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Bubbly libations can also bridge the gap for wine lovers.
FLORAL TRIBUTE: African dancers, accompanied by musicians, inset, right, throw flowers in to the River Mersey at the Libation ceremony, down at the Albert Dock, to remember African ancestors
Chief Angus Chukuemeka leads guests through the rain to the liberation ceremony Henry Olonga African chief Angus Chukuemeka began the libation on the River Mersey by the Piermaster's house.
A libation cup is used for the ritual pouring of a drink as an offering to a god or deity.
All are extremely desirable and rare and that's why a the staggering sum pounds 108,000 was paid for a signed libation cup in rhinoceros horn at Bonhams from the early 17th century.
And when it comes to holiday libations, we prefer those seasonal stalwarts: mulled wine or hot buttered rum.
Steve Van Doren smuggled in copious amounts of contraband libation for the troops.
But in the same lot was a 'famille rose' porcelain libation cup - 18th century, as stated, with pretty scenes of ladies and children.
And, have they yet achieved Nirvana by coupling their new favourite libation with a bag of greasy chips and a pickled onion?
A study finds that diabetes sufferers who enjoy an occasional libation, compared with those who eschew alcohol, have just half the risk of dying from coronary artery disease.
The general layout of the complex with its 'white rooms' and 'corridor-encircled courtyards', the remains of ephedra and hemp, and the ceramic supports and strainers, as well as stone grates and bone libation tubes, all provide support for the idea that the excavations in the Southern Gonur fortress represent a shrine associated with the preparation of hallucinogenic cult beverages and libations.
I close my eyes, but the same scene plays over: Above the victim's head the priest suspends A blade, light plays cleanly upon bronze, The sun beats down, the confused heifer lows, The pipe shrills, the bright libation flows, Those of the faithful with weak nerves look away, The blue paint splashed beneath a glowing sky Bleeds across the harbor to the bobbing skiff Whose white sail shows above the green head cliff, Moves around the point, and seems to freeze in time The unison hymn of sailors who forget All that they know but their songs' chiming, Chanting as we did when poetry was young, Trying not to think too much about the deeps, Our fear of death, and this abandoned town Which itself has lost all memory of The qualities of life vacated when we die.