e. The most precious spikenard or
ambergris shall be coarse beside thy scent; and thy fairest daughter
shall be named after the Queen of Flowers--the ROSE!" Thus spake the
elements, and we rejoiced at their promised blessings, and we adorned
the child with vine leaves, and sent him to the Kaiser in his castle at
Ingelheim. And the Kaiser marvelled at the beauty of the child, and
from that day he esteemed the vines of the Rhine among the most
splendid of his treasures.'

We sat silent for a while when Bacchus had finished, until her Ladyship
requested Andrew to favour us with an old melody, which he did with
great ease and grace, by singing a simple old song of the fourteenth or
fifteenth century. The words have escaped my memory, but the tune I
remember still. This set us all off, even Frau Rosa herself, who sang a
pretty little air of 1615 with a rather trembling voice, and Roland
also growled out in deep bass a Frankish war hymn, of which I could
distinguish little. I was obliged to bear my part, so I began bravely,

The Rhine! the Rhine! the garden of the vine!
Heaven bless the noble Rhine!
Along his bank the clustered grapes entwine,
And patriot hearts inspire to guard the Rhine!

When they heard the words they pressed nearer, and nodded to one
another, and stretched out their necks as if wishful not to lose a
word. I sang louder and louder for their encouragement. It was
inspiration enough to be heard by such a company. The old Rose kept
time with her head, and gently hummed the chorus, and the Apostles
gazed at me with surprise and joy in their eyes. When I had finished,
all were loud in praise of the poor Doctor of Philosophy. 'What a
song!' cried Bacchus himself, 'how my heart opens to it, dear Doctor,
was it composed in that head of yours that's crowned with academic
honours?' 'No, indeed, your honour, the composer has long been dead; he
was called Matthew Claudius.' 'He knew a good glass of wine when he
came across it, I'll go bail,' said another. 'I don't know, sir,' said
I, 'though I have no doubt of it; but another great mortal has said,

Good wine is a good familiar creature, if it be well used,

and I think old Claudius had a similar idea, or he would never have
written such a beautiful song, which all men still sing as they sit
beneath the vine-covered arbours of the Rhine.' 'Well, Doctor,' said
Bacchus, 'if they still sing songs like that they can't be quite such a
mise