The Poetical Works of The Rev. Samuel Bishop ... To Which are Prefixed, Memoirs of the Life of the Author By the Rev. Thomas Clare |
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 | The Poetical Works of The Rev. Samuel Bishop |  |
132
DINNER.
The clock struck Four!—with solemn pace and slow,
A Bard, (Alas! that Bards should suffer so!)
Hungry and hopeless, poor and pensive stray'd
Lingering, along the Mall's deserted shade:
From Park the crowd to smoaking roofs repair;—
He feasts in Fresco, who must feast on air.
A Bard, (Alas! that Bards should suffer so!)
Hungry and hopeless, poor and pensive stray'd
Lingering, along the Mall's deserted shade:
From Park the crowd to smoaking roofs repair;—
He feasts in Fresco, who must feast on air.
Yet, tho' stern fate substantial food deny'd,
Ideal viands fancy's power supply'd;
On bak'd, roast, boil'd (while chance the changes rung)
The Poet mus'd:—and as he mus'd, he sung.
Ideal viands fancy's power supply'd;
On bak'd, roast, boil'd (while chance the changes rung)
The Poet mus'd:—and as he mus'd, he sung.
“Waft warmly-fragrant, sweetly savory-gales,
“Waft the rich fumes, each kitchen round exhales!
“Waft the rich fumes, each kitchen round exhales!
133
“I smell, I smell the reeking odours rise!
“I see,—but Oh! too soon the vision flies!
“Why! why! ye transient forms, this barbarous haste?
“Ah! stay! Ah! let me—let me—dream—I taste!
“I see,—but Oh! too soon the vision flies!
“Why! why! ye transient forms, this barbarous haste?
“Ah! stay! Ah! let me—let me—dream—I taste!
“Say, Virgin Muses! (Ye can well divine)
“Say who, this moment, on what danties dine!
“Say who, this moment, on what danties dine!
“Now at the Merchant's board, from luscious streams
“Of soup, the quivering fat of turtles steams;
“Drest by an art, no power of verse can tell;
“Hash'd, slash'd, slic'd, spic'd, carv'd, serv'd in its own shell.
“Of soup, the quivering fat of turtles steams;
“Drest by an art, no power of verse can tell;
“Hash'd, slash'd, slic'd, spic'd, carv'd, serv'd in its own shell.
“Now beards wag all, where summon'd Counties meet,
“And rival Squires, for England's welfare—eat:
“While hams and chines inspire th' elector's choice,
“And fix the freeman's right—to sell his voice.
“And rival Squires, for England's welfare—eat:
“While hams and chines inspire th' elector's choice,
“And fix the freeman's right—to sell his voice.
“The napkin now it's wonted station fills,
“Beneath the sleek Church-warden's rosy gills:
“His eye devours the turbot to the bone;
“And ere he swallows, half the haunch is gone.
“Now from the war of words, in peace withdraw
“The coifed Counsel, learned in the law;
“O'er social chops they meet, beneath the rose;
“And club as friends, the fee that made them foes;
“To Dinner, these with ardor take their way;—
“Their clients—with what appetite they may.
“Beneath the sleek Church-warden's rosy gills:
“His eye devours the turbot to the bone;
“And ere he swallows, half the haunch is gone.
134
“The coifed Counsel, learned in the law;
“O'er social chops they meet, beneath the rose;
“And club as friends, the fee that made them foes;
“To Dinner, these with ardor take their way;—
“Their clients—with what appetite they may.
“Now o'er a single chicken, tête à tête,
“Two Sweethearts coo; a turtle and his mate;
“Love all their converse, all their thought supplies,
“And ev'n the single chick neglected lies:—
“Oh! couldst thou, Cupid, but transport me there,
“What love disdains, might be the Poet's share.
“Two Sweethearts coo; a turtle and his mate;
“Love all their converse, all their thought supplies,
“And ev'n the single chick neglected lies:—
“Oh! couldst thou, Cupid, but transport me there,
“What love disdains, might be the Poet's share.
“See the tithe-pig the Parson's table grace;
“Nor grudge the tribute due, ye rustic race!
“Tho' thousand tithe-pigs every day procures,
“The priest's good luck, is but the tenth of yours.
“Nor grudge the tribute due, ye rustic race!
“Tho' thousand tithe-pigs every day procures,
“The priest's good luck, is but the tenth of yours.
“Lo! Dolly's now the rich rump steak affords!
“Repast for Lords, and Mistresses of Lords!
“Repast for Lords, and Mistresses of Lords!
135
“Yes, every street, and every house can boast
“Some private manchet, or some public host!
“Some public host, or private manchet see,
“For every hungry mortal—but for me!”
“Some private manchet, or some public host!
“Some public host, or private manchet see,
“For every hungry mortal—but for me!”
So rhym'd the Bard, with many a sigh between;
When lo! a Publisher came cross the Green!
They meet—they strike the bargain—and they bind—
The Pamphlet-monger paid, the Poet din'd;
Sold, as to Satan Witches were of yore,
To vilify the arts he lov'd before;
With harpy screamings merit to pursue;
And damn by wholesale in the next Review.
When lo! a Publisher came cross the Green!
They meet—they strike the bargain—and they bind—
The Pamphlet-monger paid, the Poet din'd;
Sold, as to Satan Witches were of yore,
To vilify the arts he lov'd before;
With harpy screamings merit to pursue;
And damn by wholesale in the next Review.
| The Poetical Works of The Rev. Samuel Bishop | |