Classic Poem

Vile potabis.

Born to be the plain man's friend,
Come, and to his taste descend;
In temperate draughts, from cans for household use,
Drink lean Salinum 's healthful juice.
'Tis thin, and hard — but, ah Maecenas knows,
What aid from strength, to pitied weakness flows:
I, my great patron, lending Grecian lees ,
Taught the sweeten'd Sharp to please:

'Twas Maecenas — let me, stay —
Ay! 'twas done, on that dear day ,
When the voic'd Theatric player
Hail'd, so loud, your entrance, there,
That the shout's applausive roar
Reach'd your river's distant shore
Whence the Etrurian echo's sound,
(Meeting Rome 's, and circling round)
Town and country votes to join,
Shook both Alps and Appenine .

Light, unbodied Sabine fits,
Careless hearts, and shallow wits:
Strength of brain, indeed, like yours ,
Deeper, mightier, growths endures:
Dares the Caecubanian bowl;
Drains Calenum's flowing soul:
I, of weaker head, decline
Politician's potent wine:
No Falernian's mingled flow
Bids my blushing Bacchus glow:
Not a single jar I fill,
Formia , from thy factious hill!
Safe, and sober, here, I drink,
Steer no state — but sing, and think.