"Drink I yield to palates burning; They who for soul"s health are yearning, Need the aid that I have given; Since all pilgrims, at their praying, Far or near, I am conveying To the palaces of heaven."
Wine replied: "What thou hast vaunted Proves thee full of fraud; for granted That thou earnest ships o"er sea, Yet thou then dost swell and riot; Till they wreck thou hast no quiet; Thus they are deceived through thee.
"He whose strength is insufficient Thee to slake with heat efficient, Sunk in mortal peril lies: Trusting thee the poor wretch waneth, And through thee at length attaineth To the joys of Paradise.
"I"m a G.o.d, as that true poet Naso testifies; men owe it Unto me that they are sage; When they do not drink, professors Lose their wits and lack a.s.sessors Round about the lecture-stage.
""Tis impossible to sever Truth from falsehood if you never Learn to drink my juices neat.
Thanks to me, dumb speak, deaf listen, Blind folk see, the senses glisten, And the lame man finds his feet.
"Eld through me to youth returneth, While thine influence o"erturneth All a young man"s l.u.s.tihead; By my force the world is laden With new births, but boy or maiden Through thy help was never bred."
Water saith: "A G.o.d thou! Just men By thy craft become unjust men, Bad, worse, worst, degenerous!
Thanks to thee, their words half uttered Through the drunken lips are stuttered, And thy sage is Didymus.
"I will speak the truth out wholly: Earth bears fruit by my gift solely, And the meadows bloom in May; When it rains not, herbs and gra.s.ses Dry with drought, spring"s beauty pa.s.ses, Flowers and lilies fade away.
"Lo, thy crooked mother pining, On her boughs the grapes declining, Barren through the dearth of rain; Mark her tendrils lean and sterile O"er the parched earth at their peril Bent in unavailing pain!
"Famine through all lands prevaileth, Terror-struck the people waileth, When I choose to keep away; Christians kneel to Christ to gain me, Jews and Pagans to obtain me Ceaseless vows and offerings pay."
Wine saith: "To the deaf thou"rt singing, Those vain self-laudations flinging!
Otherwhere thou hast been shown!
Patent "tis to all the races How impure and foul thy place is; We believe what we have known!
"Thou of things the sc.u.m and rotten Sewer, where ordures best forgotten And unmentioned still descend!
Filth and garbage, stench and poison.
Thou dost bear in fetid foison!
Here I stop lest words offend."
Water rose, the foe invaded, In her own defence upbraided Wine for his invective base: "Now at last we"ve drawn the curtain!
Who, what G.o.d thou art is certain From thy oracle"s disgrace.
"This thine impudent oration Hurts not me; "tis desecration To a G.o.d, and fouls his tongue!
At the utmost at nine paces Can I suffer filthy places, Fling far from me dirt and dung!"
Wine saith: "This repudiation Of my well-weighed imputation Doth not clear thyself of crime!
Many a man and oft who swallowed Thine infected potion, followed After death in one day"s time."
Hearing this, in stupefaction Water stood; no words, no action, Now restrained her sobs of woe.
Wine exclaims, "Why art thou dumb then?
Without answer? Is it come then To thy complete overthrow?"
I who heard the whole contention Now declare my song"s intention, And to all the world proclaim: They who mix these things shall ever Henceforth be accursed, and never In Christ"s kingdom portion claim.
The same precept, "Keep wine and water apart," is conveyed at the close of a lyric distinguished in other respects for the brutal pa.s.sion of its drunken fervour. I have not succeeded in catching the rollicking swing of the original verse; and I may observe that the last two stanzas seem to form a separate song, although their metre is the same as that of the first four.
BACCHIC FRENZY.
No. 52.
Topers in and out of season!
"Tis not thirst but better reason Bids you tope on steadily!-- Pa.s.s the wine-cup, let it be Filled and filled for bout on bout Never sleep!
Racy jest and song flash out!
Spirits leap!
Those who cannot drink their rations, Go, begone from these ovations!
Here"s no place for bashful boys; Like the plague, they spoil our joys.-- Bashful eyes bring rustic cheer When we"re drunk, And a blush betrays a drear Want of s.p.u.n.k.
If there"s here a fellow lurking Who his proper share is shirking, Let the door to him be shown, From our crew we"ll have him thrown;-- He"s more desolate than death, Mixed with us; Let him go and end his breath!
Better thus!
When your heart is set on drinking, Drink on without stay or thinking, Till you cannot stand up straight, Nor one word articulate!-- But herewith I pledge to you This fair health: May the gla.s.s no mischief do, Bring you wealth!
Wed not you the G.o.d and G.o.ddess, For the G.o.d doth scorn the G.o.ddess; He whose name is Liber, he Glories in his liberty.
All her virtue in the cup Runs to waste, And wine wedded yieldeth up Strength and taste.
Since she is the queen of ocean, G.o.ddess she may claim devotion; But she is no mate to kiss His superior holiness.
Bacchus never deigned to be Watered, he!
Liber never bore to be Christened, he!
XX.
Closely allied to drinking-songs are some comic ditties which may have been sung at wine-parties. Of these I have thought it worth while to present a few specimens, though their medieval bluntness of humour does not render them particularly entertaining to a modern reader.
The first I have chosen is _The Lament of the Roast Swan_. It must be remembered that this bird was esteemed a delicacy in the Middle Ages, and also that pepper was highly prized for its rarity. This gives a certain point to the allusion in the third stanza.
THE LAMENT OF THE ROAST SWAN.
No. 53.
Time was my wings were my delight, Time was I made a lovely sight; "Twas when I was a swan snow-white.
Woe"s me! I vow, Black am I now, Burned up, back, beak, and brow!
The baster turns me on the spit, The fire I"ve felt the force of it, The carver carves me bit by bit.
I"d rather in the water float Under the bare heavens like a boat, Than have this pepper down my throat.