When He Would Have His Verses Read

In sober mornings, do not thou rehearseThe holy incantation of a verse;But when that men have both well drunk and fed,Let my enchantments then be sung or read.

When laurel spirts i'th' fire, and when the hearthSmiles to itself, and gilds the roof with mirth;When up the thyrse is rais'd, and when the soundOf sacred orgies flies, a round, a round.When the rose reigns, and locks with ointments shine,Let rigid Cato read these lines of mine.