Classic Poem

O cask! that bears, like me, thy date
From Manlius his consulate,
Whether with murmurs, jests, or brawlings fraught,
Or mad amours, or sleep, the kind relief of thought!
Whatever be your long intent,
Choice Massic, worthy to have vent
On a good day, come forth at the behest
Of my Corvinus, come with mellowness and zest.
Not he, tho' forward to imbibe
The lore of the Socratic tribe,
Will brutish scorn thee — Cato, as they say,
Would often warm with wine his virtue and his clay.
To lend to sluggish minds a lift —
And brighten harshness is thy gift —
You take the cares from out a wiseman's breast,
And make our politicians with their secrets jest.
You doubtful minds by hope ensure,
The horns exalting of the poor,
Who, after he has fairly drank thee down,
Nor heeds the soldiers arms, nor dreads the tyrant's frown.
Bacchus and Venus on the spot,
And Graces ever in a knot,
And living lamps shall eke thee out to-night,
Till Phoebus drive the stars with his superior light.