Where claret flow'd in plenty.
'Now Cæsar at the head took place,
With Y— and K— beside him;
And those who said he shew'd no grace,
Most wofully belied him.
'Quoth he, when in his brain, a rout
The wine began to kick up,
Tho' lamely hopp'd the language out,
Delay'd by many a hiccup.
'Quoth he—"Upon my soul, Lord L.,[90]