Classic Poem

Here we securely live, and eate
The Creame of meat;
And keep eternal fires,
By which we sit, and doe Divine
As Wine
And Rage inspires.

If full we charme; then call upon
Anacreon
To grace the frantick Thyrse:
And having drunk, we raise a shout
Throughout
To praise his Verse.

Then cause we Horace to be read,
Which sung, or seyd,
A Goblet, to the brim,
Of Lyrick Wine, both swell'd and crown'd,
A Round
We quaffe to him.

Thus, thus, we live, and spend the houres
In Wine and Flowers:
And make the frollick yeere,
The Month, the Week, the instant Day
To stay
The longer here.

Come then, brave Knight, and see the Cell
Wherein I dwell;
And my Enchantments too;
Which Love and noble freedome is;
And this
Shall fetter you.

Take Horse, and come; or be so kind,
To send your mind
(Though but in Numbers few)
And I shall think I have the heart,
Or part
Of Clipseby Crew.