 lain,

Ne'er let your noble courage be cast 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 sooner to the Stygian ferry.

Then never let vain cares oppress us ;

Riches are to them a snare;
We're ev'ry one as rich as Crcesus,

While our bottle drowns our care.

Wine will make us red as roses,

And our sorrows 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.

1

Godlike Bacchus thus commanding,

Trembling Death away fhall fly;
Ever after understanding,

Drinking fouls can never die.

SONG