John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester (1647–1680)

VULCAN, contrive me such a cup

As Nestor used of old;

Show 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 the delicious lake,

Like ships at sea may swim.

Engrave not battle on his cheek,

With war I’ve naught 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 Sidrophel,

Nor none of his relations.

But carve thereon a spreading vine,

Then add two lovely boys;

Their limbs in amorous folds entwine,

The type 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.