Wine, No. 50

Ho, comrades mine! What is your pleasure? What business fine Or mirthful measure? Lo, Venus toward our crew advancing, A choir of Dryads round her dancing!

Good fellows you! The time is jolly! Earth springs anew, Bans melancholy; Bid long farewell to winter weather! Let lads and maids be blithe together.

Dame Venus spurns Her brother Ocean; To Bacchus turns; No colder potion Deserves her godhead's approbation; On sober souls she pours damnation.

Let then this band, Imbued with learning, By Venus stand, Her wages earning! Laymen we spurn from our alliance, Like brutes to art deaf, dumb to science.

Two gods alone We serve and mate with; One law we own, Nor hold debate with: Who lives the goodly student fashion Must love and win love back with passion!