But soon, too soon, with one accord, they reel
Each on his seat begins to nod;
All conquering Bacchus’ pow’r they feel,
And pour libations to the jolly god.
At length, with dinner, and with wine, oppress’d,
Down in the chairs they sink, and give themselves to rest.
From The Gradus ad Cantabrigiam. By a Brace of Cantabs. London. Printed for John Hearne, 1824. It had previously appeared in The Spirit of the Public Journals for 1799. London, 1800.
Ode to a Wrangler’s Spread.
’Twas at the roaring feast for Wrangler won,
By Wiggin’s tipsy son,