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How it warms the veios !
How it makes him that's poos
Courageoully roar, Et mutat as dicere formas.
Give me the boy,
My delight and my joy,
By fack he that waxes,
In oor syntaxis, Ex verbum perfonale.
Art thou weak or lame,
Or thy wits to blame?
'Twill make him rise,
And be very wise, Cui vim natura negavit.
We have frolic rounds,
We have merry go downs. Yet nothing is done at random ;
For when we're to pay,
We club and away, Id eft commune notandum.
The blades that want cash,
Have creuit for craih, They'll have fack whatever it coitem ;
They do not pay
Till another day, Manet alta mente repoftum.
Who ne'er fails to drink
All clear from the brink, With a smooth and even swallow,
I'll offer at his fhrine,
And call it divine,
He that drinks ftill,
And ne'er has his fill, Hath a passage like a conduit :
The fack doth infpire
In rapture and fire, Sic ether æthera fundit.
When you merrily quaff,
If any go off,
Give their nose a twitch,
And kick 'em in the breech Nam componuntur ab affr.
I have told you plain,
And will tell you again,
He is an ass
That from hence doth pass,
A bumper, a bumper l'll have
Though I drink myself into the grave.
Who like me will ne'er give o'er ;
And merry stickle for more.
I scorn to obey her command,
And let my glass idly stand ?
A foe to the joys of dear drinking,
And bring us to positive thinking.
For I've tried an age away :
Rolls on, and cannot stay.
We'll drink the universe dry;
0. VOL. II.
A'L eo more ye learned affes,
Get the joys the bowl supplies ;
W& a! the bottom lies.
She cow draughts perplex the brain ;
Bumpers right it up again.
Ester Jollity and Joy ;
Marly inirth is our employ :
We'll the present hour engage;
With applause we'll quit the stage.
TOGENES furly and proud,
Who snari'd at the Macedon youth,
Because in good wine there is truth :
Unable to purchase a flask,
And liv'd by the scent of the cask.
Confifted originally of but fix verres. The author afterwards inSerted a number of additional stanzas, of which, those included within crotchets have been lomclimes pri part of the song. The whole is contained in a lilele pamphlet, incitied Wine and Wisdom, or the Tipling Philosophers, a lyrick poem. Lond. 1710,
Heraclitus would never deny
A bumper to comfort his heart, But when he was maudlin would cry,
Because he had emptied his quart : Though some are so foolish to think
He wept at mans folly and vice, 'Twas only his custom to drink
Till the liquor flow'd out of his eyes,
To tipple and cherish his soul;
When over a full flowing bowl :
The liquor he'd merrily quaff, And when he was drunk as a lord,
At those that were sober he'd laugh. ( Wife Solon, who carefully gave
Good laws unto Athens of old,
Though a king, to his coffers of gold ;
But, drinking, much talk would decline, Because 'twas the custom of fools,
To prattle much over their wine. Old Socrates ne'er was content,
Till a bottle had heightened his joys, Who in's cups to the oracle went,
Or he nc'er had been counted so wise : Late hours he certainly lov’d,
Made wine the delight of his life, Or Xantippe would never have provid
Such a damnable scold of a wife. ]