Glass succeeds Glass, till the Dircean God
Shines in our Eyes, and with his Fulgent Rays
Enlightens our glad Looks with lovely Die;
All Blithe and Jolly that like Arthur’s Knights
Of Rotund Table, Fam’d in Pristin Records,
Now most we seem’d, such is the Power of Wine.
Thus we the winged Hours in harmless Mirth,
And Joys Unsull’d pass, till Humid Night
Has half her Race perform’d, now all abroad
Is hush’d and silent, nor the Rumbling Noise