Nectar of gods,—est, est!
"But even an Abbot has limits,
Though his were exceeding wide;
He passed them and, as you can fancy,
Dropped from the table and died:
Drowned as it were in the nectar,
Dead of the wine that is best,
In his hand the empty wine-cup,
His last words 'Est, est, est!'
Vanitas vanitorum!