Together, by the Sparrow ftung,
Down fall the wanton and young ›
And fledg'd by Geefe the Weapons fly,
When others love they know not why.

All this (as late I chanc'd to rove)
I learn'd in yonder waving Grove.
And fee, fays Love, (who call'd me near)
How much I deal with Nature here,
How both support a proper Part,

She gives the Feather, I the Dart:
Then cease for Souls averse to figh,

If Nature crofs ye, fo do I;

My Weapon there unfeather'd flies,

And shakes and fhuffles through the Skies.

But if the mutual Charms I find

By which she links you, Mind to Mind,

They

They wing my Shafts, I poize the Darts,

And strike from both, through both your Hearts.

ANACREONTICK..

G

AY Bacchus liking Eftcourt's Wine,
A noble Meal bespoke us;

And for the Guests that were to dine,
Brought Comus, Love, and Jocus.

The God near Cupid drew his Chair,
Near Comus, Focus plac'd;

For Wine makes Love forget its Care,

And Mirth exalts a Feast.

The more to please the sprightly God,
Each sweet engaging Grace

Put

Put on fome Cloaths to come abroad,

And took a Waiter's Place.

Then Cupid nam'd at every Glafs

A Lady of the Sky;

While Bacchus fwore he'd drink the Lass,
And had it Bumper-high.

Fat Comus toft his Brimmers o'er,

And always got the most;

Focus took care to fill him more,
When-e'er he mifs'd the Toast.

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

And if the Gods can take too much,

'Tis faid, they did so then.

Gay

Gay Bacchus little Cupid stung,

By reck❜ning his Deceits.

And Cupid mock'd his ftamm'ring Tongue,

With all his stagg'ring Gaits:

And focus droll'd on Comus' Ways,

And Tales without a Jeft;

While Comus call'd his witty Plays

But Waggeries at best.

Such Talk foon fet 'em all at odds;

And, had I Homer's Pen,

I'd fing ye, how they drunk like Gods,
And how they fought, like Men.

To part the Fray, the Graces fly,
Who make 'em foon agree;

2

Nay,

Nay, had the Furies felves been nigh,

They still were three to three.

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

But kept fome Darts to stir the Cup
Where Sack and Sugar flow.

Focus took Comus' rofy Crown,
And gayly wore the Prize,

And thrice in Mirth, he pufh'd him down,
As thrice he strove to rise,

Then Cupid fought the Myrtle Grove,

Where Venus did recline,

And Venus close embracing Love,

They joyn'd to rail at Wine.

And