On which account Bacchylides says:—
Sweet force, from wine proceeding,And Sophocles says—
Now warms my soul with love,
And on my spirit leading,
With hopes my heart does move.
It drives dull care away,
And laughs at walls and towers;
And bids us think and say,
That all the world is ours.
The man who drinks plenty of wine,
Will never for wealth be wishing;
For his cellar's a ceaseless mine,
And an undisturb'd heart he is rich in.
Drinking is a cure for woe.And other poets call wine—
Fruit of the field, which makes the heart to leap.And the king of all poets introduces Ulysses saying—
Let generous food supplies of strength produce,and so on.
Let rising spirits flow from sprightly juice,
Let their warm heads with scenes of battle glow,1