Ha, ha, gods and kings; fill high, one and all;
    Drink, drink! shout and drink! mad respond to the call! 
    Fill fast, and fill frill; ’gainst the goblet ne’er sin;
    Quaff there, at high tide, to the uttermost rim:—­
      Flood-tide, and soul-tide to the brim!

    Who with wine in him fears? who thinks of his cares? 
    Who sighs to be wise, when wine in him flares? 
    Water sinks down below, in currents full slow;
    But wine mounts on high with its genial glow:—­
      Welling up, till the brain overflow!

    As the spheres, with a roll, some fiery of soul,
    Others golden, with music, revolve round the pole;

    So let our cups, radiant with many hued wines,
    Round and round in groups circle, our Zodiac’s Signs:—­
      Round reeling, and ringing their chimes!

    Then drink, gods and kings; wine merriment brings;
    It bounds through the veins; there, jubilant sings. 
    Let it ebb, then, and flow; wine never grows dim;
    Drain down that bright tide at the foam beaded rim:—­
      Fill up, every cup, to the brim!

Caught by all present, the chorus resounded again and again.  The beaded wine danced on many a beard; the cataract lifted higher its voice; the grotto sent back a shout; the ghosts of the Coral Monarchs seemed starting from their insulted bones.  But ha, ha, ha, roared forth the five-and-twenty kings—­alive, not dead—­holding both hands to their girdles, and baying out their laughter from abysses; like Nimrod’s hounds over some fallen elk.

Mad and crazy revelers, how ye drank and roared! but kings no more:  vestures loosed; and scepters rolling on the ground.

Glorious agrarian, thou wine! bringing all hearts on a level, and at last all legs to the earth; even those of kings, who, to do them justice, have been much maligned for imputed qualities not theirs.  For whoso has touched flagons with monarchs, bear they their back bones never so stiffly on the throne, well know the rascals, to be at bottom royal good fellows; capable of a vinous frankness exceeding that of base-born men.  Was not Alexander a boon companion?  And daft Cambyses? and what of old Rowley, as good a judge of wine and other matters, as ever sipped claret or kisses.

If ever Taji joins a club, be it a Beef-Steak Club of Kings!

Donjalolo emptied yet another cup.

The mirth now blew a gale; like a ship’s shrouds in a Typhoon, every tendon vibrated; the breezes of Omi came forth with a rush; the hangings shook; the goblets danced fandangos; and Donjalolo, clapping his hands, called before him his dancing women.

Forth came from the grotto a reed-like burst of song, making all start, and look that way to behold such enchanting strains.  Sounds heralding sights!  Swimming in the air, emerged the nymphs, lustrous arms interlocked like Indian jugglers’ glittering snakes.  Round the cascade they thronged; then paused in its spray.  Of a sudden, seemed to spring from its midst, a young form of foam, that danced into the soul like a thought.  At last, sideways floating off, it subsided into the grotto, a wave.  Evening drawing on apace, the crimson draperies were lifted, and festooned to the arms of the idol-pillars, admitting the rosy light of the even.