Page:Poems - Tennyson (1843) - Volume 2 of 2.djvu/198

 Head-waiter, honour'd by the guest Half-mused, or reeling-ripe, The pint, you brought me, was the best That ever came from pipe. But though the port surpasses praise, My nerves have dealt with stiffer. Is there some magic in the place? Or do my peptics differ?

For since I came to live and learn, No pint of white or red Had ever half the power to turn This wheel within my head, Which bears a season'd brain about, Unsubject to confusion, Though soak'd and saturate, out and out, Thro' every convolution.

For I am of a numerous house, With many kinsmen gay, Where long and largely we carouse As who shall say me nay: