My jolly fat host with your face all a-grin,
Come, open the door to us, let us come in.
A score of stout fellows who think it no sin
If they toast till they’re hoarse, and they drink till
Hoofed it amain,
Rain or no rain,
To crack your old jokes, and your [...]
Thou who to burdened brain, and troubled heart
Dost wind thy way with gently sinuous art,
Slender, and graceful, curled with skill divine;
Mirth, riot, and revelry are ever thine
Whose office ’tis to seek and free the captive wine.
Hail! to thee men below and gods above
Attune their lays of homage and of love;
Fair silver ringlet! [...]
God Lyæus ever young,
Ever renowned, ever sung,
Stain’d with blood of lusty grapes
In a thousand lusty shapes;
Dance upon the mazer’s brim;
In the crimson liquor swim!
From thy plenteous hand divine
Let a river run with wine!
AT last, at last it rains,
The vine which was athirst
Its strength once more regains,
By heavenly bounty nursed.
So let your glasses clink
To water,—gift divine!
‘Tis water makes us drink
Through water, friends, ‘t is true
The Deluge once we had;
But, thanks to Heaven, there grew
The good beside the bad.
Our grave historians think
The Flood produced the vine:
‘Tis water makes [...]
There was an old waiter at Wapping,
Drew corks for a week without stopping;
Cried he, “It’s too bad!”
The practice I’ve had!
Yet cannot prevent them from popping!”
Come, thou monarch of the vine,
Plumpy Bacchus with pink eyne
In thy fats our cares be drown’d,
With thy grapes our hairs be crown’d!
Cup us till the world go round,
Cup us till the world go round!
From Antony And Cleopatra
 Pink eyne are small eyes. “Some have mighty yies and some be pinkyied. Quidam [...]
THere was a shaving royster as I heard many tell,
In Michael Dean’* fair Forrest in Glosterskire did dwell;
Some call’d him William Wiseman, but in that they were to blame;
Some call’d him Leonard Lack-wit, but that was not his name:
His name was Simple Simon, as it is well approv’d,
And amongst his friends [...]
ALONG the vines the blossoms thrive,
To-night just twenty years are mine…
Ah! but it’s good to be alive
And feel the veins that seethe and strive
Like the crushed grape that turns to wine.
My brain’s with idle thoughts abrim;
I wander in a tipsy swoon;
I run and drink the air I skim…
Is it the [...]
A Great Bottle Of Wine, Long Buried, Being That Day Dug Up. 1722-3.
Behold the bottle, where it lies
With neck elated toward the skies!
The god of winds and god of fire
Did to its wondrous birth conspire;
And Bacchus for the poet’s use
Pour’d in a strong inspiring juice.
See! as you [...]
Wine is a worship…
Are set in rows
In pods of lapis lazuli
When gods eat,
And though oysters
Are white as dawn and singing
From the sea —
The hearts of humming-jbirds
Are black as a storm
TO CLOE, DRINKING
When, my dear Cloe! you resign
One happy hour to mirth and wine,
Each glass you drink still paints your face
With some new victorious grace;
Charms in reserve my soul surprise,
And by fresh wounds your lover dies.
Who can resist thee, lovely fair!
That wit! that soft engaging air!
Each panting [...]
Laying truth bare, stripped of fable,
Briefly as I may be able,
With good reasons manifold,
I will tell why man should never
Copulate, but rather sever,
Things that strife and hatred hold.
When one cup in fell confusion
Wine with water blends, the fusion,
Call it by what name you will,
Is no blessing, nor deserveth
Any praise, but rather serveth
For the emblem of [...]
Oh! fine as musk, invisible,
Impalpable — as odors are —
Luxurious and wonderful
As essence from those isles afar
Where sweet amomum, cinnamon,
And all delicious spices grow,
Is their perfume, for dew and sun
And rain combine to make it so.
And while beneath an autumn sky
The atmosphere is redolent,
Within my hammock long I lie,
And breathe the [...]
I CANNOT die, who drank delight
From the cup of the crescent moon,
And hungrily as men eat bread,
Loved the scented nights of June.
The rest may die — but is there not
Some shining strange escape for me
Who sought in Beauty the bright wine
Weary and wasted, nigh worn-out,
You sigh and shake white hairs, and say,
”Ah, you will find the truth one day
Of Life and Nature, do not doubt!”
Age rhymes to sage, and let us give
The hoary head its honours due:
Grant Youth its privileges too,
And notions how to think and live.
Which has more chance to see aright
When you came, you were like red wine and honey,
And the taste of you burnt my mouth with its sweetness.
Now you are like morning bread,
Smooth and pleasant,
I hardly taste you at all, for I know your savor,
But I am completely nourished.
ONE MEMORY FROM SOCRATES
AFTER the song the love, and after the love the
Flute girl and pretty boy blowing
Bubbles of sparkling
Wine into darkling
Beards of a former austerity, stern even now, but
Foolish, with less of the stately
Reserve that held them sedately.
Oh Zeus, what a sight! with the wine dripping [...]