Not from Pindus' darksome mountain,
Not from the Castalian fountain,
Not from Tempe's desert valley,
Do the heavenly Muses sally;
Vainly there ye seek to find them,
Ages left their shades behind them.
They were Muses wild and savage,
Headed by a boor-Apollo:
Time's regenerating ravage
Brought a better race to follow;
And our Muses, young and laughing,
Dwell in vineyards of Tokay;
Ever there the grape-juice quaffing,
Ever gratulant and gay.