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Home  »  The English Poets  »  The Bowl

Thomas Humphry Ward, ed. The English Poets. 1880–1918.rnVol. II. The Seventeenth Century: Ben Jonson to Dryden

John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester (1647–1680)

The Bowl

CONTRIVE me, Vulcan, such a cup

As Nestor used of old,

Shew all thy skill to trim it up,

Damask it round with gold.

Make it so large, that, filled with sack

Up to the swelling brim,

Vast toasts on that delicious lake,

Like ships at sea, may swim.

Engrave not battle on his cheek,

With war I ’ve nought to do,

I ’m none of those that took Maestrick,

Nor Yarmouth leaguer knew.

Let it no name of planets tell,

Fixed stars or constellations,

For I am no Sir Sindrophel,

Nor none of his relations.

But carve thereon a spreading vine;

Then add two lovely boys;

Their limbs in amorous folds entwine,

The types of future joys.

Cupid and Bacchus my saints are,

May Drink and Love still reign,

With wine I wash away my care,

And then to love again.