Or merry swains, who quaff the nut-brown ale,
And sing enamored of the nut-brown maid.
_The Minstrel, Bk. I_. J. BEATTIE.
Fill full! Why this is as it should be: here
Is my true realm, amidst bright eyes and faces
Happy as fair! Here sorrow cannot reach.
_Sardanapalus, Act iii. Sc_. 1. LORD BYRON.
But maistly thee, the bluid o' Scots,
Frae Maidenkirk to John o' Grots,
The king o' drinks, as I conceive it,
Talisker, Isla, or Glenlivet!
For after years wi' a pockmantie
Frae Zanzibar to Alicante,
In mony a fash an' sair affliction
I gie 't as my sincere conviction--
Of a' their foreign tricks an' pliskies,
I maist abominate their whiskies.
Nae doot, themsel's, they ken it weel,
An' wi' a hash o' leemon peel,
An' ice an' siccan filth, they ettle
The stawsome kind o' goo to settle;
Sic wersh apothecary's broos wi'
As Scotsmen scorn to fyle their moo's wi'.
_The Scotman's Return from Abroad_ R.L. STEVENSON.
This bottle's the sun of our table,
His beams are rosy wine;
We planets that are not able,
Without his help to shine.
_The Duenna, Act iii. Sc_. 5. R.B. SHERIDAN.
Now to rivulets from the mountains
Point the rods of fortune-tellers;
Youth perpetual dwells in fountains,
Not in flasks, and casks, and cellars.
_Drinking Song_ H.W. LONGFELLOW.
In vain I trusted that the flowing bowl
Would banish sorrow, and enlarge the soul.
To the late revel, and protracted feast,
Wild dreams succeeded, and disordered rest.
_Solomon, Bk. II_. M. PRIOR.
And now, in madness,
Being full of supper and distempering draughts,
Upon malicious bravery, dost thou come
To start my quiet.
_Othello, Act i. Sc_. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
He that is drunken....
Is outlawed by himself; all kind of ill
Did with his liquor slide into his veins.
_The Temple: The Church Porch_. G. HERBERT.
A drunkard clasp his teeth, and not undo 'em,
To suffer wet damnation to run through 'em.
_The Revenger's Tragedy, Act iii. Sc. 1_. C. TOURNEUR.
I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking;
So full of valor that they smote the air
For breathing in their faces; beat the ground
For kissing of their feet.
_Tempest, Act iv. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.
Of my merit
On thet point you yourself may jedge;
All is, I never drink no sperit,
Nor I hain't never signed no pledge.
_The Biglow Papers, First Series, No. VII_.
J.R. LOWELL.