Such glassicles,

And vesicles,

And bits of things like icicles,

Are toys and curiosities

For babies and their gaping eyes;

Things which ladies put in caskets,

Or beside 'em in work-baskets;

I don't mean those who keep their coaches, But those who make grand foot approaches, With flower'd gowns, and fine huge broaches.

'Tis in a magnum's world alone

The Graces have room to sport and be known.

Fill, fill, let us all have our will:

But with what, with what, boys, shall we fill?
Sweet Ariadne-no, not that one,—ah no;

Fill me the manna of Montepulciano :

Fill me a magnum, and reach it me.—Gods!

How it slides to my heart by the sweetest of roads!

Oh, how it kisses me, tickles me, bites me!

Oh how my eyes loosen sweetly in tears!

In quel vetro, che chiamasi il tonfano

Scherzan le Grazie, e vi trionfano;
Ognun colmilo, ognun votilo,

Ma di che si colmerà?

Bella Arianna, con bianca mano
Versa la manna di Montepulciano;
Colmane il tonfano, e porgilo a me.
Questo liquore, che sdrucciola al core,
O come l' ugola e baciami, e mordemi!

O come in lacrime gli occhi disciogliemi!

Y

I'm ravished! I'm rapt Heaven finds me admissible!

Lost in an ecstasy! blinded! invisible!

Hearken, all earth!

We, Bacchus, in the might of our great mirth,

To all who reverence us, and are right thinkers;—
Hear, all ye drinkers!

Give ear, and give faith, to our edict divine—
MONTEPULCIANO'S THE KING OF ALL WINE.

Me ne strasecolo! me ne strabilio!

E fatto estatico vo in visibilio !

Onde ognun, che di Lieo

Riverente il nome adora,

Ascolti questo altissimo decreto,

Che Bassareo pronunzia, e gli dia fe,

MONTEPULCIANO D' OGNI VINO E IL RE.

At these glad sounds,

The Nymphs, in giddy rounds,

Shaking their ivy diadems and grapes,

Echoed the triumph in a thousand shapes.

The Satyrs would have joined them; but alas! They couldn't; for they lay about the grass,

As drunk as apes.

A così lieti accenti,

D'edere e di corimbi il crine adorne

Alternavano i canti

Le festose Baccanti ;

Ma i Satiri, che avean bevuto a isonne,

Si sdrajaron sull' erbetta

Tutti cotti come monne.

A BLESSED SPOT.

FROM AN EPIGRAM of ABULFADHEl ahmed, sURNAMED AL HAMADANI, RECORDED IN D'HERBELOT.

HAMADAN is my native place;

And I must say, in praise of it,

It merits, for its ugly face,

What every body says of it.

Its children equal its old men

In vices and avidity;

And they reflect the babes again

In exquisite stupidity.

Hamadan est mon pays, et je dirai à sa louange, qu'elle surpasse en laideur toutes les autres villes du monde;

Que ses enfans ont autant des vices que ses vieillards, et que ses vieillards ont autant de jugement et de sagesse que ses enfans.

Bibliotheque Orientale, ed. 1783, tom. iii., p. 116.