And, Dying, Bless The Hand That Gave

Bacchus Ever Fair And Young, Drinking Joys Did First Ordain. Bachus's Blessings Are A Treasure, Drinking Is The Soldier's Pleasure, Rich The Treasure, Sweet The Pleasure- Sweet Is Pleasure After Pain.

But 'tis The Talent Of Our English Nation, Still To Be Plotting Some New Reformation.

So The False Spider, When Her Nets Are Spread, Deep Ambushed In Her Silent Den Does Lie.

I Am As Free As Nature First Made Man, Ere The Base Laws Of Servitude Began, When Wild In Woods The Noble Savage Ran.

The Blushing Beauties Of A Modest Maid.