Bacchus, that first from out the purple grape,
Crushed the sweet poison of misused wine.
– John Milton, English poet, (1608-1674) in Comus

More Entries
- Wine, one sip of this will bathe the drooping spirits in delight beyond the bliss
- When night darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons of
- Your body automatically will reject what it feels is poison
- Serving-boy, fill for me stronger cups of old Falernian, since Postumia, the mistress’s, laws demand it,
- Wine experts can’t resist making predictions. In 1990
- I like sweet wines. My idea has always been that when you’re young
- Say for what were hopyards meant. Or why was Burton built on Trent
- Then to the spicy nut-brown ale.
- One sip of this Will bathe the drooping spirits in delight,
- I know Bacchus, the god of wine, for he smells of nectar