Medulla Poetarum Romanorum Or, the Most Beautiful and Instructive Passages of the Roman Poets. Being a Collection, (Disposed under proper Heads,) Of such Descriptions, Allusions, Comparisons, Characters, and Sentiments, as may best serve to shew the Religion, Learning, Politicks, Arts, Customs, Opinions, Manners, and Circumstances of the Antients. With Translations of the same in English Verse. By Mr. Henry Baker |
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Gluttony.
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 | Medulla Poetarum Romanorum |  |
Gluttony.
See Extravagance. Luxury.
Whether it be in little Things or great,
Suit thy Expences still to thy Estate;
And if thy Purse a Turbot can't afford,
Sit down, and be content with humble Cod.
For what must be thy miserable End,
If Gluttony and Want at once attend,
When thy voracious Throat has swallow'd all,
Cattle, and Land, Int'rest, and Principal?—
Suit thy Expences still to thy Estate;
And if thy Purse a Turbot can't afford,
Sit down, and be content with humble Cod.
For what must be thy miserable End,
If Gluttony and Want at once attend,
When thy voracious Throat has swallow'd all,
Cattle, and Land, Int'rest, and Principal?—
Preach as I please, I doubt our curious Men,
Will chuse a Pheasant still before a Hen:
And yet a Hen is full as good I hold,
Except you eat the Feathers green and gold.
Of Carps and Mullets why prefer the great,
Will chuse a Pheasant still before a Hen:
431
Except you eat the Feathers green and gold.
(Tho' cut in Pieces e'er my Lord can eat)
Yet for small Turbots such Esteem profess?
Because God made these large, the other less.—
When the tir'd Glutton labours thro' a Treat,
He'll find no Relish in the sweetest Meat,
He calls for something bitter, something sour,
And the rich Feast concludes extreamly poor:
Cheap Eggs, and Herbs, and Olives still we see,
Thus much is left of old Simplicity!—
He'll find no Relish in the sweetest Meat,
He calls for something bitter, something sour,
And the rich Feast concludes extreamly poor:
Cheap Eggs, and Herbs, and Olives still we see,
Thus much is left of old Simplicity!—
The Robin-red-Breast till of late had rest,
And Children sacred held a Martin's Nest,
Till Becca-ficos sold so dev'lish dear,
To one that was, or would have been, a Peer.—
Observe how pale, how sickly, ev'ry Guest,
And Children sacred held a Martin's Nest,
Till Becca-ficos sold so dev'lish dear,
To one that was, or would have been, a Peer.—
Reels from the Surfeit of a sumptuous Feast:
The Body overloaded with Excess,
Is sunk itself, and does the Mind oppress:
Nor can the Soul, altho' of heav'nly Birth,
Shake off the Load that fixes it to Earth.—
'Tis yet in vain, I own, to keep a Pother
About one Vice, and fall into the other:
Between Excess and Famine lies a Mean,
Plain, but not sordid: tho' not splendid, clean.
He knows to live, who keeps the middle State,
And neither leans on this Side, nor on that.—
| Medulla Poetarum Romanorum | |