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A. E. Housman Bacchus ballad beer bottle bowl boys bumper Charles Charles Godfrey Leland cheer Chorus claret dance dear divine doth drank draught drinking songs drunk fair To fill fellows fill my glass fond of water grape gude hath heart Henry Morgan John jolly Jonson's jovial lass laugh liquor Lord mate of Henry Melancholy mirth Muses ne'er nectar never night nose nut-brown o'er old bold mate old wine pleasant poems poets quaff Robert Herrick Rose round Roxburghe Ballads sack Saint Saint Giles shine Simon the King sing sorrow soul spirit stout sung sweet taste Tavern Tea Table Miscellany tell thee think's a reason Thomas Love Peacock thou Three merry tipple toast todlin toss the pot Twas Twill Tyburn verse vine William William Ernest Henley William Harrison Ainsworth William Maginn William Makepeace Thackeray
Página xxvii - What things have we seen Done at the Mermaid! Heard words that have been So nimble and so full of subtle flame As if that every one from whence they came Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest, And had resolved to live a fool the rest Of his dull life.
Página 182 - Mine hosf s sign-board flew away, Nobody knew whither, till An astrologer's old quill To a sheepskin gave the story, Said he saw you in your glory, Underneath a new-old sign Sipping beverage divine, And pledging with contented smack The Mermaid in the Zodiac.
Página 150 - Chorus. Let the toast pass, Drink to the lass, I'll warrant she'll prove an excuse for the glass. Here's to the charmer whose dimples we prize ! Now to the maid who has none, sir : Here's to the girl with a pair of blue eyes, And here's to the nymph with but one, sir.
Página 91 - The thirsty earth soaks up the rain, And drinks, and gapes for drink again, The plants suck in the earth, and are With constant drinking fresh and fair. The sea itself, which one would think Should have but little need of drink, Drinks ten thousand rivers up, So fill'd that they oerflow the cup. The busy sun (and one would guess...
Página 228 - Ah, fill the Cup: - what boots it to repeat How Time is slipping underneath our Feet: Unborn TO-MORROW, and dead YESTERDAY, Why fret about them if TO-DAY be sweet!
Página 242 - Oh many a peer of England brews Livelier liquor than the Muse, And malt does more than Milton can To justify God's ways to man.
Página 27 - Brother, 1640 (acted 1616?). rjRINK to-day, and drown all sorrow; You shall perhaps not do it to-morrow : Best, while you have it, use your breath; There is no drinking after death.
Página 242 - And nothing now remained to do But begin the game anew. Therefore, since the world has still Much good, but much less good than ill, And while the sun and moon endure Luck's a chance, but trouble's sure, I'd face it as a wise man would, And train for ill and not for good.