To draw up in array a single day-bill

Of modern dinners? where more mystery lurks, In soups or sauces, or a sole ragoût,

Than witches, b-ches, or physicians, brew.

LXIII.

There was a goodly "soupe à la bonne femme,” (1)
Though God knows whence it came from; there
A turbot for relief of those who cram,
Relieved with "dindon à la Parigeux;"
There also was the sinner that I am!

66

[was, too,

How shall I get this gourmand stanza through? Soupe à la Beauveau," whose relief was dory, Relieved itself by pork, for greater glory.

LXIV.

But I must crowd all into one grand mess
Or mass; for should I stretch into detail,
My Muse would run much more into excess,
Than when some squeamish people deem her frail
But though a "bonne vivante," I must confess
Her stomach's not her peccant part; this tale
However doth require some slight refection,
Just to relieve her spirits from dejection.

LXV.

Fowls " à la Condé," slices eke of salmon,

With "sauces Génévoises," and haunch of venison; Wines too, which might again have slain young Ammon

A man like whom I hope we sha'n't see many soon;

(1) [See Almanach des Gourmands, Code Gourmand, Le Cuisinier Royal, &c. &c.]

They also set a glazed Westphalian ham on,
Whereon Apicius would bestow his benison;
And then there was champagne with foaming whirls,
As white as Cleopatra's melted pearls.

LXVI.

Then there was God knows what " à l'Allemande,"
"`A l'Espagnole," " timballe," and " salpicon"—
With things I can't withstand or understand,
Though swallow'd with much zest upon the whole;
And "entremets" to piddle with at hand,
Gently to lull down the subsiding soul;

While great Lucullus' Robe triumphal muffles. (There's fame)-young partridge fillets, deck'd with truffles.(1)

LXVII.

What are the fillets on the victor's brow

[arch

To these? They are rags or dust. Where is the

Which nodded to the nation's spoils below?

Where the triumphal chariots' haughty march? Gone to where victories must like dinners go. Farther I shall not follow the research: But oh ye modern heroes with your cartridges, When will your names lend lustre e'en to partridges?

(1) A dish" à la Lucullus." This hero, who conquered the East, has left his more extended celebrity to the transplantation of cherries (which he first brought into Europe), and the nomenclature of some very good dishes; and I am not sure that (barring indigestion) he has not done more service to mankind by his cookery than by his conquests. A cherry-tree may weigh against a bloody laurel: besides, he has contrived to earn celebrity from both.

LXVIII.

Those truffles too are no bad accessories,

Follow'd by "petits puits d'amour"—a dish
Of which perhaps the cookery rather varies,
So every one may dress it to his wish,
According to the best of dictionaries,

Which encyclopedize both flesh and fish;
But even sans "confitures," it no less true is,
There's pretty picking in those " petits puits."(1)

LXIX.

The mind is lost in mighty contemplation
Of intellect expanded on two courses;
And indigestion's grand multiplication
Requires arithmetic beyond my forces.
Who would suppose, from Adam's simple ration,
That cookery could have call'd forth such resources
As form a science and a nomenclature

From out the commonest demands of nature?

LXX.

The glasses jingled, and the palates tingled;
The diners of celebrity dined well;
The ladies with more moderation mingled
In the feast, pecking less than I can tell;
Also the younger men too: for a springald

Can't, like ripe age, in gormandize excel,
But thinks less of good eating than the whisper
(When seated next him) of some pretty lisper.

(1) "Petits puits d'amour garnis des confitures," -a classical and well known dish for part of the flank of a second course.

LXXI.

Alas! I must leave undescribed the gibier,
The salmi, the consommé, the purée,
All which I use to make my rhymes run glibber
Than could roast beef in our rough John Bull way:
I must not introduce even a spare rib here,

"Bubble and squeak" would spoil my liquid lay But I have dined, and must forego, alas! The chaste description even of a "bécasse;"

LXXII.

And fruits, and ice, and all that art refines
From nature for the service of the goût-
Taste or the gout,—pronounce it as inclines
Your stomach! Ere you dine, the French will do;
But after, there are sometimes certain signs
Which prove plain English truer of the two.
Hast ever had the gout? I have not had it
But I

may have, and you too, reader, dread it.

LXXIII

The simple olives, best allies of wine,
Must I pass over in my bill of fare?

I must, although a favourite "plat" of mine
In Spain, and Lucca, Athens, every where:
On them and bread 't was oft my luck to dine,
The grass my table-cloth, in open air,
On Sunium or Hymettus, like Diogenes,
Of whom half my philosophy the progeny is.(1)

(1) [See antè, Vol. II. p. 9.]

LXXIV.

Amidst this tumult of fish, flesh, and fowl,
And vegetables, all in masquerade,
The guests were placed according to their roll,
But various as the various meats display'd:
Don Juan sat next an " à l'Espagnole".

No damsel, but a dish, as hath been said;
But so far like a lady, that 'twas drest
Superbly, and contain'd a world of zest.

LXXV.

By some odd chance too, he was placed between Aurora and the Lady Adeline

A situation difficult, I ween,

For man therein, with eyes and heart, to dine. Also the conference which we have seen

[him.

Was not such as to encourage him to shine, For Adeline, addressing few words to him, With two transcendent eyes seem'd to look through

LXXVI,

I sometimes almost think that eyes have ears: This much is sure, that, out of earshot, things Are somehow echoed to the pretty dears,

Of which I can't tell whence their knowledge springs.

Like that same mystic music of the spheres,
Which no one hears, so loudly though it rings,
'Tis wonderful how oft the sex have heard
Long dialogues-which pass'd without a word!