Augustus Great, proud Tiberine
Could ne’er have drunk, sure ne’er have made
Kind Bacchus! such an ardent wine.
Tell Princes, Kings; tell France; tell Spain
Of Hippocrene
Nectarine
Empurpled as Augustus’ train.
Recalling this alone:
All men are free to drown their sorrow –
Not Caesar only – and to sell the morrow
Cheap. But this once done –
How costly seems the morning sun!
