For the sake of that saint[529],—nay, nay![530]
Here’s the wine[531]—as you love me, stay!
’Tis Montepulciano!—Thank you.[532]
Heigho! ’Tis now six summers
Since I won that angel and married her:
I was rich,[533] not old, and carried her
Off in the face of all comers.
So fresh, yet so brimming with soul!
A tenderer morsel, I swear,
Never made the dull black coal[534]