In making Bacchus' joy, I'll roll,
Deny no pleasure to my soul;

Let Bacchus' health round briskly move,
For Bacchus is a friend to Love.
And he that will this health deny,
Down among the dead men let him lie.

May love and wine their rights maintain,
And their united pleasures reign,
While Bacchus' treasure crowns the board,
We'll sing the joys that both afford;
And they that wont with us comply,
Down among the dead men let them lie.

HOW STANDS THE GLASS AROUND? Anonymous. From a half sheet song, with the music, printed about the year 1710. How stands the glass around? For shame, ye take no care, my boys!

This is commonly called General Wolfe's song, and is said to have been sung by him on the night before the battle of Quebec.

COME NOW ALL YE SOCIAL POWERS.

Altered and enlarged from the Finale of BICKERSTAFFE'S "School of Fathers."

COME now all ye social powers,

Shed your influence o'er us;
Crown with joy the present hours,
Enliven those before us:
Bring the flask, the music bring,
Joy shall quickly find us;
Sport and dance, and laugh, and sing,
And cast dull care behind us.

Love, thy godhead I adore,

Source of generous passion;

Nor will we ever bow before

Those idols, Wealth and Fashion.
Bring the flask, &c.

Why the plague should we be sad,

Whilst on earth we moulder?

Rich or poor, or grave or mad,
We every day grow older.
Bring the flask, &c.

Friendship! oh, thy smile's divine!
Bright in all its features;
What but friendship, love, and wine,
Can make us happy creatures.
Bring the flask, &c.

Since the time will pass away
Spite of all our sorrow,
Let's be blithe and gay to-day,

And never mind to-morrow.
Bring the flask, the music bring,
Joy shall quickly find us;
Sport and dance, and laugh, and sing,
And cast dull care behind us.

WHEN I DRAIN THE ROSY BOWL.

From the works of Anacreon, Sappho, &c., translated by the Rev. Francis Fawkes 8vo. London: 1761.

WHEN I drain the rosy bowl,

Joy exhilarates the soul;

To the Nine I raise my song

Ever fair, and ever young.
When full cups my cares expel,
Sober counsel, then farewell!
Let the winds that murmur, sweep
All my sorrows to the deep.

When I drink dull time away,
Jolly Bacchus, ever gay,
Leads me to delightful bowers,
Full of fragrance, full of flowers.
When I quaff the sparkling wine,
And my locks with roses twine;
Then I praise life's rural scene,
Sweet, sequester'd, and serene.

When I drink the bowl profound,
(Richest fragrance flowing round)
And some lovely nymph detain,
Venus then inspires the strain.
When from goblets deep and wide,
I exhaust the gen'rous tide,
All my soul unbends-I play
Gamesome with the young and gay

BUSY, CURIOUS, THIRSTY FLY.

BUSY, curious, thirsty fly,

Drink with me, and drink as I;

Freely welcome to my cup,
Could'st thou sip and sip it up.
Make the most of life you may,
Life is short, and wears away.

Both alike are mine and thine,
Hastening quick to their decline;
Thine's a summer, mine's no more,
Though repeated to threescore;
Threescore summers, when they're gone,
Will appear as short as one.

Yet this difference we may see,
'Twixt the life of man and thee:
Thou art for this life alone,

Man seeks another when 'tis gone;

And though allow'd its joys to share,
'Tis virtue here, hopes pleasure there.

The old sheet copies of this ballad say, "Made extempore by a gentleman, occasioned by a fly drinking out of his cup of ale." The gentleman is stated on some authorities to have been Vincent Bourne, and the date of the production 1744. It was set to music as a duet for two voices by Dr. Greene. The last verse in the above copy was added by the Rev. J. Plumtre. The song is also attributed to Oldys, the antiquary.

WITH AN HONEST OLD FRIEND.
HENRY CAREY.

WITH an honest old friend, and a merry old song,
And a flask of old Port let me sit the night long;
And laugh at the malice of those who repine,
That they must swig porter, while I can drink wine.

I envy no mortal tho' ever so great,

Nor scorn I a wretch for his lowly estate;
But what I abhor, and esteem as a curse,
Is poorness of spirit, not poorness of purse.
Then dare to be generous, dauntless, and gay,
Let's merrily pass life's remainder away;
Upheld by our friends, we our foes may despise,
For the more we are envied the higher we rise.

WHAT IS WAR AND ALL ITS JOYS?

THOMAS CHATTERTON, born 1752, died 1770.
WHAT is war and all its joys?
Useless mischief, empty noise;
What are arms and trophies won?
Spangles glittering in the sun.
Rosy Bacchus, give me wine,
Happiness is only thine.

What is love without the bowl?
'Tis a languor of the soul;
Crown'd with ivy, Venus charms,
Ivy courts me to her arms.
Bacchus, give me love and wine,
Happiness is only thine.

A POT OF PORTER, HO!

From the "Myrtle and the Vine," or Complete Vocal Library, vol. ii. A.D. 1800

WHEN to Old England I come home,

Fal lal, fal lal la!

What joy to see the tankard foam.

Fal lal, fal lal la!

When treading London's well-known ground,

If e'er I feel my spirits tire,

I haul my sail, look up around,

In search of Whitbread's best entire.

I spy the name of Calvert,

Of Curtis, Cox, and Co.

I give a cheer and bawl for't,

"A pot of porter, ho!"

When to Old England I come home,
What joy to see the tankard foam!
With heart so light, and frolic high,
I drink it off to Liberty!

Where wine or water can be found,

Fal lal, fal lal la!

I've travell'd far the world around,

Fal lal, fal lal la!