Wheeling daily intelligencer. [volume] (Wheeling, Va. [W. Va.]) 1852-1859, 1858-12-20

AiS s5OOu 10 OrueT ult.and-alfi-
10 watch the freight on the metal.
And laugh hearty English laugh;
Or even sip of Bourbon whisky
Can raise hundred phantomS clear
vi days when boyish blood was risky,
And no one heard of Lager Bier.
We've smoked in Summer with oscanyan,
Cross. legged in that defunct bazaar,
Until above our heads the banyan
Or pam'tree seemed to spread afar;
And then, and there have drunk his sherbet,
-, Tinct with the perfumes of Cashmere
That orient calm who would disturb it
With Norseland calls for Lager Bier?
There's chocolat.a-tasses at Mendes'-
Divinest on an opera night
And often, with brace of Londres,
YIN OrdindiTe is our delight;
Yet of all bibulous compoundings,
Extracts or brewings, mixed or clear,
The best, in substance and surroundings,
For frequent use, is Lager Bier.
Karl Schaeffer is stalwart brewer.
Who hath above his vaults hall,
e-fresh-taPped, foaming, cool and pure
He serves the nectar out to ALL
Tom Raney, have you any money?
Why then, we'll leave this hemisphere
This Western land of milk and honey
For one that flows with Lager Bier
Go, faxen-haired and blue.eyed maiden,
My German Hebe, hasten through
Hon smoke cloud and return thou laden
With bread and cheese and bier for two.
Bring for my comrade here Limberger;
His brow is high-his taste severe;
The milder Schweitzer prefer to
Eat with my bread and Lager Bier.
oh yes! the Schweitzer hath SAVIOR
OfmoIoram aud mountain thyme
An oderiferous, Alpine favor;
You almost hear the cow-bells chino
While eating it or-dying faintly--
The Rans-6es-aoGcles entrance the ear,
Until you feel quite Swiss and Saintly,
Above your glass ofLager Bier.
Here comessour drink, fruth-crowned andsunlit.
In goblets with high-curving arms,
Drawn from newly opened runIet--
AS Bier must be, TO have its charms
This primal portion each shall swallow
at ono draught, for pioneer;
And thus ritual usage follow
Ofall who honor Lager Bier
Glass after glass, in due succession,
Till, borne through midriff heart and brain,
He mounts his throne and takes possession
The genial Spirit of the grain!
Ihen comes the old BerSerIir madness,
To make each man priest and seer,
And, with Scandinavian gladness,
Drink deeper draughts of Lager Bier!
Go, maiden, fill again our glassesl
While, with annointed eyes, we can
The blouse Teutonic lads and lasscs-
The SaXon-PruSs-Eohem
The sanded hoor-the cross-beamed gables
The ancient Flemish paintings quecr-
The rusty cup stains on the tables
The terraced kegs of Lager Gier.
And is it Gottingeu, or Gotha,
Or Munich's ancient Wagner Brei,
Where each Bavarian drinks his quota,
And swings silver tankard highg
| Or some ancestral Gast-Haus lofty
In Nuremburgh-of(a famous cheer,
| When Hans Sachs lived, and where, so soft, he
Sang loud the praise of Lager Bier?
For even now some curious glamour
Has brought about misty chancei
Things look, as in n moonlight dream, or
A magic mirror, quaint and strange;
Some wierd phantasmaSoric notion
Impcls us backward mnny year,
And far across the Northern Ocean
To Fatherlands of Lager Bier
As odd thing see before us,
As ever haunted Brockcn's blight,
Carousing with unearthly chorus,
On any wild Walpurgis night;
| see the wondrous art creationl
In proper guise they all appear,
And, in their due and several stations
Unite in drinking Lager Bier.
sec in yonder nook trio:
| There's Doctor Faust, and, by his side,
/ Not half SO love-dstraught as do,
Is gentle Margaret, heaven eyed
That man in black beyond the waiter
I know him by his fiendish leer-
Is Mephistophles the traitor!
And how he swigs his Lager Bicrl
Strange if Goethe should have blundcred,
Who says that Margaret slpt aud fell
In Ammo Domini Sixteen Hundred;
Or thereabouts, and Faustus - we'll
| We won't deplore his resurrection,
Since Margaret is with him here,
But under her serene protection
May boldly drink our Lager Bier.
That barc-Iegged gypsy, small and lithy,
/ Tanned like an olive by the sun,
| Is little Mignon; sing us, prithce,
| feRnst du dds LHRt, my pretty one,
All, mol she shakes her Southern tresses
As half in doubt, and more in fear;
Perhaps the elfish creature guesses
We've had too much of Lager Bier.
There moves-fnll-bOdieed, ripe and human
With merry smiles to all who come,
Karl SchaefFer's wife-the very woman
Whom Rubens drew his Venus font