Tea does our fancy aid, Repress those vapours which the head invade And keeps that palace of the soul serene.

Virtue's a stronger guard than brass.

For all we know Of what the blessed do above Is, that they sing, and that they love. While I listen to thy Voice.

His love at once and dread instruct our thought; As man He suffer'd and as God He taught.

With wisdom fraught; not such as books, but such as practice taught.

And as pale sickness does invade, Your frailer part, the breaches made, In that fair lodging still more clear, Make the bright guest, your soul, appear.

Illustrious acts high raptures do infuse, And every conqueror creates a muse.