Water thus wine's home-thrust warded: "All thy life is foul and sordid, Sunk in misery, steeped in vice; Those who drink thee lose their morals, Waste their time in sloth and quarrels, Rolling down sin's precipice. "Thou dost teach man's tongue to stutter; He goes reeling in the gutter Who hath deigned to kiss thy lips; Hears men speak without discerning, Sees a hundred tapers burning When there are but two poor dips. "He who feels for thee soul's hunger Is a murderer or whoremonger, Davus Geta Birria; Such are they whom thou dost nourish; With thy fame and name they flourish In the tavern's disarray. "Thou by reason of thy badness Art confined in prison sadness, Cramped and small thy dwellings are: I am great the whole world over, Spread myself abroad and cover Every part of earth afar. "Drink I yield to palates burning; They who for soul's health are yearning, Need the aid that I have given; Since all pilgrims, at their praying, Far or near, I am conveying To the palaces of heaven." Wine replied: "What thou hast vaunted Proves thee full of fraud; for granted That thou earnest ships o'er sea, Yet thou then dost swell and riot; Till they wreck thou hast no quiet; Thus they are deceived through thee. "He whose strength is insufficient Thee to slake with heat efficient, Sunk in mortal peril lies: Trusting thee the poor wretch waneth, And through thee at length attaineth To the joys of Paradise. "I'm a god, as that true poet Naso testifies; men owe it Unto me that they are sage; When they do not drink, professors Lose their wits and lack assessors Round about the lecture-stage. "'Tis impossible to sever Truth from falsehood if you never Learn to drink my juices neat. Thanks to me, dumb speak, deaf listen, Blind folk see, the senses glisten, And the lame man finds his feet. "Eld through me to youth returneth, While thine influence o'erturneth All a young man's lustihead; By my force the world is laden With new births, but boy or maiden Through thy help was never bred." Water saith: "A god thou! Just men By thy craft become unjust men, Bad, worse, worst, degenerous! Thanks to thee, their words half uttered Through the drunken lips are stuttered, And thy sage is Didymus. "I will speak the truth out wholly: Earth bears fruit by my gift solely, And the meadows bloom in May; When it rains not, herbs and grasses Dry with drought, spring's beauty passes, Flowers and lilies fade away. "Lo, thy crooked mother pining, On her boughs the grapes declining, Barren through the dearth of rain; Mark her tendrils lean and sterile O'er the parched earth at their peril Bent in unavailing pain!