"I, who was wont the feſtal board to grace,
"And 'midſt the circle lift my honeſt face,
"White o'er with froth, like Etna crown'd with ſnow,
"Which mantled o'er the brown abyſs below,
"Where Ceres mingled with her golden ſtore
"The richer ſpoils of either India's ſhore,
"The dulcet reed the Weſtern iſlands boaſt,
"And ſpicy fruit from Banda's fragrant coaſt.
"At ſolemn feaſts the nectar'd draught I pour'd,
"And often journey'd round the ample board:
"The portly Alderman, the ſtately Mayor,
"And all the furry tribe my worth declare;
"And the keen Sportſman oft, his labours done,
"To me retreating with the ſetting ſun,
"Deep draughts imbib'd, and conquer'd land and ſea,
"And overthrew the pride of France—by me.
"Let meaner clay contain the limpid wave,
"The clay for ſuch an office nature gave;
