Or zephyr's wing, that from the orange groves
Brushes the breeze with rich perfumes replete,
More aromatic or reviving smell
To nostrils bring? Or can the glassy streams
Of Pactolus, that o'er his golden sands
Delightful glide, the luscious drops outvie
That from thy sides embrown'd unnumber'd fall?
Behold, at thy approach, what smiles serene
Beam from the ravish'd guests!-Still are their
tongues,
While they, with whetted instruments, prepare
For deep incision.-Now the abscess bleeds,
And the devouring band, with stomachs keen,
And glutting rage, thy beauteous form destroy;
Leave you a skeleton marrowless and bare,
A prey to dunghills, or vexatious sport
Of torrent rushing from defilement's urns,
That o'er the city's flinty pavement hurls.
So fares it with the man, whose powerful pelf
Once could command respect. Caress'd by all,
His bounties were as lavish as the hand
Of yellow Ceres, till his stores decay'd;
And then, (O dismal tale!) those precious drops
Of flattery that bedew'd his spring of fortune,
Leave the sad winter of his state so fallen,
Nor nurse the thorn from which they ne'er can hope Again to pluck the odour-dropping rose !
For thee, Roast Beef! in variegated shapes, Have mortals toil'd.-The sailor sternly braves The strength of Boreas, and exulting stands Upon the sea-wash'd deck. With hopes inspir'd Of yet indulging in thy wish'd-for sweets, He smiles amidst the dangers that surround him; Cheerful he steers to cold forbidden climes, Or to the torrid zone explores his way.
Be kind, ye Powers! and still propitious send This paragon of feeding to our halls.
With this regal'd, who would, vain-glorious, wish
For towering pyramids superbly crown'd
With jellies, syllabubs, or ice-creams rare ?
These can amuse the eye, and may bestow
A short-liv'd pleasure to a palate strange;
But, for a moment's pleasure, who would vend
A lifetime that would else be spent in joy,
For hateful loathings, and for gouty rheums,
Ever preceded by indulg'd excess?
Blest be those walls where hospitality
And welcome reign at large! There may you oft
Of social cheer partake, and love, and joy;
Pleasures that to the human mind convey
Ideal pictures of the bliss supreme:
But near the gate where parsimony dwells,
Where ceremony cool, with brow austere,
Confronts the guests, ne'er let thy foot approach!
Depriv'd of thee, heaven-born benevolence!
What is life's garden but a devious wild,
Through which the traveller must pass forlorn,
Unguided by the aid of friendship's ray?
Rather, if poverty hold converse with thee,
To the lone garret's lofty bield ascend,
Or dive to some sad cell:thére have recourse
To meagre offals, where, though small thy fare,
Freedom shall wing thee to a purer joy
Than banquets with superfluous dainties crown'd,
Mix'd with reserve and coolness, can afford.
But, if your better fortunes have prepar'd
Your purse with ducats, and with health your frame,
Assemble, friends! and to the tavern straight,
Where the officious drawer, bending low,
Is passive to a fault. Then, nor the Signior Grand,
Nor Russia's Empress, signaliz'd for war,
Can govern with more arbitrary sway.
Ye who, for health, for exercise, for air,
Oft saunter from Edina's smoke-capt spires,
And, by the grassy hill, or dimpled brook,
An appetite revive, should often stray
O'er Arthur-Seat's green pastures, to the town
For sheepheads and bone-bridges fam'd of yore,
That in our country's annals stands yclept
Fair Duddingstonia, where you may be bless'd
With simple fare and vegetable sweets,
Freed from the clamours of the busy world.
Or if for recreation you should stray
To Leithian shore, and breathe the keener air
Wafted from Neptune's empire of the main ;
If appetite invite, and cash prevail,
Ply not your joints upon the homeward track,
Till Lawson, chiefest of the Scottish hosts!
To nimble-footed waiters give command
The cloth to lay.-Instinctively they come;
And, lo! the table, wrapt in cloudy steams,
Groans with the weight of the transporting fare
That breathes frankincense on the guests around.
Now, while stern Winter holds his frigid sway,
And to a period spins the closing year;
While festivals abound, and sportive hours
Kill the remembrance of our waning time,
Let not intemperance, destructive fiend!
Gain entrance to your halls.-Despoil'd by him,
Shall cloyed appetite, forerunner sad
Of rank disease, inveterate clasp your frame :
Contentment shall no more be known to spread
Her cherub wings round thy once happy dwelling,
But misery of thought, and racking pain,
Shall plunge you headlong to the dark abyss.
YE maidens modest! on whose sullen brows
Hath weaning chastity her wrinkles cull'd;
Who constant labour o'er consumptive oil,
At midnight knell, to wash sleep's nightly balm
From closing eyelids, with the grateful drops
Of Tea's bless'd juices; list th' obsequious lays,
That come not, with Parnassian honours crown'd,
To dwell in murmurs o'er your sleepy sense;
But, fresh from Orient blown, to chase far off
Your lethargy; that dormant needles rous'd
May pierce the waving mantua's silken folds.
For many a dame, in chamber sadly pent,
Hath this reviving liquor call'd to life:
And well it did, to mitigate the frowns
Of anger, reddening on Lucinda's brow
With flash malignant, that had harbour'd there,
If she at masquerade, or play, or ball,
Appear'd not in her newest, best attire.
But Venus, goddess of the eternal smile,
Knowing that stormy brows but ill become
Fair patterns of her beauty, hath ordain'd
Celestial Tea;-a fountain that can cure
The ills of passion, and can free from frowns,
And sobs, and sighs, the disappointed fair.
To her, ye fair! in adoration bow;
Whether at blushing morn or dewy eve
Her smoking cordials greet your fragrant board,
With Hyson, or Bohea, or Congou crown'd.
At midnight skies, ye mantua-makers! hail
The sacred offering: For the haughty belles
No longer can upbraid your lingering hands,
With trains upborne aloft by dusty gales
That sweep the ball-room. Swift they glide along,
And, with their sailing streamers, catch the eye
Of some Adonis, mark'd to love a prey;
Whose bosom ne'er had panted with a sigh,
But for the silken draperies that enclose
Graces from fancy's eye but ill conceal'd.
Mark well the fair! observe their modest eye,
With all the innocence of beauty bless'd :
Could slander o'er that tongue its power retain
Whose breath is music?-Ah, fallacious thought!
The surface is ambrosia's mingled sweets;
But all below is death. At tea-board met,
Attend their prattling tongues;-they scoff-they
rail
Unbounded: but their darts are chiefly aim'd
At some gay fair, whose beauties far eclipse
Her dim beholders, who, with haggard eyes,
Would blight those charms where raptures long
have dwelt
In ecstasy, delighted and suffic'd.
In vain hath beauty, with her varied robe,
Bestow'd her glowing blushes o'er her cheeks,
And call'd attendant graces to her aid,
To blend the scarlet and the lily fair:
In vain did Venus in her favourite mould
Adapt the slender form to Cupid's choice:
When slander comes, her blasts too fatal prove;
Pale are those cheeks where youth and beauty
Where smiles, where freshness, and where roses grew:
Ghastly and wan their Gorgon picture comes,
With every fury grinning from the looks
Of frightful monster. Envy's hissing tongue
With deepest vengeance wounds, and every wound
With deeper canker, deeper poison, teems.
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