But lest my thirsty soul should parch and faint,
In such an arduous task, and sultry clime,
I'll cheer her spirits with a richer draught,
Than god-like Homer, or his gods e'er knew.
Hail, Burton-ale! (a)1 be thou my inspiration,
And reward! here's to my theme! methinks
I feel new vigour rais'd! my glowing thoughts
Confess the potent cause; and prove more virtue
In that little cup, than Helycon can boast!
O, for nature's pencil, and a Raphael hand,
To paint thy beauties, Burton, to the life.
Where! where shall we begin? where chuse a place,
To sit, and execute our great design?