Davĭdov.

While honouring the grape’s ruby nectar, All sportingly, laughingly gay; We determined—I, Silvia, and Hector, To drive old dame Wisdom away. “O my children, take care,” said the beldame, “Attend to these counsels of mine: Get not tipsy! for danger is seldom Remote from the goblet of wine.” “With thee in his company, no man Can err,” said our wag with a wink; “But come, thou good-natured old woman, There’s a drop in the goblet—and drink!” She frown’d—but her scruples soon twisting, Consented:—and smilingly said: “So polite—there’s indeed no resisting, For Wisdom was never ill-bred.” She drank, but continued her teaching: “Let the wise from indulgence refrain;” And never gave over her preaching, But to say “Fill the goblet again.” And she drank, and she totter’d, but still she Was talking and shaking her head: Mutter’d “temperance”—“prudence”—until she Was carried by Folly⁠[1] to bed.