Now the storm begins to lower, And Jove descends in heavy snow, And streams of water stand congeal'd In cruel ice: let's drive away The wintry cold, and heap up fire, And mingle with unsparing hand The honied cup, and wreathe our brows With fragrant garlands of the season. And in summer, he writes— Now it behoves a man to soak his lungs In most cool wine; for the fierce dogstar rages, And all things thirst with the excessive heat. And in spring, he says— Now does the flowery spring return, And shed its gifts all o'er the land; and he continues— Come then, my boy, and quickly pour A cup of luscious Lesbian wine. And in his misfortunes he sings— One must not give one's thoughts up wholly To evil fortune; for by grieving We shall not do ourselves much good. Come to me, Bacchus; you are ever The best of remedies, who bring Us wine and joyous drunkenness. And in his hours of joy he says— Now is the time to get well drunk, Now e'en in spite of self to drink, Since Myrsilus is dead at last. And, giving some general advice, he says— Never plant any tree before the vine. How, then, could a man who was so very devoted to drinking be a sober man, and be content with one or two cups of wine? At all events, his very poem, says Seleucus, testifies against those people who receive the line in this sense. For he says, in the whole passage— Let us now drink,—why put we out the light? Our day is but a finger: bring large cups, Fill'd with the purple juice of various grapes; For the great son of Semele and Jove Gave wine to men to drive away their cares. Pour on, in just proportion, one and two, And let one goblet chase another quickly Out of my head. In which words he plainly enough intimates that his meaning is, that one cup of wine is to be mixed with two of water. 36. But Anacreon likes his liquors stronger still; as is shown by the verses in which he says— Let the cup well be clean'd, then let it hold Five measures water, three of rosy wine. And Philetærus, in his Tereus, speaks of two measures of water to three of wine. And he speaks thus,— I seem to have drunk two measures now of water, And only three of wine. And Pherecrates, in his Corianno, speaks even of two measures of water to four of wine, and says— _A._ Throw that away, my dear; the fellow has Given you such a watery mixture. _B._ Nay rather, 'tis mere water and nought else. _A._ What have you done?—in what proportions, You cursed man, have you this goblet mix'd? _B._ I've put two waters only in, my mother. _A._ And how much wine? _B._ Four parts of wine, I swear. _A._ You're fit to serve as cupbearer to the frogs. And Ephippus, in his Circe, says—