LE

The Grateful TOAST.

ET the waiter bring clean glaffes,
With a fresh fupply of wine;
your faces,

For I fee by all

In my wishes you will join.

It is not the charms of beauty
Which I purpose to proclaim;
We a while will leave that duty,
For a more prevailing theme.

To the health I'm now propofing,
Let's have one full glass at least;
No one here can think't imposing,
'Tis the founder of our feast,

MOR

To make the Best of Time.

ORTALS, feize your fleeting treasure, Only found in love's foft pleasure; Make the most of life you can: Quick, enjoy (it is but reafon) Every inch, in youth's gay feason,

Of your narrow, narrow span.

WINE preferr❜d to LovE.

F to love and good wine

Your heart fhou'd incline,

Great Bacchus gives th' only true pleasure;

The follies of love

Will quickly remove ;

'Tis drinking has joys above measure; All friendship is here:

Come, kiss me, my dear ;

No embrace like a folid full glafs:

By love you can gain

No more but a' chain,

And then you will look like an afs.

See! look on this wine;

The charms are divine,
Which ever will fmile to invite ye;

'Tis pure, without art,

No tricks, or falfe heart, And never will fail to delight ye.

Fond love is a bubble,

A toil, and a trouble,

It brings neither profit nor ease:
To Bacchus we'll fing,

Always young as the spring;

'Tis wine that adds length to our days.

Chorus.

Chor. Fill, fill every one his glass,
About then let it pass;

A pox of love, there's nought but dulnefs in it
A bumper gives the only happy minute.

On the Duke of MARLBOROUGH.

NOME, let a chearful glass go round,

COM

To England's brave retriever;

Let all our cares in this be drown'd;
Curfe on the unbeliever.

England's belov'd Germanicus,

Bavaria's fcourge and ruin;
Who came, and faw, and conquer'd thus,

Great Cafar's steps pursuing.

Worthy of all we can bestow,
Distinguish'd by her favour,

To whom we all our bleffings owe,

Next to the gods who

gave

her.

The

The Knights of the BATH.

M'And a story you'll hear,

mafters, give ear,

Of a fine raree-shew, and a garter;
Ne'er was feen fuch a fight,
Since Tom Thumb was a knight,
In the days of our noble king Arthur.

In the abbey that day,

They did all things but pray:

There were ale, cakes, and gin, for the rabble;
Such doings unclean

In a place ne'er were seen,

Since the time that old Paul's was a ftable.

The way that they took

Was thro' an old crooked nook, In order they might not be feen-a; Long fcaffolds had they,

To fhew them the way,

Where they feldom or never had been-a.

They all walk'd; for the prince
Did with riding dispense,

And with bathing a troublesome rite-a :
For he knew 'twas in vain,

They'd ne'er be wash'd clean,

No more than a blackamoor white-a.

Tis

'Tis true that they took

Aftrong oath on a book,

In the times of old popery known-a;
To be be true all their lives,

To maids, widows, and wives,
And all ladies; excepting their own-a.

Which oath if they broke,

Then the fovereign's cook

Was to hack of the fpur of each don-a:
But 'tis well if he cou'd,

For his eyes must be good
To fee that they had any on-a.

Now this being done,

They to dinner did run,

With ftomachs fo fharp, and fo keen-a;

As they used to do,

Without grace they fell to,

Ne'er minding the chaplain, their dean-a.

To finish it all,

They at night had a ball,

Where the ladies were drefs'd to receive 'em : What further was done,

Is better unknown,

So it's decent that there we fhou'd leave 'em.