ELIXIR VIT/E.

211

When Death officiates as butler, as we heresee him, and draws the cork, it is from the watersof that horrid lake he pours out the nauseousbeverage that all are compelled to drain from hishand. At his bidding the wine-bibber mustvisit other shades* than those whither he has

* Having here alluded to the well-known Shades at thefoot of London Bridge, and recollecting that a rhyming friendonce put into my hands an extemporaneous effusion, which hewrote while we were enjoying ourselves in that shady retreat,and which I happened to preserve, I take the liberty of in-serting it; particularly as every blow of the pile-driving mon-key announces that ere long these Shades shall be sought invain.

THE SHADES.

I sing not of Shades which they tell of below,

Where Pluto and Proserpine reign ;But I sing of the Shades whither wine-bibbers go,Where a stream of Oporto doth constantly flow—

A Lethe to wash away pain.

The Lethe of Tartarus, poets declare,

Oblivious virtues possessed ;But the Lethe we mean, metamorphoses care,—It inspires us to love and to cherish the fair,

And warms e'en the Anchoret's breast.

Oh, haste to the Shades, then, where wine-bibbers meet,

Oh, haste to that fav'rite resort,Where, in wet or dry weather, in cold or in heat,All care is forgot in a snug elbow seat,

When of port you have drank a full quart, W

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