e whole flotilla of trenchers--wrecks and all--were sent
swimming to the further end of Lake Como; and thence removed, gave
place to ruddy hillocks of fruit, and floating islands of flowers.
Chief among the former, a quince-like, golden sphere, that filled the
air with such fragrance, you thought you were tasting its flavor.

Nor did the wine cease flowing. That day the Juam grape did bleed;
that day the tendril ringlets of the vines, did all uncurl and grape
by grape, in sheer dismay, the sun ripe clusters dropped. Grape-glad
were five-and-twenty kings: five-and-twenty kings were merry.

Morando's vintage had no end; nor other liquids, in the royal cellar
stored, somewhere secret in the grot. Oh! where's the endless Niger's
source? Search ye here, or search ye there; on, on, through ravine,
vega, vale--no head waters will ye find. But why need gain the hidden
spring, when its lavish stream flows by? At three-fold mouths that
Delta-grot discharged; rivers golden, white, and red.

But who may sing for aye? Down I come, and light upon the old and
prosy plain.

Among other decanters set afloat, was a pompous, lordly-looking
demijohn, but old and reverend withal, that sailed about,
consequential as an autocrat going to be crowned, or a treasure-
freighted argosie bound home before the wind. It looked
solemn, however, though it reeled; peradventure, far gone with its
own potent contents.

Oh! russet shores of Rhine and Rhone! oh, mellow memories of ripe old
vintages! oh, cobwebs in the Pyramids! oh, dust on Pharaoh's tomb!--
all, all recur, as I bethink me of that glorious gourd, its contents
cogent as Tokay, itself as old as Mohi's legends; more venerable to
look at than his beard. Whence came it? Buried in vases, so saith the
label, with the heart of old Marjora, now dead one hundred thousand
moons. Exhumed at last, it looked no wine, but was shrunk into a
subtile syrup.

This special calabash was distinguished by numerous trappings,
caparisoned like the sacred bay steed led before the Great Khan of
Tartary. A most curious and betasseled network encased it; and the
royal lizard was jealously twisted about its neck, like a hand on a
throat containing some invaluable secret.

All Hail, Marzilla! King's Own Royal Particular! A vinous Percy!
Dating back to the Conquest! Distilled of yore from purple berries
growing in the purple valley of Ardair! Thrice hail.

But the imperial Marzilla was not for all; gods only coul