Page:The Poetical Works of Thomas Parnell (1833).djvu/151

They call'd, and drank at every touch;
He fill'd, and drank again;
And if the gods can take too much,
Tis said, they did so then.

Gay Bacchus little Cupid stung,
By reckoning his deceits;
And Cupid mock'd his stammering tongue,
With all his staggering gaits:

And Jocus droll'd on Comus' ways,
And tales without a jest;
While Comus call'd his witty plays
But waggeries at best.

Such talk soon set them all at odds;
And, had I Homer's pen,
I'd sing ye, how they drank like gods,
And how; they fought like men.

To part the fray, the Graces fly,
Who make 'em soon agree;
Nay, had the Furies selves been nigh,
They still were three to three.

Bacchus appeas'd, rais'd Cupid up,
And gave him 'back his bow;
But kept some darts to stir the cup
Where sack and sugar flow.