Perhaps not even he.

Thou who hast heard the tale

Believe that Heaven is just,

And bear thy lot resign'd.

45

"I come," quoth she,

"From the beautiful Rhine,

And in my bowl

Is the amber wine.

Pure as gold

Without alloy,

Mild as moonlight,

Strong as joy;

Taste, and treasure it

Drink, but measure it—

Thirsty boy!"

II.

And who art thou,

So ruddy and bright,

With round full eyes

Of passionate light,

And clustering tresses

Dark as night?

And what hast thou drawn

From the teeming tun?

"I come," quoth she,

"From the blue Garonne,

Where the vines are kiss'd

By the bountiful sun,

47

And bear a flagon

Of bright Champagne,—

Age's cordial,

Beauty's toy,

Dancing, glancing,

Wine of Joy.

Taste, and treasure it—

Drink, but measure it—

Thirsty boy!"