All this (as late I chanc'd to rove)
I learn'd in yonder waving grove.
And fee, fays Love, who call'd me near,
How much I deal with Nature here,

How both fupport a proper part,
She gives the feather, I the dart:
Then ceafe for fouls averfe to figh,
If Nature cross ye, fo do I;

My weapon there unfeather'd flies,

And shakes and fhuffles thro' the skies.

But if the mutual charms I find

By which the links you mind to mind,
They wing my shafts, I poize the darts,

And ftrike from both, through both your hearts.

ANACREONTIC.

AY Bacchus liking Eftcourt's wine,

GA

A noble meal bespoke us;

And for the guest that were to dine,

1

Brought Comus, Love, and Jocus.

C 3

The

The God near Cupid drew his chair,

Near Comus, Jocus plac'd;

For wine makes Love forget its care,

And mirth exalts a feaft.

The more to please the sprightly God,
Each sweet engaging Grace

Put on fome cloaths to come abroad,
And took a waiter's place.

Then Cupid nam'd at every glass,,

A lady of the sky;

While Bacchus fwore he'd drink the lafs,

And had it bumper-high.

Fat Comus toft his brimmers o'er,
And always got the moft;

Jocus took care to fill him more,

Whene'er he mift the toaft.

They

They call'd and drank at every touch;

He fill'd and drank again;

And if the Gods can take too much,

'Tis faid, they did fo then.

Gay Bacchus little Cupid ftung,

By reck'ning his deceits;

And Cupid mock'd his ftamm'ring tongue,
With all his ftagg'ring gaits:

And Jocus droll'd on Comus' ways,

And tales without a jest;

While Comus call'd his witty plays

But waggeries at best.

Such talk foon fet them all at odds;

And, had I Homer's pen,

I'd fing ye, how they drank like Gods,

And how they fought like men.

To part the fray, the Graces fly,

Who make them foon agree;

Nay, had the Furies felves been nigh,
They still were three to three.

Bacchus appeas'd, rais'd Cupid up,
And gave him back his bow;

But kept fome darts to ftir the cup,
Where fack and fugar flow.

Jocus took Comus' rofy crown,
And gayly wore the prize,

And thrice, in mirth, he push'd him down,

As thrice he ftrove to rife.

Then Cupid fought the myrtle grove,

Where Venus did recline,

And Venus clofe embracing Love,

They join'd to rail at wine.

And

And Comus loudly curfing Wit,

Roll'd off to fome retreat,

Where boon companions gravely fit

In fat unweildy state.

Bacchus and Jocus ftill behind,

For one fresh glafs prepare;

They kiss and are exceeding kind,

And vow to be fincere.

But part in time, whoever hear

This our inftructive fong;

For tho' fuch friendships may be dear,
They can't continue long.