Wine.

EWART’S OLD PORT.

To J. C——y, Esq.

On receiving from him a Present of
a Wine-strainer.—1825.

This life, dear C——y,—who can doubt?—
Resembles much friend Ewart’s [83] wine;
When first the ruby drops flow out,
How beautiful, how clear they shine!

And thus awhile they keep their tint,
So free from ev’n a shade,—that some
Would smile, did you but dare to hint,
That darker drops would ever come.

But soon, alas, the tide runs short;—
Each minute makes the sad truth plainer;
Till Life, like Ewart’s crusty Port,
When near its close, requires a strainer.

This, Friendship, can, alone, supply,—
Alone can teach the drops to pass,
If not with all their rosiest dye,
At least, unclouded, through the glass.

Nor, C——y, could a boon be mine,
Of which this heart were fonder, vainer,
Than thus, if Life be like old wine,
To have thy friendship for its strainer!

For many years the goodness of Mr. Ewart’s old Port has been duly appreciated by his private friends. The preceding verses, in The Times of Monday, (March 5, 1827,) have disclosed “the secret,” and now, probably, he will “blush to find it fame.” The knowledge of his “ruby drops” should be communicated to all who find it necessary to “use a little wine for their stomach’s sake, and their often infirmities.” Can the information be conveyed in more agreeable lines?

[83] A vender of capital old Port in Swallow-street.