PEARS , apples, cheese, dear Will , and wine,
If thou wilt grace my house, are thine;
(For these are in my pow'r.
When the last ray of yon bright sun,
Shall round its whirling axle run,
And hasten the sixth hour.

Thy wife delights in her neat home
And babes, but let her boldly come,
Provided she's at leisure.
Thy beauteous boy shall also find,
Altho' unask'd, a welcome kind,
And be receiv'd with pleasure.

And with thee haste the virgin Muse,
And jest that laughter shall diffuse,
And mirth that cheers the soul:
Banish afar corroding care,
Severity with gloomy air,
That might our joys control.

More wisely thou procrastinate
These evils to a wrinkled state,
When life's no more inviting:
E'er age comes on, while yet thy blood
Flows in a sprightly vig'rous flood,
Be cheerful and delighting.

Live! live, my Will , for now's the day;
Time, like a current, glides away,
Or th' evanescent wind;
Unstaid by stout Herculean force,
Nought can protract its rapid course,
And fleeting moments bind.

Shadows we are, or empty dust,
And vapour-like dissolve we must,
Nor are we more secure;
Nought can escape the dreary pit
But virtue and immortal wit,
Which endless shall endure.