Bacchus one Day gayly striding
On his never sailing Ton;
Sneaking empty Pots deriding,
Thus address'd each toaping Son:
Praise the Joys that never vary,
And adore the liquid Shrine;
All things noble, gay and airy,
Are perform'd by generous Wine.

Ancient Heroes, crown'd with Glory,
Owe their noble Rise to me;
Poets wrote the flaming Story,
Fir'd by my Divinity:
If my Influence is wanting,
Musick's Charms but slowly move;
Beauty too in vain lies panting,
'Till I fill the Swains with Love.

If you crave a lasting Pleasure,
Mortals, this way bend your Eyes;
From my ever-flowing Treasure,
Charming Scenes of Bliss arise.
Here's the soothing balmy Blessing,
Sole Dispeller of your Pain;
Gloomy Souls from Care releasing:
He who drinks not, lives in vain.