III.

Crosiers for lordly priests provide,
Let warriors wield the truncheon;
I ask no implements beside

A tankard and a luncheon:

Verses and odes without good cheer
I never could indite 'em,

Sure he who meager days devis'd

Suum cuique proprium dat Natura munus,
Ego nunquam potui scribere jejunus;
Me jejunum vincere posset puer unus,
Sitim et jejunium odi tanquam funus.

IV.

When I exhaust the bowl profound
And gen'rous liquor swallow,
Bright as the beverage I imbibe
The gen'rous numbers follow;
Your sneaking water-drinkers all
I utterly condemn 'em,

He that would write like Homer,
Must drink like Agamemnon.

CANTILENA.

IV.

Non

Tales versus facio quale vinum bibo, possum scribere nisi sumpto cibo; Nihil valet penitùs quod jejunus scribo, Nasonem post calices facilè præibo.

Mysteries and prophetic truths,
I never could unfold 'em

Without a flagon of good wine
And a lusty slice of cold ham;
But when my flagon I have drain'd,
And eat what's in the dish up,
Tho' I am but an Archdeacon, I

Can preach like an Archbishop.

CANTILENA.

V.

Mihi nunquàm spiritus prophetiæ datur Nisi cùm fuerit venter benè satur:

Cùm in arce cerebri Bacchus dominatur In me Phoebus irruit ac miranda fatur.

SONG.

TO CHLOE kind and CHLOE fair, With sparkling eye and flowing hair, Tune the harp, and raise the song; Such as to Beauty doth belong!

Let the strain be sweet and clear; Such as through the listening ear, In well according harmony, May with the 'tranced soul agree!

She is Pleasure's blooming Queen: In the morn more fresh her mien, When awaken'd from repose, Than the summer's dewy rose: In the ev'ning brighter far

Than the ocean-bathed star.

And when Night, the friend of love,

Bids the silent hour improve,

To the ravish'd senses She

Gives joy, and bliss, and ecstasy.