Old, but not bending with the weight of years; His face was ruddy, and he smiled benign, As if nor sickness had his form impair’d, Nor anxious cares his soul: his silver’d head Was bound with wreaths of salutary flow’rs, Call’d _Hops_ by men, but _Panace_ by Gods. “My son,” he said (and at his voice divine New life beat vig’rous in each throbbing vein) “Long has my friendly influence mov’d the scorn, My name the laughter of the sons of men, The sons of men, regardless of their weal {160} And health, the greatest sublunary good! The genius I of liquor, call’d below Small Beer, and doubtless you have heard me damn’d Full oft, by Belials rude, outrageous sons; But yet, were honour due, to Temp’rance given, Mine were the favours of th’ applauding crowd, * * * * * ——Here, taste and live, live soberly and well.” This said, a vase with steady hand he gave, Full to the brim, I quaft’d the tender’d draught; Swift the cool stream refresh’d my burning throat,— * * * * * In haste my visionary guest retir’d, And left me deep in contemplation drown’d Resolving reason never more to quench In floods _Lethean_ of deceitful wine; Deceitful wine! embrew’d with mixtures dire, By the curs’d vintner’s art for sordid pelf. O! grant me, Heav’n, to live with health and ease, My books, a sober friend, _Small Beer_, and sense: So shall my years the smiling fates prolong, And each auspicious morn shall see me happy. Even in distant times particular localities became noted for the excellence of their brewers. London early attained, and has maintained until the present day, a great reputation for its ale. Chaucer alludes to the taste of the Cook for a “draught of London ale.” Tyrwhitt says that in 1504 London ale was of such excellence that it fetched 5s. a barrel more than Kentish ale. This can hardly be, as we have already seen that at that period the barrel of London double ale only fetched 4s. Probably Tyrwhitt intended to refer to a tun and not to a barrel. The occasion referred to was the enthronement of William Wareham as Archbishop of Canterbury, when the provision made for washing down the vast stores of eatables was something tremendous. Besides great quantities of wine of many sorts, there were four tuns of London ale, six of Kentish, and twenty of English beer. The malt liquors of London, and especially London porter and stout, are known from pole to pole, and Burton ales have a no less world-wide reputation. Indeed, the word Burton has in itself come to be synonymous with ale, and the expression “a glass of Burton” has become a household word. {161} Burton and its famous brew are treated of elsewhere in these pages, and it must suffice here to insert an old song in praise of this nineteenth century nectar:— BURTON ALE.