With wine for water? 'Tis all one.
But this rare plant delays the stream
(At least if things are what they seem)
Through long eternities of dream.
What notes the antique Muse had known
Had she, instead of oat-straws, blown
Our wiser pipes of clay or stone!
Rash song, forbear! Thou canst not hope,
Untutored as thou art, to cope
With themes of such an epic scope.