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Foolish boy! Why tremblest thou? <p> Thou lovest it, then, my wine?<p> Wouldst more of it? See, how glows,<p> Through the delicate, flush'd marble,<p> The red, creaming liquor,<p> Strown with dark seeds! <p> Drink, thee! I chide thee not, <p> Deny thee not my bowl. <p> Come, stretch forth thy hand, thee-so! <p> Drink-drink again! <p> <p>Mathew Arnold, Circe in The Strayed Reveller, 1849

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