_Chorus._--Those ten commandments make but _two_-- All things for _me_, and none for _you_. Tra lara, tra lara. [7] Breeders of all foreign wars, Breeders of all household jars, Snugly 'scaping all the scars. Worshipp'd, like the saints they make; Tyrants, forcing fools to quake; Grasping all we brew or bake. All our souls and bodies ruling, All our passions hotly schooling, All our wit and wisdom fooling. Lords of all our goods and chattels, Firebrands of our bigot battles. When you see them, spring your rattles. Shun them, as you'd shun the Pest; Shun them, teacher, friend, and guest; Shun them, north, south, east, and west. France, her true disease has hit; France has made the vagrants flit; France has swamp'd the Jesuit. [8] _The Discovery of the Science of Languages._ By MORGAN KAVANAGH. London: Longman, Brown, Green, and Longmans. 1844. [9] The poets are a little at variance, and do not all celebrate the _same_ wine--(as some of us like Port, and some Madeira)--some, doubtless, dealt with better wine-merchants than others. Poets have the privilege of celebrating plain women, and wine that nobody else can drink. Redi talks of Monte Fiascone and Monte Pulciano--both _raisin_ wines to English or French stomachs. _Florence_ had no fame in those days, and _now_ makes by far the best wine in Italy--give _us_ good _Chianti_, and none of your Aleatico or Vino Santo. At Rome, there is not a flask of any thing fit to drink; and we recollect when bad _Spanish wine_ was brought up the Tiber to meet the deficiency. _Orvieto_ is far from wholesome; yet, in Juvenal's time, _Albano_ furnished a wine of superlative quality. "_Albani_ veteris pretiosa senectus;" the same passage denouncing _Falernian_ by the epithet of _acris_--a wine, he says, to _make faces at_. Again, _Cuma_ and _Gaurus_--the privilege of drinking those wines was for the _rich only_--are now the common drink of the peasants who cultivate them. "_Te_ Trifolinus ager _fecundis vitibus_ implet, Suspectumque jugum _Cumis_, et _Gaurus inanis_." The _vinum Setinum_, wine fit for patriots to drink "on the birthdays of Brutus and Cassius," was never heard of by a subject of the _Pope_, nor would be worth above a _paul_ a flask. But the day is far off when Italy will quaff a generous goblet on any such solemnity, or pour out a cup "Quale coronati Thrasca, Helvidiusque bibebant, Brut rum et Cassi natablibus."