Page:Poetical Works of John Oldham.djvu/61

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A DITHYRAMBIC.
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That gulp was worth a soul; like it, it went,

And throughout new life and vigour sent:
I feel it warm at once my head and heart,
I feel it all in all, and all in every part.
Let the vile slaves of business toil and strive,
Who want the leisure, or the wit to live;
While we life's tedious journey shorter make.
And reap those joys which they lack sense to take.
Thus live the gods (if aught above ourselves there be)
They live so happy, unconcerned, and free;
Like us they sit, and with a careless brow
Laugh at the petty jars of human kind below;
Like us they spend their age in gentle ease;
Like us they drink; for what were all their heaven, alas!
If sober, and compelled to want that happiness.

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Assist, almighty wine, for thou alone hast power,

And others I'll invoke no more;
Assist, while with just praise I thee adore;
Aided by thee, I dare thy worth rehearse,
In flights above the common pitch of grovelling verse.
Thou art the world's great soul, that heavenly fire,
Which dost our dull half-kindled mass inspire.
We nothing gallant and above ourselves produce,
Till thou dost finish man, and reinfuse.
Thou art the only source of all the world calls great,
Thou didst the poets first, and they the gods create;
To thee their rage, their heat, their flame they owe,
Thou must half share with art, and nature too;
They owe their glory, and renown to thee;
Thou givest their verse and them eternity.
Great Alexander, that biggest word of fame,
That fills her throat, and almost rends the same,
Whose valour found the world too strait a stage
For his wide victories and boundless rage,

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