Pierides, or, The muses mount by Hugh Crompton, Gent.

20. The degrees of Bacchus.

HEre I will closely stand to my devotion, And wil not stir til we have dreyn'd the ocean. ••••re Ile commence brave matters, and aspire 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Bacchus schoole, till I can climb no higher. ••••awer attend me with a cheerfull cheek, ••nd doe not let my liquor be to seek: ••••r if thou dost, vile brat, (by Jove) I tell ye, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 mortifie thy bones into a jelly.

The I. Glasse.

••••ah, what is this? the biting of a flea ••••nto a Beare, a drop onto the sea. ••••ull rogue, recrute my cup, fill up the pot, ••••ep nothing void, nature admits it not. ••st thou not heard it on Apollo's drum, ••••atura non admittit vacuum? ••pply, supply me with another quick; ••his is devoured even at a lick.

2.

••gain, again recrute, and do not smother 〈◊〉〈◊〉 good beginning: help me with another;

3.

••nd yet another, with a nimble hand. ••uick, be obedient unto my command.

4.

••hese are but empty Prologues, you shall find ••here is a Scene of honour lies behind.

5.

All this is nothing to a dusty brain. Rehearse thy duty, fill the glass again.

6.

So, now I taste it's nature, but (alas) All this is nothing, fill the other glass.

7.

This whets the appetite, me thinks I find Room for a volly coming yet behind.

8.

Now I could smile, and in a chearful tone Sing out the praises of my sack alone.

9.

So, stay a little, and anon you'l see Which is the strongest, or my wits, or thee My brave Canary. No excess will grow On either side. Cork-like, my wits they flow Upon this liquor; and as that ascends, So thrives my wit, and to the world extends.

10.

Brave Wine I vow, a Cordial to my heart: Now I commence a Batchelor of Art.

11.

Now I am Master and a Doctor too; Law, Physick and Divinity I'le shew All in a volume. Here's the liquor'd Letter; And being liquor'd it will work the better. Here's Art refin'd, sweet Musick I have found; My head strikes up, and all my brains dance roun•• Here's Grammars Key, now I have undertook

••peak all tongues without a Construing book. ••gick and Rhetorick here recorded are; ••e's every thing that's pleasant and that's rare.

13.

〈◊〉〈◊〉 that Apollo was but here to see 〈◊〉〈◊〉 harmony betwixt my cups and me! 〈◊〉〈◊〉 that proud Hercules stood here before me! 〈◊〉〈◊〉 make him kneel, and tremblingly adore me. ••••ould he not shiver to behold me stand ••••th a full glass of Nectar in my hand; 〈◊〉〈◊〉 with a hand full and a head full too? ••••d run away, and glad he scaped so. ••••st noble drink, how are my thoughts unsnar'd? 〈◊〉〈◊〉 thinks I am a man of great regard. ••••w I conjecture that the world is mine; ••••ugh to see adversity repine, ••••cause I flourish. Both the Turk and Pope ••••nd bare to me, bo•••• pleading (with small hope) ••••r a poor pension. O beloved Sack, ••••ving but thee, I've all, and do not lack. ••••ere's wealth and riches, and here's beauty bright, ••••ere's Vertue and her Ladies of delight. ••••ere is the hand of Midas, (and that's much) ••••hich turneth all to gold that it doth touch. ••••ere is the pride of men, this makes small odds ••••etwixt our priviledges and the gods. ••••hen welcom Sack (brave Sack) with all my heart; ••••ith thee I'le live and die, and never part. ••••ow to the stars I go, and in my pride, ••••ecome a Deity bestellifi••d,

With glittering Nymphs (Diana-like) that be Set there on purpose to imbellish me. From Pole to Pole my fancy flies, to clear All insurrections that are gathered there: I dispossess bold Boreas, and asswage The stubborn sallies of his turdy rage. Clearing the air of gloomy clouds, and then I'le kick down Persens from his seat agen; And take the sloven that Lucina bears, And pull him from his Mistress by the ears. And being mounted on her Chrystal brest, There will I sip my solace and my rest. In her sweet bed of spices will I play From day till night, and then from night till day. Though Venus frown I care not, for I lack No heart to daunt a foe, when fill'd with Sack. There do I triumph in my glorie, for I need not bow to each competitor. But laugh to see how sadly they repine, And cannot climbe unto such fate as mine. There do I smile to see our Zealots creep In clods of earth, half 'wake, and half asleep, Like crawling Tortoises; while I arise Mounting aloft (like Eagles in the skies:) Then welcome Sack, the only wings that carry A soul into Elysium, is Canary.