Semele

EXtinguish the candles, give Phoebus fair play,
The shutters unbolt, let us honour the day;
My Lady Lucina we've drove from her post,
The Sun shines upon us, we'll give him a Toast.

Says Caution, the neighbours are passing along,
They'll look thro' the sashes, and tell us we're wrong:
Remonstrance avaunt—what is all they can say?
But they've slept all night whilst we drank it away.

Ye Tutors, Disputers, ye dignify'd Doctors,
Ye Majors, ye Minors, with Prebends and Proctors,
What Sense is it, prithee, which tells us to think?
When all our seven Senses declare we shou'd drink.

Our Patron is Bacchus, and Jove was his Sire,
He was born in a Burst of Celestial Fire;
Mamma begg'd the God wou'd come worthy her charms,
The Light'ning of Love prov'd too much for her Arms.

From her, in a moment, the Baby was snatch'd,
And into a Buck by Nurse Jupiter hatch'd;
Th' Immortal to expiate Semele's Rape,
Bestow'd on his Foundling the Gift of the Grape.

Ye Love-sick who live on the Shine of an Eye,
The Red of a Cheek, or the Tone of a Sigh;
Impress'd by the Smiles or the Frowns of a Fair,
As Weather-glass shews Variations of Air.

In Country or Town you have, seen without doubt,
A Dancing-Bear led by a ring in his snout;
While Pug plays his tricks if you shew him some fruit,
These Emblems, ye Ladies, will most Lovers suit.

If Girls won't comply why we never run mad,
But away to the next, as enough may be had;
If again we're repuls'd, we ne'er hang nor despair,
But in Wine comfort seek, we are sure of it there.

Draw your Bows ye Crochetti in Music's defence,
With Sound I'm for having a portion of Sense;
Give me a Bell's Tinkle, a fat Landlord's Roar,
With a good Fellow's Bellow,—Bring six Bottles more.

Six Bottles! we'll have them, and bumper away,
We've drank up the Night and we'll drink down the Day;
Here's their Healths who to Wine and their Words will be just,
Here's the Girl that we love, and the Friend we can trust.