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276
POETRY.
Now
with
roses
we
are
crowned,
Let
our
mirth
and
cups
go
round,
While
a
girl,
whose
hand
a
spear,
Wound
with
ivy
twines,
does
bear,
With
her
white
feet
beats
the
ground
To
the
lyre's
harmonious
sound,
Played
by
some
fairy
boy,
whose
choice
Skill
is
heightened
by
his
voice;
Bright-haired
Love,
with
his
divine
Mother,
and
the
god
of
wine
Will
flock
hither,
glad
to
see
Old
men
of
their
company.
ANACREON.
>tl)dlo,
II.
3.
AND
let
me
the
canakin
clink,
clink,
And
let
me
the
canakin
clink:
A
soldier's
a
man,
A
life's
but
a
span,
Why,
then,
let
a
soldier
drink.
biltong
cwb
Ckopatra,
II.
7.
COME,
thou
monarch
of
the
vine,
Plumpy
Bacchus,
with
pink
eyne:
In
thy
vats
our
cares
be
drown'd;
With
thy
grapes
our
hairs
be
crown
'd
;
Cup
us,
till
the
world
go
round
;
Cup
us,
till
the
world
go
round.
King
<enrB
IV.,
Seconir
|)art,
IV.
3.
A
GOOD
sherris-sack
hath
a
twofold
operation
in
it:
it
ascends
me
into
the
brain,
dries
me
there
all
the
foolish,
and
dull
and
crudy
vapours
which
environ
it,
makes
it
apprehensive,
quick,
forgetive,
full
of
nimble,
fiery,
and
delectable
shapes,
which
de-
livered
o'er
to
the
voice
(the
tongue),
which
is
the
birth,
becomes