Classic Poem

Too short the longest Life we find,
And Death we yield to with Regret;
Why are we then to Sleep inclin'd,
To make this short Life shorter yet?
E'en let's from slumbring Fits refrain,
And make our Lives as long again.

To lengthen out our Days in spight
Of niggard Time, or Destiny,
Let us not close our Eyes by Night,
Nor buried in dull Slumbers lie;
But, as the sprightly Drunkards do,
Let's live all Day, and all Night too.

For why should sober Sots still crave
To sleep half of this Life away,
Of which they ne'er enough can have,
Yet Death, ev'n whilst they live, obey?
When we a double Life may live,
And Nature spent with Wine revive.

Since that they live enough None think,
Why should we ask of churlish Fate
What they can grant themselves, who drink,
That is, make Life of longer Date;
While flowing Cups are ever crown'd,
And an eternal Health goes round.

Each Moment then of Life to save,
Let's inch it out by drinking deep;
For when we sink into the Grave,
We shall but lie too long asleep:
Then drench our Clay in Wine we must,
Least it too soon should turn to Dust.

Let smarting Lovers ply the Bowl,
Who here no other Lethe know;
To lull their Pains, their Griefs controul,
And banish from their Sense their Woe:
The sprightly Juice will waken Joy,
And ev'ry anxious Thought destroy.

Your sleepy, sober Sots no more
Than Twelve dull Hours enjoy of Life;
Whilst Drunkards live the Twenty four,
Free from sad Dreams and waking Strife:
Why then should dull Precisians cry
That Wine destroys our Entity?

When Mortals say the Sun goes down,
He hastes to drink beneath the Deep;
And to fresh Company is gone,
Only, like Us, his Rounds to keep:
Then whilst to Us he's under Ground,
Let, in his Stead, the Glass go round.

Brisk Wine, his sparkling Deputy,
Each Breast will in his Absence cheer;
Inspire with Warmth and Gaiety,
When he forsakes our Hemisphere:
So while the Glass its Round goes on,
We miss no Friend, and want no Sun.