Bacchanalian Songs, SONG

To Anacreon in heav'n where he sat in full glee, A few sons of harmony sent a petition; That he their inspirer and patron would be, When this answer arriv'd from the jolly old Grecian; Voice, fiddle, and flute No longer be mute, I'll lend you my name, and inspire ye to boot; And besides I'll instruct you like me to entwine The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine.

The news through Olympus immediately flew, When old thunder pretended to give himself airs, If these mortals are suffer'd their schemes to pursue, The devil a goddess will stay above stairs. "Hark! already they cry, "In transports of joy, Away to the sons of Anacreon we'll fly, And there, with good fellows, we'll learn to entwine., The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine. The yellow hair'd god and his nine fusty maids, From Helicon's banks will incontinent flee; Idalia will boast but of tenantless shades, And the biforked hills a mere desert will be; "My thunder, no fear on't, "Shall soon do its errand, And d—n me, I'll swing the ringleaders I warrant; I'll trim the young dogs for thus daring to twine, The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine.

Appollo rose up, and said "Prythee ne'er quarrel, Good king of the gods, with my vot'ries below; Your thunder is useless," Then shewing his laurel, Cried, Sic evitabile fulmen, you know! "Then over each head, "My laurel I'll spread, So my sons from your crackers no mischief shall dread, Whilst snug in their club room they jovially twine, The Myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine."

Next Momus got up, with his risible phiz, And swore with Apollo he'd chearfully join, The full tide of harmony still shall be his, But the song, and the catch, and the laugh shall be mine. "Then Jove be not jealous, "Of these hearty fellows: Cried Jove, we relent since the truth you now tell us: And swear, by old Styx, that they long shall intwine, The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine.

Ye sons of Anacreon then join hand in hand; Preserve unanimity, friendship, and love; 'Tis your's to support what's so happily plan'd; Youv'e the sanction of gods, and the fiat of Jove. "While thus we agree. "Our toast let it be. May our club flourish happy, united, and free; And long may the sons of Anacreon entwine, The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine.