|Earl of Rochester|
Franceschini. Bacchus with Putti, c1670.
The utmost grace the Greeks could show, |
When to the Trojans they grew kind,
Was with their arms to let 'em go
And leave their lingering wives behind.
They beat the men, and burnt the town:
Then all the baggage was their own.
There the kind deity of wine
Kissed the soft wanton god of love;
This clapped his wings, that pressed his vine,
And their best powers united move;
While each brave Greek embraced his punk,
Lulled her asleep, and then grew drunk.
The Complete Poems of the Earl of Rochester. David M. Vieth, ed.
New Haven: Yale University Press, 2002. 53.
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