 | Memorials of Miss Catherine Maria Fanshawe |  |
XIV. Answer to a Letter from the Hon. Mrs. Pole Carew, in which she had said:—
“I am very happy, and care every day less for poetry and painting,
and more for cookery and poultry.” —From Antony.
Blest be the day that on your book of life
Stamp't the fair title of a happy wife!
Blest be the hand that, arm'd with virtuous rage,
Tore thence, or cancell'd, every useless page,
Renounc'd the pomps of vanities and wit,
Poultry inscribed where Poetry was writ,
Painting (unprofitable art) effaced,
And gave to Cookery all your thoughts on taste;
Who deck those altars, feed no transient flame,
Nor solid pudding change for empty fame.
May each revolving year your joys increase,
With added flocks of guinea fowls and geese;
On countless eggs may ducks and pigeons sit!
And all attain the honours of the spit!
Chickens in multitudes be hatch'd, and oh!
May no chill autumn lay your turkies low;
Their tender lives, ye felon foxes, spare!
Make them, ye poultry maids, your hourly care!
So their plump forms your Christmas feasts shall crown,
Well trussed and roasted of a lively brown;
Boiling is spoiling; but, if boil they must,
To insipidity itself be just.
O'er their pale limbs be creamy currents pour'd,
And the rich sauce stand plenteous on your board;
See round your shores th' instructive lesson float,
Within the oyster, and without the boat;
Ocean your measure, but avoid its fault;
Make not your sauce so thin, nor half so salt.
Stamp't the fair title of a happy wife!
Blest be the hand that, arm'd with virtuous rage,
Tore thence, or cancell'd, every useless page,
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Poultry inscribed where Poetry was writ,
Painting (unprofitable art) effaced,
And gave to Cookery all your thoughts on taste;
Who deck those altars, feed no transient flame,
Nor solid pudding change for empty fame.
May each revolving year your joys increase,
With added flocks of guinea fowls and geese;
On countless eggs may ducks and pigeons sit!
And all attain the honours of the spit!
Chickens in multitudes be hatch'd, and oh!
May no chill autumn lay your turkies low;
Their tender lives, ye felon foxes, spare!
Make them, ye poultry maids, your hourly care!
So their plump forms your Christmas feasts shall crown,
Well trussed and roasted of a lively brown;
Boiling is spoiling; but, if boil they must,
To insipidity itself be just.
O'er their pale limbs be creamy currents pour'd,
And the rich sauce stand plenteous on your board;
See round your shores th' instructive lesson float,
Within the oyster, and without the boat;
Ocean your measure, but avoid its fault;
Make not your sauce so thin, nor half so salt.
Happy, whom thus domestic pleasures fix,
Blest with one husband, and with many chicks
Blest with one husband, and with many chicks
| Memorials of Miss Catherine Maria Fanshawe | |