O for a draught of vintage! that hath been
Cool'd a long age in the deep-delvèd earth,
Tasting of Flora and the country-green,
Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth!
O for a beaker full of the warm South!
Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,
With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,
And purple-stainèd mouth;
That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,
And with thee fade away into the forest dim …
Clearly Keats liked his spirits, but the Hippocrene doesn’t hold artesian water for making special beer (remember the old Olympia commercial?). I had to look it up, but the Hippocrene is a source of water on Mount Helicon in Greece, said to have sprung from the hoofprints of Pegasus. Thus the association of fountains with winged horses, as in this fountain at a resort in the Bahamas: