1855.

May pray and whisper, and we not list,
Or look away, and never be missed,

Ere yet ever a month is gone.

Gillian's dead, God rest her bier,
How I loved her twenty years syne!
Marian's married, but I sit here
Alone and merry at Forty Year,

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Dipping my nose in the Gascon wine. 3C

William Makepeace Thackeray.

BLOW, BLOW, THOU WINTER
WIND

From As You Like It

BLOW, blow, thou winter wind,

Thou art not so unkind

As man's ingratitude;

Thy tooth is not so keen,

Because thou art not seen,

Although thy breath be rude.

Heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho! unto the green holly: Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere

folly:

Then, heigh-ho, the holly!

This life is most jolly.

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,

That dost not bite so nigh

As benefits forgot:

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Three Men of Gotham

Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp

As friend remembered not.

Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly: Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere

From Nightmare Abbey

SEAMEN three! What men be ye?
Gotham's three wise men we be.
Whither in your bowl so free?

To rake the moon from out the sea.

The bowl goes trim. The moon doth shine.

And our ballast is old wine;

And your ballast is old wine.

Who art thou, so fast adrift?
I am he they call Old Care.
Here on board we will thee lift.
No: I may not enter there.

Wherefore so? 'T is Jove's decree,
In a bowl Care may not be;

7

In a bowl Care may not be.

Fear ye not the waves that roll
No: in charmed bowl we swim.

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1818.

What the charm that floats the bowl?
Water may not pass the brim.

The bowl goes trim. The moon doth shine.
And our ballast is old wine;

And your ballast is old wine.

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Thomas Love Peacock.

GOOD ALE

From Gammer Gurton's Needle

I CANNOT eat but little meat;
My stomach is not good;
But, sure, I think that I can drink
With him that wears a hood!
Though I go bare; take ye no care,
I nothing am a-cold!

I stuff my skin so full within

Of jolly good ale and old.

Back and side go bare, go bare!
Both foot and hand go cold!

But, belly, God send thee good ale enough;
Whether it be new or old!

I love no roast but a nut-brown toast,
And a crab laid in the fire;

A little bread shall do me stead,

Much bread I not desire!

No frost, nor snow, nor wind, I trow,
Can hurt me if I would;

I am so wrapt, and thoroughly lapt
Of jolly good ale and old!

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20

A Winter Wish

And Tyb, my wife, that as her life
Loveth well good ale to seek,
Full oft drinks she, till you may see
The tears run down her cheek;
Then doth she trowl to me the bowl,
Even as a Malt Worm should,
And saith, "Sweetheart, I took my part
Of this jolly good ale and old!"

Now let them drink till they nod and wink, Even as Good Fellows should do,

They shall not miss to have the bliss

Good ale doth bring men to;

And all poor souls that have scoured bowls, Or have them lustily trowled,

God save the lives of them and their wives, Whether they be young or old!

1575.

John Still, or more probably,
William Stevenson.

A WINTER WISH

OLD wine to drink!

Ay, give the slippery juice

That drippeth from the grape thrown loose

Within the tun;

Plucked from beneath the cliff

Of sunny-sided Teneriffe,

And ripened 'neath the blink

Of India's sun!

Peat whiskey hot,

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36

Tempered with well-boiled water!

These make the long night shorter,—

Forgetting not

Good stout old English porter.

Old wood to burn!

Ay, bring the hill-side beech

From where the owlets meet and screech,
And ravens croak;

The crackling pine, and cedar sweet;

Bring too a clump of fragrant peat,

Dug 'neath the fern;

The knotted oak,

A fagot too, perhap,

Whose bright flame, dancing, winking,

Shall light us at our drinking;

While the oozing sap

Shall make sweet music to our thinking.

Old books to read!

Ay, bring those nodes of wit,

The brazen-clasped, the vellum writ,

Time-honored tomes!

The same my grandsire scanned before,
The same my grandsire thumbèd o’er,
The same his sire from college bore,
The well-earned meed

Of Oxford's domes:

Old Homer blind,

Old Horace, rake Anacreon, by
Old Tully, Plautus, Terence lie;

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