And bitter sarcasm; 'till at length, well fed,
And having drunk my fill, I stagger home.
No nimble link-boy guides my giddy steps,
But "through the palpable obscure, I grope
My uncouth way;" and if by chance I meet,
In their nocturnal rounds, the watch, I hail them
With soft and gentle speech; then thank the gods
That I've escaped so well, nor felt the weight
Of their hard fists, or their still harder staves.
At length, unhurt, I find myself at home,
And creep to my poor bed, where gentle sleep,
And pleasant dreams, inspired by generous wine,
Lock up my senses.—Anon.
Diphilus. (Book vi. § 29, p. 372.)
When I'm invited to a great man's board,
I do not feast my eyes by looking at
The costly hangings, painted ceiling, or
The rich Corinthian vases, but survey,
And watch with curious eye, the curling smoke
That rises from the kitchen. If it comes
In a strong current, straight, direct, and full,
I chuckle at the sight, and shake myself
For very joy; but if, oblique and small,
It rises slowly in a scanty volume,
I then exclaim, Sad meagre fare for me!
A lenten supper, and a bloodless meal.—Anon.
The same.
Makes some rich squire
A banquet, and am I among the guests?
Mark me: I cast no idle eye of observation
On mouldings or on fretted roof: I deign not
With laudatory breath to ask, if hands
From Corinth form'd and fashion'd the wine-coolers:
These trouble not my cap.—I watch and note
(And with most deep intensity of vision)
What smoke the cook sends up: mounts it me full
And with alacrity and perpendicular?
