That day the Juam grape did bleed; that day the tendril ringlets of the vines, did all uncurl and grape by grape, in sheer dismay, the sun ripe clusters dropped.

Grape-glad were five-and-twenty kings: five-and-twenty kings were merry.
Morando's vintage had no end; nor other liquids, in the royal cellar stored, somewhere secret in the grot.

Oh! where's the endless Niger's source?
Search ye here, or search ye there; on, on, through ravine, vega, vale--no head waters will ye find.

But why need gain the hidden spring, when its lavish stream flows by?
At three-fold mouths that Delta-grot discharged; rivers golden, white, and red.
But who may sing for aye?
Down I come, and light upon the old and prosy plain.
Among other decanters set afloat, was a pompous, lordly-looking demijohn, but old and reverend withal, that sailed about, consequential as an autocrat going to be crowned, or a treasure- freighted argosie bound home before the wind.

It looked solemn, however, though it reeled; peradventure, far gone with its own potent contents.
Oh! russet shores of Rhine and Rhone! oh, mellow memories of ripe old vintages! oh, cobwebs in the Pyramids! oh, dust on Pharaoh's tomb!-- all, all recur, as I bethink me of that glorious gourd, its contents cogent as Tokay, itself as old as Mohi's legends; more venerable to look at than his beard.