Unless when qualified with thee, Cogniac!

Sweet Naïad of the Phlegethontic rill!

Ah! why the liver wilt thou thus attack,[DU]—

And make, like other nymphs, thy lovers ill?

I would take refuge in weak punch, but rack
(In each sense of the word), whene'er I fill

My mild and midnight beakers to the brim,

Wakes me next morning with its synonym.[242]