Who whisk'd from Sancho Panza's fauces
The evanescent meats and sauces,
But to protect his sacred master
Against such diet as obstructs
The action of the epigastre,
O'erloads the biliary ducts,
The peristaltic motion crosses,
And puzzles the digestive process.
The Cardinal, one hungry day,
First having with his eyes consumed Some lampreys that before him fumed, Had plunged his fork into the prey, When Rabelais gravely shook his head, Tapp'd on his plate three times, and said "Pah!-hard digestion! hard digestion !" And his bile-dreading Eminence, Though sorely tempted, had the sense To send it off without a question.
"Hip! hallo! bring the lampreys here!" Cried Rabelais, as the dish he snatch'd;
And gobbling up the dainty cheer,
The whole was instantly dispatch'd.
Redden'd with vain attempts at stifling
At once his wrath and appetite,
His Patron cried-" Your conduct's rude;
This is no subject, Sir, for trifling,
How dare you designate this food
As indigestible and crude,
Then swallow it before my sight ?”
Quoth Rabelais, "It may soon be shewn
That I don't merit this rebuff:
I tapp'd the plate, and that, you'll own,
Is indigestible enough;
But as to this unlucky fish,
With you so strangely out of favour,
Not only 'tis a wholesome dish,
But one of most delicious flavour."
THE BALLAD ON WHICH THE POEM OF THE CORSAIR 18 FOUNDED.
A PIRATE Once liv'd on an Isle,
And he fed upon cabbage and water,
A grim devil, that never could smile,
But when up to his elbow in slaughter;
He had a fair wife whom he lov'd,
And she lov'd him too, which was stranger,
But the devil a bit was he mov'd,
By her fondling to keep out of danger.
One night with his cut-throats he sails,
To terror and pity quite callous,
To surprise a Bashaw with three tails,
And set fire to his fleet and his palace :
But while they were fighting and burning,
They heard women squeak in the harem-
A booty they thought it worth earning-
So away from the bonfire they bore 'em.
Says the Bashaw, the gudgeons are caught,
Now, my lads, fall to cutting and thrusting,
So his men faced about and they fought,
And soon gave the rogues a good dusting;
The men were all slain-but the Chief
Being ta'en, they determined to spit him, So they plastered the wounds of this thief, Till they found out a stake that would fit him.
Says he, "'Tis a bore, but the game..
For very high stakes we were playing,
Had I conquer'd I'd serve him the same,
So I'll not fall to sniv'ling and praying;"
To the prison a fair lady came
To see this heroic Commander,
Says she, "I'm the Bashaw's chief Dame,
Whom you sav'd like a brave salamander.
"My husband's a jealous old dog,
Should like to be wife to a Pirate;
Come kill him, and off let us jog,”-
Says he, "Ma'am, I don't much admire it,
A knife I can't handle, and you—
I can't take you off—I've a wife,
And I'd rather be skewered through and through, Than breed such a terrible strife."
Says she," then I'll do it-ne'er mind,"
And was off like a charger to battle,
While he follow'd softly behind,
For fear that his darbies* should rattle;
As merry was she as a grig,
When she'd finish'd the murder so horrid,
But the Pirate star'd like a stuck pig,
When he saw the blood smear'd on her forehead.
She endeavour'd to smirk and to smile,
But the Pirate, all sullen and musing,
Fetters.-Vide Grose's Slang Dict..
Sat gruff as a bear all the while,
The lady's endearments refusing!
Ye wives, when your husbands you kill,
Wash off the appearance of evil,
Since the stain of the blood that ye spill,
With horror could strike such a devil.
Returning, he found that his wife,
Believing him certainly spitted,
For grief had departed this life,
So the island for ever he quitted.—
Wherever he's gone, he's fair game,
'Tis a pity the world should'nt know it;
Some say, that to England he came,
And set up for a Lord and a Poet.
JACOB! I do not love to see thy nose
Turned up in scornful curve at yonder Pig.
It would be well, my friend, if we, like him,
Were perfect in our nature! Why dislike
The sow-born grunter?-he is obstinate,
Thou answerest; ugly, and the filthiest beast
That banquets upon offal. Now, I pray you,
Hear the Pig's Counsel.
We must not, Jacob, be deceived with words,
By sophist sounds. A democratic beast,
He knows that his unmerciful drivers seek
Their profit and not his. He hath not learned
That Pigs were made for man, born to be brawned
And baconized; and he must please to give
Just what his gracious masters please to take,
Perhaps his tusks, the weapons nature gave
For self-defence, the general privilege.
Perhaps, hark Jacob! dost thou hear that horn?
Woe to the young posterity of pork !
The Pig is ugly. Jacob, look at him!
Those eyes have taught the lover flattery.
His face,-nay, Jacob, Jacob! were it fair
To judge a lady in her dishabille?
Fancy it dressed, and with saltpetre rouged!
Behold his tail, my friend, with curls like that
The wanton hop marries her stately spouse;
So crisp in beauty, Amoretta's hair
Rings round her lover's soul the chains of love.
And what is beauty, but the aptitude
Of parts harmonious? Give thy fancy scope,
And thou wilt find that no imagined change
Can beautify this beast. Place at his end
The starry glories of the Peacock's pride;
Give him the Swan's white breast; for his horn hoofs,
Shape such a foot and ankle as the waves
Crowded in eager rivalry to kiss,
When Venus from the enamoured sea arose ;--
Jacob, thou canst but make a monster of him :
All alteration man could think, would mar
The last charge,—he lives
A dirty life. Here I could shelter him
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