TO A JAR OF WINE

O gracious jar,— my friend, my twin,

Born at the time when I was born,—

Whether tomfoolery you inspire

Or animate with love's desire,

Or flame the soul with bitter scorn,

Or lull to sleep, O jar of mine!

Come from your place this festal day;

Corvinus hither wends his way,

And there's demand for wine!

Corvinus is the sort of man

Who dotes on tedious argument.

An advocate, his ponderous pate

Is full of Blackstone and of Kent;

Yet not insensible is he,

O genial Massic flood! to thee.

Why, even Cato used to take

A modest, surreptitious nip

At meal-times for his stomach's sake,

Or to forefend la grippe.

How dost thou melt the stoniest hearts,

And bare the cruel knave's design;

How through thy fascinating arts

We discount Hope, O gracious wine!

And passing rich the poor man feels

As through his veins thy affluence steals.

Now, prithee, make us frisk and sing,

And plot full many a naughty plot

With damsels fair — nor shall we care

Whether school keeps or not!

And whilst thy charms hold out to burn

We shall not deign to go to bed,

But we shall paint creation red;

So, fill, sweet wine, this friend of mine,—

My lawyer friend, as aforesaid.