Tixall Poetry.
133
XIX.
A Song.
Now that the spring hath fild our vaines
With kind and active fire,
And made greene liveries for the plaines,
And every grove a quire;
Sing we this song with mirth, and merry glee,
And Bacchus shall crowne the boule;
Heres to thee, and thee to me,
And to every thirsty soule.
With kind and active fire,
And made greene liveries for the plaines,
And every grove a quire;
Sing we this song with mirth, and merry glee,
And Bacchus shall crowne the boule;
Heres to thee, and thee to me,
And to every thirsty soule.
XX.
Another.
The delights of the bottle, and the charmes of good wine,
To the power and the pleasures of love must resigne;
To the power and the pleasures of love must resigne;
