The Miser's Feast The Eighth Satire of the Second Book of Horace Imitated. A Dialogue between The Author and the Poet Laureat [by George Ogle] |
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THE MISER's FEAST. THE EIGHTH SATIRE OF THE Second BOOK of HORACE Imitated.
A DIALOGUE BETWEEN The Author and the Poet Laureat.
Nonne libet medio ceras implere capaces
Quadrivio: cum jam sexta service feratur
Hinc atque inde patens, ac nudâ pene cathedra,
Et multum referens de Mecænate supino
Signator, falso qui se cautum atque beatum
Exiguis tabulis & gemma fecerat uda?
Juv. Sat. I.
Quadrivio: cum jam sexta service feratur
Hinc atque inde patens, ac nudâ pene cathedra,
Et multum referens de Mecænate supino
Signator, falso qui se cautum atque beatum
Exiguis tabulis & gemma fecerat uda?
Juv. Sat. I.
Wou'd it not make a peaceful poet write,
Indite, ev'n in the Commons, and indite;
His injur'd eyes shou'd some black chariot fix,
Attended by three horse, and drawn by six;
Where like Mecænas, lolling at his ease,
With glasses drawn, the dext'rous knave he sees;
Who cancel'd an old will, and forg'd a new,
The wax still hot, the signing moist as Dew!
Indite, ev'n in the Commons, and indite;
His injur'd eyes shou'd some black chariot fix,
Attended by three horse, and drawn by six;
Where like Mecænas, lolling at his ease,
With glasses drawn, the dext'rous knave he sees;
Who cancel'd an old will, and forg'd a new,
The wax still hot, the signing moist as Dew!
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Well, Laureat, was the day in clover spent?
How far'd you with the Priest? the Priest of Trent?
A chearful friend, desirous to invite,
I heard you was engag'd for noon and night.
Plenty of meat and wine, no doubt, you found,
Now he has made a hundred thousand pound.
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Such treatment! (cou'd my mem'ry keep the score)
As never in my life I found before.
An entertainment, so exact and rare;
Wou'd I had copied the whole bill of fare!
Author.
Then, not to load you with too large a weight,
Say, was you serv'd on pewter, or on plate?
What was your first remove, of fowl or fish?
Or recollect, at least, the standing dish?
Poet Laureat.
The service was of silver, as I think;
But old of fashion, and as black as ink.
Before his good friend's wife a haunch was set,
“From Sherwood sent, and of a right fumet.”
The dish with capors and horseradish grac'd;
All that could stimulate the deaden'd taste.
The plain Terrene a plumy fallad crown'd,
With mushrooms, olives, mangoes, garnish'd round.
Side-plates of turnips, carrots, greens, replete;
Oil and anchove, vinegar and bete.
“'Twas kill'd at night, and brought a hundred miles,
“The wind at south, which tenders, but not spoils!
“'Tis larded, and seems lean—but then you know
“French cooks, with her own fat, still lard the doe.
“Chuse you this sauce or that? Be pleas'd to eat
“Gravy or jelly? savory or sweet?”
Thus flourishes the master of the feast;
But none distrusts his nose, who knew the Priest.
But old of fashion, and as black as ink.
Before his good friend's wife a haunch was set,
“From Sherwood sent, and of a right fumet.”
The dish with capors and horseradish grac'd;
All that could stimulate the deaden'd taste.
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With mushrooms, olives, mangoes, garnish'd round.
Side-plates of turnips, carrots, greens, replete;
Oil and anchove, vinegar and bete.
“'Twas kill'd at night, and brought a hundred miles,
“The wind at south, which tenders, but not spoils!
“'Tis larded, and seems lean—but then you know
“French cooks, with her own fat, still lard the doe.
“Chuse you this sauce or that? Be pleas'd to eat
“Gravy or jelly? savory or sweet?”
Thus flourishes the master of the feast;
But none distrusts his nose, who knew the Priest.
Mean time the boy, as second plates go round,
His neck with crape of his good master bound,
(Thus spruc'd, from rubbing horses at an inn)
With fragments fills the basket lin'd with tin.
Imagine not (the reason if you seek)
To feast the family from week to week;
No! to lay up in heav'n a larger store;
For, but believe him, 'tis to feed the poor.
His neck with crape of his good master bound,
(Thus spruc'd, from rubbing horses at an inn)
With fragments fills the basket lin'd with tin.
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To feast the family from week to week;
No! to lay up in heav'n a larger store;
For, but believe him, 'tis to feed the poor.
Alike, his neat exactness to commend,
That nought be left to waste or to offend,
From side-board call'd, the coachman-butler comes,
And grubs, from huckaback, the scatter'd crumbs;
“With damask napkin, Wrought in Irish loom,
“And sprinkled (says our host) with wet perfume.”
But 'twas a scent so grateful to the nose
Nought cou'd exceed the compound, but his toes!
That nought be left to waste or to offend,
From side-board call'd, the coachman-butler comes,
And grubs, from huckaback, the scatter'd crumbs;
“With damask napkin, Wrought in Irish loom,
“And sprinkled (says our host) with wet perfume.”
But 'twas a scent so grateful to the nose
Nought cou'd exceed the compound, but his toes!
Then grim Gaboon, his valet at command,
Sneeks round and round, with salver in his hand;
(Not his own brother, with such hanging look,
And shuffling gate, step'd forth to kiss the book.)
Him Michael follows, with deliberate tread;
And one deals out the white, and one the red.
Ask you what wine? oh! what? but brisk Champaine,
Neat Burgundy, that never cross'd the main!
Sneeks round and round, with salver in his hand;
(Not his own brother, with such hanging look,
And shuffling gate, step'd forth to kiss the book.)
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And one deals out the white, and one the red.
Ask you what wine? oh! what? but brisk Champaine,
Neat Burgundy, that never cross'd the main!
On this our vap'ring Landlord takes the word;
And “Sir (he blunders) I wou'd say my Lord!
“Your Grace! My best of Patrons, and of Friends!
“Taste both”. (and both he highly recommends)
“But some require, the stomach to support,
“And brace the nerves, strong mountain, or full port.
“With these our little vaults are amply stor'd,
“Poor plenty! such as Parsons can afford!
And “Sir (he blunders) I wou'd say my Lord!
“Your Grace! My best of Patrons, and of Friends!
“Taste both”. (and both he highly recommends)
“But some require, the stomach to support,
“And brace the nerves, strong mountain, or full port.
“With these our little vaults are amply stor'd,
“Poor plenty! such as Parsons can afford!
Author.
The wretch spoke like himself, it is allow'd;
Sordidly gen'rous! servile, and yet proud!
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What was your company, as well as chear?
Poet Laureat.
First Madam, as before, the table grac'd;
Mæcenas at her carving hand was plac'd.
Next Balatro, Vibidius took his seat;
Mæcenas brought them to enjoy the treat.
Then on her left, your Servant; Varius then;
Then Viscus; a full compliment of ten!
For last the Priest, with back against the light,
D---t on his left, and G---b---s on his right.
Mæcenas at her carving hand was plac'd.
Next Balatro, Vibidius took his seat;
Mæcenas brought them to enjoy the treat.
Then on her left, your Servant; Varius then;
Then Viscus; a full compliment of ten!
For last the Priest, with back against the light,
D---t on his left, and G---b---s on his right.
This special pair the Doctor still attend;
Each as his flatt'rer, lawyer, witness, friend. [OMITTED]
D---t, a shrew'd spark, demure as at a meeting,
One turn'd to prove the pudden by the eating;
As well to sate his rage, as pay his court;
Not Dummy's Guest so true a fund of sport!
While, long and lank, he makes an ostrich Stoop,
And swallows a whole custard at a swoop.
Each as his flatt'rer, lawyer, witness, friend. [OMITTED]
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One turn'd to prove the pudden by the eating;
As well to sate his rage, as pay his court;
Not Dummy's Guest so true a fund of sport!
While, long and lank, he makes an ostrich Stoop,
And swallows a whole custard at a swoop.
G---b---s the pow'rs of unknown sauce explor'd,
And index'd every dainty round the board;
And this how drest! and that how rare! explain'd,
With finger deep in ink, full deeply, stain'd:
For we seem'd all to own, that every dish,
Whether of roast or boil'd, of fowl or fish,
(We! whom he held the unenlighten'd crew!)
Conceal'd a different taste from what we knew.
A truth he soon oblig'd me to attest;
While, crossing ev'ry intervening guest,
Full on my plate a roasted crab he lays;
With smelt of turbot stuff'd, and roe of plaice!
For 'twas, as he affirm'd, and might have swore,
Such as, in truth, I never touch'd before.
And index'd every dainty round the board;
And this how drest! and that how rare! explain'd,
With finger deep in ink, full deeply, stain'd:
For we seem'd all to own, that every dish,
Whether of roast or boil'd, of fowl or fish,
(We! whom he held the unenlighten'd crew!)
Conceal'd a different taste from what we knew.
A truth he soon oblig'd me to attest;
While, crossing ev'ry intervening guest,
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With smelt of turbot stuff'd, and roe of plaice!
For 'twas, as he affirm'd, and might have swore,
Such as, in truth, I never touch'd before.
Then strait he taught the times for greens or roots,
What best for garden, what for orchard fruits;
“Pluck non-pareils, he cries, with moon at wane,
“So shall they long preserve a crimson stain!”
But what great use in that discov'ry lies,
He, or his Master, only can devise!
“For all these niceties, the Slave proceeds,
“The Doctor has as pat as all his creeds.
What best for garden, what for orchard fruits;
“Pluck non-pareils, he cries, with moon at wane,
“So shall they long preserve a crimson stain!”
But what great use in that discov'ry lies,
He, or his Master, only can devise!
“For all these niceties, the Slave proceeds,
“The Doctor has as pat as all his creeds.
Vibidius then to Balatro drew near,
And, half aloud, half whisp'ring in his ear;
“Our hour is come! but, with our latest breath,
“Let's persecute the author of our death.
“Without revenge, or pity, we shou'd die,
“Unless we drank this common pois'ner dry—
“Come, to the founder! briskly let it pass!
“Boy, fill me to the top yon half pint glass.
“Good Doctor lend your scrue to free the cork.”
For Sam was drudging at it with a fork.
And, half aloud, half whisp'ring in his ear;
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“Let's persecute the author of our death.
“Without revenge, or pity, we shou'd die,
“Unless we drank this common pois'ner dry—
“Come, to the founder! briskly let it pass!
“Boy, fill me to the top yon half pint glass.
“Good Doctor lend your scrue to free the cork.”
For Sam was drudging at it with a fork.
'Twas then a deadly pale his face o'erspread;
For, of all guests, the toper was his dread.
Not for the cause you readily assign;
“Not, on his faith, that he begrudg'd his wine;
“But that the appetite full glasses wrong,
“And blind the taste, and much mislead the tongue.”
For, of all guests, the toper was his dread.
Not for the cause you readily assign;
“Not, on his faith, that he begrudg'd his wine;
“But that the appetite full glasses wrong,
“And blind the taste, and much mislead the tongue.”
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And once his own example prov'd the rule;
For wine once show'd the man, half knave! half fool!
A knave is always fool; wine drew the veil:
All Nottingham is witness to the tale.
Where, high exalted with election liquor,
The steadfast Priest produc'd a turncoat vicar;
Then first his little arts were known to fail;
For Burgundy had over-pow'r'd his ale;
And, but in honour of the cloth, his Grace,
Had thrown the level'd bumper in his face:
His gesture, speech, so petulant, so pert!
Had he been stripp'd and lash'd, 'twas his desert.
For wine once show'd the man, half knave! half fool!
A knave is always fool; wine drew the veil:
All Nottingham is witness to the tale.
Where, high exalted with election liquor,
The steadfast Priest produc'd a turncoat vicar;
Then first his little arts were known to fail;
For Burgundy had over-pow'r'd his ale;
And, but in honour of the cloth, his Grace,
Had thrown the level'd bumper in his face:
His gesture, speech, so petulant, so pert!
Had he been stripp'd and lash'd, 'twas his desert.
Vibidius thus gave Balatro the cue;
He takes the jest; and all the jest pursue;
So, round, and round again, the glass we ply'd,
Till ev'ry flask lay dead upon it's side.
All, did I say? no! 'twas a great mistake;
The lower house not one reprisal make.
They watch'd the Priest, who look'd in doleful plight,
And sat, like, statues on his left and right.
He takes the jest; and all the jest pursue;
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Till ev'ry flask lay dead upon it's side.
All, did I say? no! 'twas a great mistake;
The lower house not one reprisal make.
They watch'd the Priest, who look'd in doleful plight,
And sat, like, statues on his left and right.
Mean time the second course before us lies,
And first, a dish of most enormous size;
On either side a long lank codling spread,
One dripping sauce at tail, and one at head;
Between them swims a turbot, small and black,
Half-drown'd in oil; five shrimps upon her back.
When thus our Landlord, (twinkling half an eye)
“This fish is full of roe, in season, high!
“Not shotten herring worse, in winter drawn,
“Than turbot, when she once has spent her spawn.
“Mix'd with these shrimps (un-boil'd when they were bought)
“'Twas butter of the best, from Cambridge brought.
“(Cambridge! my alma mater, candid proctor,
“Who gave me, by my proxy, name of doctor)
“Then oyster liquor, an improvement rare!
“More sav'ry far, than catchop, or cavare;
“With neat French white-wine, but full five years old,
“The quantum what a Florence-flask may hold;
“This us'd in dressing; but, when fully drest,
“A glass of Sherry; Sherry then is best.
“And last, the lazy palate to excite,
“Six grains of pepper, not the black, but white;
“With vinegar, no sow'r of foreign vine,
“But homebred change of elderberry wine.
“I was the man, who jugg'd in earthern ware,
“And first, in her own gravy, stew'd the hare.
“As Hendal was the first who brought in use,
“Crawfish alive, and sav'd their nat'ral juice.
“Due praise to Hendal, where his taste is shown;
“I lessen no man's worth to raise my own.
And first, a dish of most enormous size;
On either side a long lank codling spread,
One dripping sauce at tail, and one at head;
Between them swims a turbot, small and black,
Half-drown'd in oil; five shrimps upon her back.
When thus our Landlord, (twinkling half an eye)
“This fish is full of roe, in season, high!
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“Than turbot, when she once has spent her spawn.
“Mix'd with these shrimps (un-boil'd when they were bought)
“'Twas butter of the best, from Cambridge brought.
“(Cambridge! my alma mater, candid proctor,
“Who gave me, by my proxy, name of doctor)
“Then oyster liquor, an improvement rare!
“More sav'ry far, than catchop, or cavare;
“With neat French white-wine, but full five years old,
“The quantum what a Florence-flask may hold;
“This us'd in dressing; but, when fully drest,
“A glass of Sherry; Sherry then is best.
“And last, the lazy palate to excite,
“Six grains of pepper, not the black, but white;
“With vinegar, no sow'r of foreign vine,
“But homebred change of elderberry wine.
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“And first, in her own gravy, stew'd the hare.
“As Hendal was the first who brought in use,
“Crawfish alive, and sav'd their nat'ral juice.
“Due praise to Hendal, where his taste is shown;
“I lessen no man's worth to raise my own.
As thus the Priest, smooth-worded and smooth-fac'd,
Display'd at once his eloquence and taste;
Sam, out-ward bound, for door mistakes the wall,
And scarce the shock'd partition saves his fall;
For, tho' his left secur'd the chine of mutton,
His strong right-hand bore down Sir William Su---tt---n;
Who down the leaf, and down the table bore;
Knives, forks, and plates, and dishes strew the floor.
A length of loosen'd tap'stry wraps us round,
And well the Priest the subject cou'd expound;
For bathing, here, the bare Susanna lies;
There, either elder lurks with goatish eyes.
It fell, and rais'd a cloud as thick and dark,
As if both horse and foot tore up the park.
So have I seen, where bright reviews extend,
Sudden th'impetuous hurricanes descend
Wheel thro' the air, in circling eddies play,
And bear whole ranks of powder'd youth away;
The trav'ling sempstress marks, with vast surprise,
Swords, guns, drums, trumpets, darken in her eyes,
And, smother'd, from the dusty whirlwind flies
When now we found, recover'd of our fears,
The damag'd house not falling round our ears,
Soon from beneath the dirty veil we rise;
(Nurs'ry of spiders, buggs, and fleas, and flies!)
And rescue from the dead our routed Host;
Who star'd as if he look'd for Markham's ghost.
The grievous loss unable to withstand,
'Twas then the flowing tears ran down his band;
As if he wept a nephew dead and gone!
For no unmarried parson has a son.
Display'd at once his eloquence and taste;
Sam, out-ward bound, for door mistakes the wall,
And scarce the shock'd partition saves his fall;
For, tho' his left secur'd the chine of mutton,
His strong right-hand bore down Sir William Su---tt---n;
Who down the leaf, and down the table bore;
Knives, forks, and plates, and dishes strew the floor.
A length of loosen'd tap'stry wraps us round,
And well the Priest the subject cou'd expound;
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There, either elder lurks with goatish eyes.
It fell, and rais'd a cloud as thick and dark,
As if both horse and foot tore up the park.
So have I seen, where bright reviews extend,
Sudden th'impetuous hurricanes descend
Wheel thro' the air, in circling eddies play,
And bear whole ranks of powder'd youth away;
The trav'ling sempstress marks, with vast surprise,
Swords, guns, drums, trumpets, darken in her eyes,
And, smother'd, from the dusty whirlwind flies
When now we found, recover'd of our fears,
The damag'd house not falling round our ears,
Soon from beneath the dirty veil we rise;
(Nurs'ry of spiders, buggs, and fleas, and flies!)
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Who star'd as if he look'd for Markham's ghost.
The grievous loss unable to withstand,
'Twas then the flowing tears ran down his band;
As if he wept a nephew dead and gone!
For no unmarried parson has a son.
Perhaps he never more had rais'd his head,
But for wise G---b---s, deep in Baxter read;
Who, thus his sinking friend, attempts to raise,
With scraps of comfort, half in scripture phrase.
“All human blessings molder soon or late!—
“As sure, as unforeseen the hand of fate!—
“On Libanon my angry sword I drew;—
“And over Edom have I cast my shoe!—
“Gird up thy loins! provoke me to the fight!—
“How is the mighty fall'n from all his height!—
“But why shou'd man complain?—For heav'n, you know,
“The lofty humbles, and exalts the low!—
“Grief in the night, joy cometh in the morn!—
“My strength, my rock, my buckler, and my horn!—
But for wise G---b---s, deep in Baxter read;
Who, thus his sinking friend, attempts to raise,
With scraps of comfort, half in scripture phrase.
“All human blessings molder soon or late!—
“As sure, as unforeseen the hand of fate!—
“On Libanon my angry sword I drew;—
“And over Edom have I cast my shoe!—
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“How is the mighty fall'n from all his height!—
“But why shou'd man complain?—For heav'n, you know,
“The lofty humbles, and exalts the low!—
“Grief in the night, joy cometh in the morn!—
“My strength, my rock, my buckler, and my horn!—
His string of texts thus turn'd and misapply'd,
Varius the rising laugh cou'd barely hide;
(Bursting to hear fanatic Sancho quote)
And ramm'd his napkin half way down his throat.
Varius the rising laugh cou'd barely hide;
(Bursting to hear fanatic Sancho quote)
And ramm'd his napkin half way down his throat.
This seeing, Balatro our host addrest,
And none knew better, or to turn a jest,
Or sport a laugh, yet all appearance save,
With words as hum'rous, as his looks were grave.
And none knew better, or to turn a jest,
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With words as hum'rous, as his looks were grave.
“From ev'ry accident instruction springs;
“View, here, the state of sublunary things.
“Fortune, or chance, maliciously ordains,
“That, rarely, your returns reward your pains.
“How can I take in any other sense,
“That you shou'd treat me thus, at vast expence?
“Me, and my friends! and gen'rously invite,
“And pre-ingage us both for noon and night?
“Distract your head with ev'ry houshold care;
“That one shou'd cleanse his feet, one curl his hair?
“Club both your sleeves to breech this country clown,
“And frock him with your own turn'd winter-gown?
“Give your whole cloke to vest yon aukward fellow,
“And double-breast him with your own prunello?
“With your own flaxen wig that sloven deck,
“And dock your surcingle to wrap his neck?
“Ev'n to the beer and bread minutely look?
“Forewarn the butler, and recharge the cook?
“(As was your life at stake, your faith at test)
“That nought improperly be serv'd or drest?
“Yet shall this rogue your whole decorum spoil!
“That all your Cambridge-butter turn to oil!
“Another rascal stare you full in face,
“And, ten times beckon'd, never quit his place!
“Another shame you with improper prate,
“And drop your knife, as he removes your plate!
“Another in your lap your water bear,
“As if he meant to cool you, you know where!
“With sauce the coachman deluge half the room!
“And o'er the cisterns fall the blund'ring groom!
“Add here, this most miraculous descent;
“An ill! no human prudence could prevent!
“Your borrow'd ancestor shall mar the treat,
“And sacred tap'stry finish your defeat.
“View, here, the state of sublunary things.
“Fortune, or chance, maliciously ordains,
“That, rarely, your returns reward your pains.
“How can I take in any other sense,
“That you shou'd treat me thus, at vast expence?
“Me, and my friends! and gen'rously invite,
“And pre-ingage us both for noon and night?
“Distract your head with ev'ry houshold care;
“That one shou'd cleanse his feet, one curl his hair?
“Club both your sleeves to breech this country clown,
“And frock him with your own turn'd winter-gown?
“Give your whole cloke to vest yon aukward fellow,
“And double-breast him with your own prunello?
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“And dock your surcingle to wrap his neck?
“Ev'n to the beer and bread minutely look?
“Forewarn the butler, and recharge the cook?
“(As was your life at stake, your faith at test)
“That nought improperly be serv'd or drest?
“Yet shall this rogue your whole decorum spoil!
“That all your Cambridge-butter turn to oil!
“Another rascal stare you full in face,
“And, ten times beckon'd, never quit his place!
“Another shame you with improper prate,
“And drop your knife, as he removes your plate!
“Another in your lap your water bear,
“As if he meant to cool you, you know where!
“With sauce the coachman deluge half the room!
“And o'er the cisterns fall the blund'ring groom!
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“An ill! no human prudence could prevent!
“Your borrow'd ancestor shall mar the treat,
“And sacred tap'stry finish your defeat.
“Yet, 'tis the same, with militant or priest,
“Him, that commands an army, or a feast;
“His real worth lies cover'd by success,
“To see the hero, take him in distress.
“What else made William, what made Lewis great?
“And think of Xenophon in his retreat?—
“Him, that commands an army, or a feast;
“His real worth lies cover'd by success,
“To see the hero, take him in distress.
“What else made William, what made Lewis great?
“And think of Xenophon in his retreat?—
To this, our host, recov'ring half his face,
(For ev'ry word was cordial to the case)
“Live, Balatro! in ev'ry wish live blest!
“As you're a worthy friend, and chearful guest!
Then tost his sleeve, resum'd his forward air,
Chuckl'd a laugh, and stamp'd, and left his chair.
“Your aid, good madam, let us down and—look!
“Sam, call up Sarah! Sarah, call the cook!”
(For ev'ry word was cordial to the case)
“Live, Balatro! in ev'ry wish live blest!
“As you're a worthy friend, and chearful guest!
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Chuckl'd a laugh, and stamp'd, and left his chair.
“Your aid, good madam, let us down and—look!
“Sam, call up Sarah! Sarah, call the cook!”
Then might you see eye follow eye, and hear
The stifled laughter buz from ear to ear.
The stifled laughter buz from ear to ear.
Author.
One of his comedies! and worth them all!
Better than that he acted at Vaux-hall!
But, pray, proceed, the end I faign wou'd know:
Wou'd I had been spectator of the show!
Laureat.
While gay Vibidius the dull pause supplies,
And stops each haring blund'rer as he flies,
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“That not a glass is fill'd me when I ask?”
And while sly Balatro slurs ev'ry joke,
Feigning as if of foreign things he spoke;
And gall'd slow G---b---s, but delighted D---t;
Who drank and laugh'd, well knowing what was meant:
Enters the Doctor, quite compos'd of face!
Resolv'd with art to cover his disgrace.
The jostling posse croud on either hand;
And first a monstrous gundy crowns the stand:
Garnish'd with onion, salt, flour, lemmon-peal,
The brown of mutton, and the white of veal!
Hash'd duck above, ingag'd my nose and sight,
Serv'd rare at noon, to be ragou'd at night!
Below, was rais'd a tow'r of giblet pies,
“More juicy being less,” (the Doctor cries.)
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“To taste and sight more delicate and rare,
“Than had they serv'd the staring creature whole!
“With tail of salmon, sweeter than the jole!”
And there two plates of fowl, in equal clump,
Snipe without head, and pidgeon without rump.
Nor be forgot (the table to compleat)
Cloth duely turn'd. “Eat, gentlemen, pray eat?”
Sweet fare! but sweeter than his fare the Priest,
Like Palmer sermonizing o'er the feast,
Th'effect and cause, he told, of ev'ry dish:
Whom well we punish'd, well as you cou'd wish.
For now, the service in full order plac'd,
Tho' each was help, yet not a man would taste;
But rising one and all, we fled the room,
As if a double-wedding rais'd the fume;
As if dame G---b---s, full of scent and prate,
Breath'd in each nose, and sputter'd in each plate.
This particular instance of the ill effects of wine, is not, indeed, in the original; but as this is a very notorious example of the rule which Horace makes Nasidienus lay down (in order, it is true, to save his wine, yet, in all other respects, a good precaution against intemperance;)
—Vel quod maledicunt liberius.It is hop'd, the candid reader will indulge the imitator in this sally; which, if he be acquainted with the person meant, he will find intirely just and picturesque.
The best critics upon Horace have observ'd a certain sublime and sonorous turn in this passage. One of them observes that this expression is perfectly epic.
Interea suspensa graves Aulæa ruinas
In patinam fecere.------
In patinam fecere.------
Another, that there is great dignity in what follows;
------Trahentia pulveris atri,
Quantum non Aquilo Campanis excitat agris.
Quantum non Aquilo Campanis excitat agris.
It was thought this pompous stile, upon a low subject, could not be more properly imitated then by a parody of these lines in the tragedy of Cato.
Nothing could place Nomentanus in a more ridiculous light, than this mis-application of moral reflections on a disaster, which nothing but the most sordid avarice could feel as a misery; and nothing but the most slavish flattery term a misfortune; A canting fanatic is ever ready to make the same misapplication of scripture sentences. We must, therefore, suppose Nomentanus quite serious in the comfort he gives his friend Rufus Nasidienus; and this mixture of folly and sycophantry, as it sets Varius a laughing, so it furnishes Balatro with a fair Opportunity of exercising his talent of grave humour; and this he does by exposing the slovenly improprieties of that ostentatious miser's feast, at the same time that he appears to condole with him on this unhappy accident. His whole speech, duly considered, is one continued irony or sneer. This is so obvious, that there had been no occasion for this remark, did not the imitator apprehend that some of his readers may examine and censure this performance (as they did his Legacy-Hunting) by the prose translation of Dunstar; the only edition of Horace they understand! And Dunstar takes this passage in a quite different sense.
A garden of nightly pleasure, where clergymen of gallantry may entertain ladies with church music, without the least scandal to the cloth.
FINIS.
| The Miser's Feast | |