[Upon drinking in a
BOWL.]
I.
Vulcan contrive me such a Cup
As Nestor us’d of old:
Shew all thy Skill to trim it up;
Damask it round with Gold.
II.
Make it so large that, fill’d with Sack
Up to the swelling Brim,
Vast Toasts on the delicious Lake,
Like Ships at Sea, may swim.
III.
Engrave not Battel on his Cheek;
With War I’ve nought to do:
I’m none of those that took Mastrick,
Nor Yarmouth Leaguer knew.
IV.
Let it no Name of Planets tell,
Fixt Stars, or Constellations:
For I am no Sir Sindrophel,
Nor none of his Relations.