What pains for others the arch poet takes,
He for a thousand poets verses makes.
As Querno hesitated for the next line, the good-humoured Pontiff replied—
Et pro mille aliis Archi-poeta bibit:
If for a thousand he's obliged to think,
He chooses for as many more to drink.
Querno, willing to make up for his former deficiency, exclaimed—
Porrige, quod facient mihi carmina docta Falernum:
To aid my genius, and my wit refine,
Most Holy Pontiff, pour Falernian wine.