Lines Addressed to Doctor Paris on His Birth-Day
Namesake of Helen's favourite boy,
Who shunn'd the martial fray,
May all your days be days of joy,
Like this, your natal day.
My votive glass—not pledg'd by stealth,
I fill at Bacchus' shrine;
And thus, convivial, drink your health,
Whose skill establish'd mine.
Who shunn'd the martial fray,
May all your days be days of joy,
Like this, your natal day.
My votive glass—not pledg'd by stealth,
I fill at Bacchus' shrine;
And thus, convivial, drink your health,
Whose skill establish'd mine.
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