Boy, young caterer of Falernian olden,
Brim me cups of a fiercer harsher essence;
So Postumia, queen of healths presiding,
Bids, less thirsty the thirsty grape, the toper.
But dull water, avaunt. Away the wine-cup's
Sullen enemy; seek the sour, the solemn!
Here Thyonius hails his own elixir.