Appear at the call of my muse."
It comes, with a laugh on its rubicund face;
Methinks, by the way, it's in pretty good case,
For a spirit unblest with a body;
"On the claret bee's-wing," says the sprite, "I regale;
But I'm ready for all—from Lafitte down to ale,
From Champagne to a tumbler of toddy.
"Then I'm not over-nice, as at least you must know,
In the rank of my hosts—for the lofty or low
Are alike to the Spirit of Mirth;