Miscellaneous writings of the late Dr. Maginn | ||
205
The Wine-Bibber's Glory—A New Song.
Quo me, Bacche, rapis tui
Plenum? ------
------ Dulce periculum est
O Lenæe! sequi Deum------
Cingentem viridi tempora pampino.
—Hor.
Plenum? ------
------ Dulce periculum est
O Lenæe! sequi Deum------
Cingentem viridi tempora pampino.
—Hor.
1
If Horatius Flaccus made jolly old BacchusSo often his favourite theme;
If in him it was classic to praise his old Massic,
And Falernian to gulp in a stream;
If Falstaff's vagaries, 'bout Sack and Canaries,
Have pleased us again and again;
Shall we not make merry on Port, Claret, Sherry,
Madeira, and sparkling Champagne?
2
First Port, that potation, preferr'd by our nationTo all the small drink of the French;
'Tis the best standing liquor, for layman or vicar,
The army, the navy, the bench;
'Tis strong and substantial, believe me, no man shall
Good Port from my dining-room send;
In your soup—after cheese—every way—it will please,
But most tête-a-tête with a friend.
3
Fair Sherry, Port's sister, for years they dismiss'd her,To the kitchen to flavour the jellies—
There long she was banish'd, and well-nigh had vanish'd
To comfort the kitchen-maids' bellies—
Till his Majesty fixt, he thought Sherry when sixty
Years old, like himself, quite the thing—
So I think it but proper, to fill a tip-topper
Of Sherry to drink to the King.
4
Though your delicate Claret by no means goes far, itIs famed for its exquisite flavour;
'Tis a nice provocation, to wise conversation,
Queer blarney, or harmless palaver;
206
Follows a swig of the Blue;
One may drink a whole ocean, nor e'er feel commotion,
Or headache from Chateau Margoux.
5
But though Claret is pleasant, to taste for the present,On the stomach it sometimes feel cold;
So to keep it all clever, and comfort your liver,
Take a glass of Madeira that's old:
When 't has sail'd to the Indies, a cure for all wind 'tis,
And colic 'twill put to the rout;
All doctors declare, a good glass of Madeira,
The best of all things for the gout.
6
Then Champagne! dear Champagne! ah! how gladly I drain aWhole bottle of Oeil de Perdrix;
To the eye of my charmer, to make my love warmer,
If cool that love ever could be,
I could toast her for ever—But never, oh! never,
Would I her dear name so profane;
So if e'er when I'm tipsy, it slips to my lips, I
Wash it back to my heart with Champagne!
Miscellaneous writings of the late Dr. Maginn | ||