In vain would spiteful nature us reclaim,
Who to small drink our isle thought fit to damn,
And set us out of the reach of wine,
In hope strait bounds could our vast thirst confine;
He taught us first with ships the seas to roam,
Taught us from foreign lands to fetch supply.
Rare art! that makes all the wide world our home,
Makes every realm pay tribute to our luxury.
6
This glass shall all thy proud usurping powers drown,
And wit on thy cast ruins shall erect her throne:
Adieu, thou fond disturber of our life!
That checkest our joys, with all our pleasure art at strife:
I've something brisker now to govern me,
A more exalted noble faculty,
Above thy logic, and vain boasted pedantry.
Inform me, if you can, ye reading sots, what 'tis
That guides the unerring deities?
They no base reason to their actions bring,
But move by some more high, more heavenly thing,
And are without deliberation wise:
Even such is this, at least 'tis much the same,
For which dull schoolmen never yet could find a name.
Call ye this madness? damn that sober fool,
(’Twas sure some dull philosopher, some reasoning tool)
Who the reproachful term did first devise,
And brought a scandal on the best of vice.
Go, ask me, what's the rage young prophets feel,
When they with holy frenzy reel:
Drunk with the spirits of infused divinity,
They rave, and stagger, and are mad, like me.
7
Bring, bring a deluge, fill us up the sea,
Let the vast ocean be our mighty cup,
We'll drink it, and all its fishes too, like loaches, up.
