Inflames both the brain and the eyes;
The inchantment commenc’d, there’s no telling
When care-drowning tipplers will rise.
O Malt! we acknowledge thy powers
What good and what ill dost thou brew!
Our good friend in moderate hours—
Our enemy when we get fu’:
Could thy vot’ries avoid the fell furies
So often awaken’d by thee,
We would seldom need Judges or Juries