The Placer herald., 1857-12-26
On Lending a Punch Bowl.
BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES,

This ancient silver bowl of mine-it tells of good
Of joyous days and jolly nights, and merry Christ
mas chimes;
They were free and jovial race, but honest
brave and true,
That dipped their lade in the punch when this
old bowl was new
A Spanish galleon brought the bar-so runs the
ancient tale
Twas hammered by an Antwerp smith, whose
arm was like fail;
And now and then between the strokes for fea1
his strength should fail,
He wiped his brow and quafled cup of good old
Flemish ale.
Twas purchased by an English squire to please
his loving dame,
Who saw the cherubs, and conceived a longing
for the same;
And eft as on the ancient stock another twig was
found,
Twas filled with caudle spiced and hot, and hand
ed smoking round.
But, changing hands, it reached at length a Puri-
tan divine,
Who used to follow Timothy, and take little
But hated punch and preacy; and so it was, per-
haps,
He went to Leyden, where he found conventicles
and schnaps.
And then Of course. you know what's next-it left
the Dutchman's shore
With those that in the .Haptloarer came-a hun
dred souls and more
Along with all the furniture, to fill their new
abodes-
To judge by what is still on hand. at least hun
dred loads.
Twas on dreary winters eve, the night was
closing dim.
When old Miles Standish took the bowl, and filled
it to the brim,
The little Captain stood and stirred the possct
with his sword,
And all his sturdy men at arms were ranged about
the board
lie poured the fiery hollands in--thc man that
lie took long and solemn draught, and wiped his
yellow beard;
And one by one the musketcers, the men that
fought and prayed.
All drank as twere their mothers milk. and not
man afraid
That night, ailr GIFTED from his nest. the scream
ing eagle flew.
He heard the Pcquot's ringing Nhoop, the SOL
der's wild halloo:
And there the sachcm learned the rule he taught
to kith and kin
"Run from the white man when you find he smells
Of hollands 9in!''
A hundred years and fifty more had spread their
leaves and SHOWS.
\ thousand rubs had fattencd down each little
cherub's nose;
When once again the bowl was filed but not in
mrth or joy
Twas mingled by Il mothers hand to cheer her
parting boy.
Drink. John, said she. twill do you good-poor
child. you'll never bear
This orking in the dismal trench, out in the mid
night air,
And if-God bless mc--you were hurt 'twoud
keep away the chill;
So John did drink-and well he wrought that
night at Bunkcrs Hill!
| tell you. there was generous warmth in good
old English cheer;
/ tell you, twas a pleasant thought to bring its
symbol here;
'Tis but the fool that loves eXccss-hast thou
drunken soul
Thy bane is in thy shallow skull, not in my silver
love the memory Of the past-its pressed yet
fragrant flowers
The moss that clothes its broken walls the ivy
on its towers
Nay, this poor bauble it bequeathed- my eyes
grow moist and dim
To think of all the vanished joys that danced
around its brim.
Then fill fair and honest cup, and bear it
straight to me-
The goblet hallows all it holds whate'er the
liquid be;
And may the cherubs on its face protect me from
the sin,
That dooms one to those dreadful words-"My
dear, where hare you been?'