The Tea-Table by Nahum Tate

Lyrics
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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Credits
- Writers
- Nahum Tate