Great Epoch In The History Of Bards! Important Day To Those Who Woo The Nine; Better Than Fame Are Visitation-Cards, And Heaven On Earth At A Great House To Dine. O Cruel Memory! Do Not Conjure Up The Ghost Of Sally Dab, The Famous Cook; Who Gave Me Solid Food, The Cheering Cup, And On Her Virtues Begg'D I'd Write A Book. For Her Dear Sake I Braved The Letter'D Fates, And All Her Loose Thoughts In One Volume Cramm'D; "The Accomplish'D Cook, In Verse, With Twenty Plates:" Which (O! Ungrateful Deed!) The Critics D----D. D--N Them, I Say, The Tasteless Envious Elves; Malicious Fancy Makes Them So Expert, They Write 'Bout Dinners, Who Ne'er Dine Themselves, And Boast Of Linen, Who Ne'er Had A Shirt. Rest, Goddess, From All Broils! I Bless Thy Name, Dear Kitchen-Nymph, As Ever Eyes Did Glut On! I'd Give Thee All I Have, My Slice Of Fame, If Thou, Fat Shade! Could'St Give One Slice Of Mutton. Yet Hold--Ten Minutes More, And I Am Bless'D; Fly Quick, Ye Seconds; Quick, Ye Moments, Fly: Soon Shall I Put My Hunger To The Test, And All The Host Of Miseries Defy. Thrice Is He Arm'D, Who Hath His Dinner First, For Well-Fed Valour Always Fights The Best; And Though He May Of Over-Eating Burst, His Life Is Happy, And His Death Is Just. To-Day I Dine--Not On My Usual Fare; Not Near The Sacred Mount With Skinny Nine; Not In The Park Upon A Dish Of Air: But On True Eatables, And Rosy Wine. Delightful Task! To Cram The Hungry Maw, To Teach The Empty Stomach How To Fill, To Pour Red Port Adown The Parched Craw; Without That Dread Dessert--To Pay The Bill. I'm Off--Methinks I Smell The Long-Lost Savour; Hail, Platter-Sound! To Poet Music Sweet: Now Grant Me, Jove, If Not Too Great A Favour, Once In My Life As Much As I Can Eat!