The Deadly Old Decanter

There was an old decan-
ter, and its mouth was
gaping wide; the
rosy wine had
ebbed away,
and left
its crys-
tal side;
and the wind
went humming--
humming
up and
down; the
sides it flew;
and through the
reed-like,
hollow neck
the wildest notes it
blew. I placed it in the
window, where the blast was
blowing free, and fancied that its
pale mouth sang the queerest strains to
me. "They tell me--puny conquerors! the
Plague has slain his ten, and War his hundred
thousands of the very best of men; but I "--'twas
thus the Bottle spoke--"but I have conquer'd
more than all your famous conquerors, so
fear'd and famed of yore. Then come, ye
youths and maidens all, come drink from
out my cup the beverage that dulls the
brain, and burns the spirits up; that puts
to shame your conquerors that slay their
scores below; for this has deluged mil-
lions with the lava tide of woe. Though
in the path of battle dark streams of
blood may roll; yet while I kill'd
the body, I have damn'd the ve-
ry soul. The cholera, the plague,
the sword, such ruin never wro't
as I, in mirth or malice, on the
innocent have brought. And
still I breathe upon them,
and they shrink before
my breath, and year by year my
thousands tread the dismal way of death."

Source: Linden Harp: a rare collection of popular melodies adapted to sacred and moral songs, original and selected. Illustrated. Also a manual of... #63