I cannot admire it,

Nor ever desire it;

'Tis a fool, and a madman, and impudent wretch, Who now will live in a nasty ditch,

And then grown proud, and full of his whims, Comes playing the devil and cursing his brims, And swells and tumbles, and bothers his margins, And ruins the flowers, although they be virgins.

Nel suo amor me non invesca

Questa sciocca, ed importuna,

Questa sciocca, che sovente

Fatta altiera, e capricciosa,

Riottosa, ed insolente,

Con furor perfidó e ladro,
Terra e ciel mette a soqquadro:

Ella rompe i ponti, e gli argini,
E con sue nembose aspergini

Su i fioriti e verdi margini

Porta oltraggio a' fior più vergini.

Moles and piers, were it not for him,

Would last for ever,

If they're built clever;

But no-it's all one with him-sink or swim.

Let the people yclept Mameluke

Praise the Nile without any rebuke;
Let the Spaniards praise the Tagus ;
I cannot like either, even for negus.

Away with all water,

Wherever I come;

I forbid it ye, gentlemen,

All and some;

Lemonade water,

Jessamine water,

Our tavern knows none of 'em,

Water's a hum.

Da mia masnada

Lungi sen vada

Ogni bigoncia

Che d'acqua acconcia

Colma si sta :

L'acqua cedrata

Di limoncello

Sia sbandeggiata

Dal nostro ostello :·

Jessamine makes a pretty crown;

But as a drink, 'twill never go down.
All your hydromels and flips

Come not near these prudent lips.
All your sippings and sherbets,
And a thousand such pretty sweets,
Let your mincing ladies take `em,

And fops whose little fingers ache 'em.

De' gelsomini

Non faccio bevande,

Ma tesso ghirlande

Su questi miei crini:

Dell' aloscia, e del candiero

Non ne bramo, e non ne chero:

I sorbetti ancorchè ambrati,

E mille altre acque odorose,

Son bevande da svogliati,
E da femmine leziose ;

Wine Wine! is your only drink;

Grief never dares to look at the brink:

Six times a year to be mad with wine,

I hold it no shame, but a very good sign.

Oh what a thing

A TUNE ON THE WATER.

'Tis for you and for me, On an evening in spring,

To sail in the sea!

Vino! Vino! a ciascun bever bisogna,

Se fuggir vuole ogni danno,

E non par mica vergogna

Tra i bicchier impazzir sei volte l'anno.

Oh bell' andare

Per barca in mare

Verso la sera

Di primavera!