My favourite historical warning about the danger so drink come from the 1000 year old Persian poem, The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. It’s a great yarn about the different stages an alcoholic goes through until he finally ends up mad howling at the night sky. A few verses:
You know, my Friends, how long since in my House
For a new Marriage I did make Carouse:
Divorced old barren Reason from my Bed,
And took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse.
Yesterday This Day's Madness did prepare;
To-morrow's Silence, Triumph, or Despair:
Drink! for you know not whence you came, nor why:
Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.
And much as Wine has play'd the Infidel,
And robb'd me of my Robe of Honour--Well,
I wonder often what the Vintners buy
One half so precious as the stuff they sell.
God Bless
