What time he played about the nestling woods, It has been well observed, that one sight of Laura was sufficient to set Petrarch singing for ever. One good drinking-bout, in like manner, is enough to initiate a poet in all the fervours and fancies of a thousand. If he takes his glass afterwards, it is from good fellowship, or from the fancy he brings with him, or from any necessity but that of want of ideas: and if he takes none, twenty to one but he is still the liveliest fellow at table. Out of one glass he can fetch as much treasure and surprize, as the Arabian did out of his nutshell that contained a tent for a army. BACCHUS IN TUSCANY. THE Conqueror of the East, the God of Wine, Taking his rounds divine, Pitch'd his blithe sojourn on the Tuscan hills; And where the imperial seat First feels the morning heat, Lo, on the lawn, with May-time white and red, He sat with Ariadne on a day, And as he sang, and as he quaff'd away, He kiss'd his charmer first, and thus he said : Dearest, if one's vital tide Ran not with the grape's beside, B What would life be (short of Cupid?) You see the beam here from the sky Quips, and cranks, and worlds of jesting, Let us, with a laughing eye, See the old boy Time go by, Who with his eternal sums Whirls his brains and wastes his thumbs. Away with thinking! miles with care! Hallo, you knaves! the goblets there. Gods-my life, what glorious claret! 'Tis Avignon. Don't say "a flask of it," And now, while my lungs are swimming at will All in a bath so noble and sweet, A god though I be, I too, I too have my deity; And to thee, Ariadne, I consecrate The tun, and the flask, And the funnel and cask. Accus'd, And abus'd, And all mercy refus'd, |