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 Our Western bard so learned and neat, And mellow and sweet, And brimming over with quaint conceit, Who has sung us lays of every land, On every theme from the light to the grand, Wishing well to me and mine, Sends me this Sicilian wine.

Nine-and-twenty years ago, , Passing delicate stems about, Poured this wine for out. Carl Benson, (How we apples swim!) To finish the flask assisted him.