VULCAN contrive me such a Cup
As Nestor us'd of old:
Shew all thy Skill to trim it up;
Damask it round with Gold.
Make it so large that, fill'd with Sack 5 Up to the swelling Brim,
Vast Toasts, on the delicious Lake,
Like Ships at Sea, may swim.
Engrave not Battel on his Cheek;
With War I've nought to do: 10 I'm none of those that took Mastrick,
Nor Yarmouth Leaguer knew.
Let it no Name of Planets tell,
Fixt Stars, or Constellations:
For I am no Sir Sindrophel, 15 Nor none of his Relations.
But carve thereon a spreading Vine;
Then add two lovely Boys;
Their Limbs in amorous Folds intwine,
The Type of future Joys. 20
Cupid and Bacchus my Saints are;
May Drink and Love still reign:
With Wine I wash away my Cares,
And then to Love again.
____________________A Thought of Death2
WHEN on my sick Bed I languish,
Full of sorrow, full of anguish,