Page:The Poetical Works of Thomas Parnell (1833).djvu/151

Rh They call'd, and drank at every touch;
 * He fill'd, and drank again;

And if the gods can take too much,
 * Tis said, they did so then.

Gay Bacchus little Cupid stung,
 * By reckoning his deceits;

And Cupid mock'd his stammering tongue,
 * With all his staggering gaits:

And Jocus droll'd on Comus' ways,
 * And tales without a jest;

While Comus call'd his witty plays
 * But waggeries at best.

Such talk soon set them all at odds;
 * And, had I Homer's pen,

I'd sing ye, how they drank like gods,
 * And how; they fought like men.

To part the fray, the Graces fly,
 * Who make 'em soon agree;

Nay, had the Furies selves been nigh,
 * They still were three to three.

Bacchus appeas'd, rais'd Cupid up,
 * And gave him 'back his bow;

But kept some darts to stir the cup
 * Where sack and sugar flow.