Though spice-breathing gales o'er his caravan

hover,

[ascends,

Though round him Arabia's whole fragrance The merchant still thinks of the woodbines that

cover

[and friends. The bower where he sat with wife, children, The dayspring of youth, still unclouded by sorrow, Alone on itself for enjoyment depends; But drear is the twilight of age if it borrow

No warmth from the smiles of wife, children, and friends.

Let the breath of renown ever freshen and nourish The laurel which o'er her dead favourite bends; O'er me wave the willow! and long may it flou

rish,

[friends. Bedew'd with the tears of wife, children, and

Let us drink-for my song, growing graver and graver,

To subjects too solemn insensibly tends; Let us drink-pledge me high-Love and Virtue [friends.

shall flavour

The glass which I fill to wife, children, and

HON. W. R. SPENCER.

THE MELANCHOLY MOTHER'S

CRADLE SONG *.

HUSH, my baby! hush to rest!

Slumber bless thy pillow:

Sleep no more shall calm this breast,

Toss'd like ocean's billow.

* Written for an air composed by my friend, S. C. Brown, Esq.

VOL. III.

00

Hush, my babe! may Peace still spread
O'er thy couch her pinion;
Though thy hapless mother's head
Bends to woe's dominion.

Since, despising love and truth,
Stern thy father parted,
Bow'd to earth, in early youth

I perish broken hearted.

R. A. DAVENPORT.

THE PRAISES OF WINE.

Он moment most bless'd in the short life of man! Brightest spot of enjoyment in time's gloomy span! When, just languid enough for delight, we recline By the fire's cheerful blaze o'er the fast flowing

wine,

With sensations too soothing for words to express,
Alive to all joy, dead to every distress.
Then, then gushing forth from the rapturous soul,
Good humour and genius unitedly roll; [Youth,
Laughing Friendship recounts all the pastimes of
And at least we display that one excellence-truth.
Cold prudence is banished, hypocrisy dies,
And the warm honest spirit looks out at the eyes.

With sarcastic reflections let Rasselas paint
The sinner convivial, a hermit the saint:
But, annals of convents! full well can ye show
That stagnation engenders corruption below;
And though heavenly retirement may purify man,
Monastic retirement on earth never can.

Nay, vain is the censure that aims at the mind, And describes the good fellow to dulness confined, Calls his mirth void of fancy, his joy insincereWho can recognise Oldham and Rochester here? Or, to leave those choice wits and choice fellows

of yore,

Who will own this the picture of Morris and Moore?
Wine mitigates sorrow, wine stimulates joy!
Its virtues ne'er fail, its delights never cloy-
It gives strength to the weak, gentle thoughts to

the strong,

Renovation to hope, inspiration to song:
Age gathers fresh verdure from wonderful wine,
And the best bloom of youth, radiant liquor, is

thine!

Thou easest the captive, thou lull'st to repose The sad eye that too long has forgotten to close; All, all canst thou conquer-ah! wouldst thou

but prove

Victorious for me over absence and love.

DRINKING SONG.

HODGSON.

I CANNOT eat but little meat,
My stomach is not good;

But sure I think that I can drink
With him that wears a hood.
Though I go bare, take ye no care,
I am nothing a cold,
I stuff my skin so full within

Of jolly good ale and old.
Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;

But, belly, God send thee good ale enough, Whether it be new or old.

I have no roast but a nut-brown toast,
And a crab laid in the fire;

A little bread shall do me stead,

Much bread I not desire.

No frost, no snow, no wind, I trow,
Can hurt me if I wold,

I am so wrapp'd and thoroughly lapp'd
Of jolly good ale and old.

Back and side go bare, &c.

And Tib, my wife, that as her life
Loveth well good ale to seek,
Full oft drinks she till ye may see
The tears run down her cheek:
Then doth she troll to me the bowl,
Even as a maltworm should,
And saith, Sweetheart, I took my part
Of this jolly good ale and old.'

Back and side go bare, &c.

Now let them drink till they nod and wink,
Even as good fellows should do ;
They shall not miss to have the bliss
Good ale doth bring men to;

And all poor souls that have scour'd bowls,

Or have them lustily troul'd, God save the lives of them and their wives, Whether they be young or old.

1566.

STILL.

ANACREONTIC,

FREELY IMITATED FROM THE LATIN OF WALTER

DE MAPES.

I'LL in a tavern end my days mid boon companions

merry,

[sherry, Place at my lips a lusty flask replete with sparkling That angels hovering round may cry, when I lie

dead as door nail,

'Rise, genial deacon, rise and drink of the well

of Life Eternal.'

celestial,

'Tis wine the fading lamp of life renews with fire [terrestrial; And elevates the raptured sense above this globe Be mine the grape's pure juice unmix'd with any [no need on't. Water to heretics I leave, sound churchmen have

base ingredient,

spiration!

Various implements belong to every occupation; Give me a haunch of venison-and a fig for in[indite 'em, Verses and odes without good cheer I never could Sure he who meager days devised is d-d ad in

finitum!

liquor swallow,

When I exhaust the bowl profound and generous [bers follow; Bright as the beverage I imbibe the generous numYour sneaking water drinkers all, I utterly con

demn 'em;

[Agamemnon. He that would write like Homer must drink like