ghizela rowe - the tea-table by nahum tate lyrics
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hail! queen of plants, pride of elysian bow’rs!
how shall we speak thy complicated pow’rs?
thou wond’rous panacea, to asswage
the calentures of youth’s fermenting rage
and animate the freezing veins of age
to bacchus when our griefs repair for ease
the remedy proves worse than the disease:
where reason we must lose to keep the round
and drinking others healths, our own confound:
whilst tea, our sorrows safely to beguile
sobriety and mirth does reconcilе:
for to this nectar we the blеssing owe
to grow more wise, as we more chearful grow
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