The most priestly countenances soon beamed with cheerfulness, and the
officers and courtiers outdid each other in audacious jokes. Then the old
man signed to a young temple-servant, who wore a costly wreath; he came
forward with a small gilt image of a mummy, carried it round the circle
and cried:

"Look at this, be merry and drink so long as you are on earth, for soon
you must be like this."

[A custom mentioned by Herodotus. Lucian saw such an image brought
in at a feast. The Greeks adopted the idea, but beautified it,
using a winged Genius of death instead of a mummy. The Romans also
had their "larva."]

Gagabu gave another signal, and the Regent's steward brought in the wine
from Byblos. Ani was much lauded for the wonderful choiceness of the
liquor.

"Such wine," exclaimed the usually grave chief of the pastophori, "is
like soap."

[This comparison is genuinely Eastern. Kisra called wine "the soap
of sorrow." The Mohammedans, to whom wine is forbidden, have
praised it like the guests of the House of Seti. Thus Abdelmalik
ibn Salih Haschimi says: "The best thing the world enjoys is wine."
Gahiz says: "When wine enters thy bones and flows through thy limbs
it bestows truth of feeling, and perfects the soul; it removes
sorrow, elevates the mood, etc., etc." When Ibn 'Aischah was told
that some one drank no wine, he said: "He has thrice disowned the
world." Ibn el Mu'tazz sang:

"Heed not time, how it may linger, or how swiftly take its flight,
Wail thy sorrows only to the wine before thee gleaming bright.
But when thrice thou st drained the beaker watch and ward
keep o'er thy heart.
Lest the foam of joy should vanish, and thy soul with anguish smart,
This for every earthly trouble is a sovereign remedy,
Therefore listen to my counsel, knowing what will profit thee,
Heed not time, for ah, how many a man has longed in pain
Tale of evil days to lighten--and found all his longing vain."
--Translated by Mary J. Safford.]

"What a simile!" cried Gagabu. "You must explain it."

"It cleanses the soul of sorrow," answered the other. "Good, friend!"
they all exclaimed. "Now every one in turn shall praise the noble juice
in some worthy saying."

"You begin--the chief prophet of the temple of Atnenophis."

"Sorrow is a poison," said the priest, "and wine is the antidote."

"Well said!--go on; it is your turn, my lord privy councillo