Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/401

 The sea itself (which one would think Should have but little need of drink) Drinks twice ten thousand rivers up, So fill'd that they o'erflow the cup. The busy Sun (and one would guess By 's drunken fiery face no less) Drinks up the sea, and when he's done, The Moon and Stars drink up the Sun: They drink and dance by their own light, They drink and revel all the night: Nothing in Nature's sober found, But an eternal health goes round. Fill up the bowl, then, fill it high. Fill all the glasses there—for why Should every creature drink but I? Why, man of morals, tell me why?

350. 2. The Epicure

Underneath this myrtle shade, On flowery beds supinely laid, With odorous oils my head o'erflowing, And around it roses growing, What should I do but drink away The heat and troubles of the day? In this more than kingly state Love himself on me shall wait. Fill to me, Love! nay, fill it up! And mingled cast into the cup Wit and mirth and noble fires, Vigorous health and gay desires. The wheel of life no less will stay In a smooth than rugged way: