our hand the skull-cup, of which so much has been written, and that has on it:
"Start not—nor deem my spirit fled;
In me behold the only skull
From which, unlike a living head,
Whatever flows is never dull.
"I lived, I loved, I quaffed like thee;
I died—let earth my bones resign:
Fill up—thou canst not injure me;
The worm hath fouler lips than thine.
"Better to hold the sparkling grape,
Than nurse the earth-worm's slimy brood;
And circle in the goblet's shape
The drink of gods, than reptile's food.
"Where once my wit, perchance, hath shone,
In aid of others let me shine;
And when, alas! our brains are gone,
What nobler substitute than wine?
"Quaff while thou canst—another race,
When thou and thine like thee are sped,
May rescue thee from earth's embrace,
And rhyme and revel with the dead.
"Why not? since through life's little day
Our heads such sad effects produce;
Redeemed from worms and wasting clay,
This chance is theirs, to be of use."
Leaving this noble room, we descended by a few polished oak steps into the West Corridor, from which we entered the grand Dining Hall, and through several other rooms, until we reached the Chapel. Here we
