They Eat, They Drink, And

Bacchus, That First From Out The Purple Grape Crush'd The Sweet Poison Of Misused Wine.

I Fled, And Cry'd Out, Death; Hell Trembled At The Hideous Name, And Sigh'd From All Her Caves, And Back Resounded, Death.

There Swift Return Diurnal, Merely To Officiate Light Round This Opacous Earth, This Punctual Spot.

Yet I Argue Not Against Heav'n's Hand Or Will, Nor Bate A Jot Of Heart Or Hope; But Still Bear Up And Steer Right Onward.

And Ever Against Eating Cares Lap Me In Soft Lydian Airs, Married To Immortal Verse