Mirth

Where God is merry, there write down thy fears:
What He with laughter speaks, hear thou with tears.

Eaten I have; and though I had good cheer,
I did not sup, because no friends were there.
Where mirth and friends are absent when we dine
Or sup, there wants the incense and the wine.

While the milder fates consent,
Let's enjoy our merriment :
Drink, and dance, and pipe, and play ;
Kiss our dollies night and day :
Crowned with clusters of the vine,
Let us sit, and quaff our wine.
Call on Bacchus, chant his praise ;
Shake the thyrse, and bite the bays :
Rouse Anacreon from the dead,
And return him drunk to bed :
Sing o'er Horace, for ere long
Death will come and mar the song :
Then shall Wilson and Gotiere
Never sing or play more here.

Where pleasures rule a kingdom, never there
Is sober virtue seen to move her sphere.

Afflictions bring us joy in times to come,
When sins, by stripes, to us grow wearisome.

Evil no nature hath; the loss of good
Is that which gives to sin a livelihood.