Vaunt not its shippers, my friend, but produce it—an
Actual, "forty-five," languorous Lusitan,
Befitting, whate'er be its label,
You, my good host, and the guest at your table.
Steeped though you frown in this dryasdust clever age,
Dare you presume to resist such a beverage?
Why, ELDON, that dragon of virtue,
Never imagined its vintage could hurt you.
Liquor like this from a bottle whose crust is whole,
Liquor like this rubs the rust from the rusty soul;