And are drunk by the vine,
For its daughters' birth.

"And the liquid light,
I drink again;
And it flows in might
Through the shining brain,

"Making it know
The things that are
In the earth below,
Or the farthest star.

"I will not think
That the Prophet said,
_Ye shall not drink
Of the flowing Red_.

"For his promise, lo!
Shows more divine,
When the channels o'erflow
With the singing wine.

"But if he did, 'tis a small annoy
To sit in chains for a heavenly joy."

Away went the song on the light wind borne.
His head sank down, and a ripple of scorn,
At the irons that fettered his brown limbs' strength.
Waved on his lip the dark hair's length.