Like clustering tents upon the embattled mead, <br />See Vitis thick her small pavilions spread. <br />Beneath each silken veil, with studious care <br />Five amorous brothers woo one yielding fair; <br />From the sweet raptures of the fond embrace, <br />Soon springs a lovely and a generous race: <br />In purple bright, or lucid verdure clad, <br />The passer's eye the groups luxuriant glad; <br /> <br />While o'er the enchanting clusters' native hue, <br />Spreads a rich tincture of celestial blue. <br />Sweet to the taste, the swelling orbs produce <br />A rich profusion of ambrosial juice; <br />Mantling and clear, man sees the beverage shine, <br />And hails with grateful voice the Power of Wine. <br />Fair and delicious boon of favouring Heaven, <br />To human kind the balm of sorrow given! <br />By this inspir'd, behold on blither wing <br />Soar the young Joys, the Muses sweeter sing; <br />With lighter step the dancing Graces move, <br />And fiercer burns the golden lamp of love. <br />But, thoughtless man! beware of foul excess, <br />Nor draw a curse where Heaven design'd to bless. <br />Then flies the genial draught that cheer'd the soul, <br />And fatal poison drugs the intemperate bowl; <br />Amid the flowrets of the festal wreath, <br />The serpents writhe of anguish and of death, <br />Shoots pale disease along the languid frame, <br />And passion's burning fiends the veins inflame.<br /><br />Henry James Pye<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-vine-9/
