The Deipnosophists (2.10)

On which account Bacchylides says:—

Sweet force, from wine proceeding,

Now warms my soul with love,

And on my spirit leading,

With hopes my heart does move.

It drives dull care away,

And laughs at walls and towers;

And bids us think and say,

That all the world is ours.

The man who drinks plenty of wine,

Will never for wealth be wishing;

For his cellar's a ceaseless mine,

And an undisturb'd heart he is rich in.

Drinking is a cure for woe.

Fruit of the field, which makes the heart to leap.

Let generous food supplies of strength produce,

Let rising spirits flow from sprightly juice,

Let their warm heads with scenes of battle glow,[*]