Had check’d his Am’rous flame with coy repulse,
The worst Events that mortals can befal;
By cares depress’d in pensive Hypoish mood,
With slowest pace, the tedious minutes Roll.
Thy charming sight, but much more charming Gust
New Life incites, and warms our chilly Blood,
Strait with pert Looks, we raise our drooping Fronts,
And pour in chrystal pure, thy purer Juice,
With cheerful Countenance and steady Hand
Raise it Lip-high, then fix the spacious Rim