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Poem	Bring the bowl which you boast, Fill it up to the brim; ’Tis to him we love most, And to all who love him. Brave gallants, stand up, And avaunt ye, base carles! Were there death in the cup, Here’s a health to King Charles. Though he wanders through dangers, Unaided, unknown, Dependent on strangers, Estranged from his own; Though ’tis under our breath, Amidst forfeits and perils, Here’s to honor and faith, And a health to King Charles! Let such honors abound As the time can afford, The knee on the ground, And the hand on the sword; But the time shall come round When, ’mid Lords, Dukes, and Earls, The loud trumpet shall sound, Here’s a health to King Charles!
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