Classic Poem

Sev'n boon-companions, jovial men,
(The thirstiest in the land are they),
Have sworn an oath, that ne'er again
Their lips a certain word should say —
In no manner — no!
Not in loud tone, nor low.

Sure " Water " is a gentle word,
Small harm or hurt therein can be;
How came it that the topers heard
This little word so loathingly?
Now list, while I tell
How this wonder befell.

Once some drink-loving stranger-wight
Assured these thirsty souls 'twas true,
That on a neighbouring wooded height
An inn was opened, large and new,
Where flowed, pure and fine,
The most excellent wine.

Now, though to hear a sermon preached
Not one would from his place have stirred,
Yet, if good liquor might be reached,
These brethren started at a word.
" Let's prove it, my brothers " ,
Said each to the others.

Away at early dawn they marched,
The sun arose with angry frown;
Their tongues grew dry, their lips were parched,
Large heat-drops rolled their faces down.
How sparkling, how bright
Leapt the streams from the height!

What copious draughts they swilled in haste!
Yet ere their thirst was wholly drowned,
Disgust in every look was traced
That water there — not wine — was found.
" What tap have we here,
What detestable cheer! "

As onward up the height they press,
The wood receives them on their way;
At once they're placed in sad distress,
Entangled shrubs their steps delay;
Perplexed more and more,
They wrangled, they swore.

Meanwhile behind a gloomy cloud
The sultry sun his face concealed,
Rain through the leaves came pattering loud,
The lightning flashed, the thunder pealed;
The torrent, increasing,
Poured down without ceasing.

The wood a thousand isles was made
By countless streams that burst to view;
Here groans are vain, or shrieks for aid,
They cannot choose but flounder through.
O baptism meet!
O drenching complete!

Full oft of old in founts and streams
Were converts made the sons of heaven,
And such a holy ending seems
To threaten these poor sinners seven;
All dripping, each seems
To be several streams!

At last to that long forest's verge,
More swimming than on foot, they come;
No inn doth anywhere emerge,
They see a path that leads them home.
Still sparkling and bright
Dash the streams from the height!

They seem a mocking voice to hear,
" You're welcome, brethren undefiled!
Ye stigmatized as evil cheer
The water that your thirst beguiled;
Now, soaked in it wholly,
Remember your folly. "

Hence came it that these worthy men
Feared water from that very day,
And sware an oath that ne'er again
Their lips that vilest word should say.
No, never, no, no!
Not in loud tone or low.