Classic Poem

A Courteous Knight I sing, of ample State,
Yet more in Stomach than in Fortune great;
Who at King Arthur 's Board, as at his own,
(Had He then liv'd) still his good Stroke had shown:
The strong decisive Weapon of whose Strife
Was not his Whinyard, but more dreadful Knife;
Who oft'ner, than in Combats of the Sword,
Would risque his Life at his o'er-loaded Board.
Large Commons were the Tournaments he sought,
And Surfeits the sole Foes with whom he fought:
These he encountred still, tho' still o'ercome,
And tempted ev'ry Day his Martyrdom.

He on a Time, with Invitation fair,
Which some call Challenge, did his Comrades dare
With him the Tryal of their Strengths to try,
Whether at forc'd Meats, or high-season'd Pye,
Whether on Poultry, or more luscious Fish,
Or whate'er else should fill th' expanded Dish.
Such was the peaceful Summons he did send
To each voracious and undaunted Friend;
No Blood did he require their Wrath to spill,
No Giants, but their Appetites, to kill.
No Dragon's Head, or Gryphin's Hide to maul,
But with him on his Kitchen-Fare to fall.

My Muse , tho' little us'd to feast, declare,
Since all the hungry Muses Smell-feasts are,
What was our Noble Treater's Bill of Fare.

All took their Place, not standing on Degrees,
And each his proper Plate and Knife did seize;
Tuck'd up the Napkin to his rivel'd Chin,
Look'd smart, and seem'd to wish the Dinner in.
And now the Waiters on each other croud,
And puff, and sweat, beneath the pond'rous Food.

In meagre Soup disgrac'd, fat Crawfish come,
In Soup, meer Water as alive they swom!
Tame Ducklings in another Pottage dive,
Pin-feather'd still, almost as when alive.
Higher (an Ocean in a single Dish!)
A large black Sea of Butter stor'd with Fish:
Fish, that a seeming Paradox propound,
Since those that least were salt , least fresh were found.
And thence a Quibber, to dull Joaks inclin'd,
Said all the Fish were Smelts that he could find.
A huge Calve's-Head, as oft it comes to pass,
At the Board's upper End demands its Place;
Who that he had his Brains about him shew'd,
(And that was more than some about him cou'd!)
Whose Brains, as at the Council-Board 'tis seen,
Made them devour the Head with fiercer Spleen:
For there the best Heads still most Danger run,
By clumsy Politicians oft undone!
A strong Ragoust stood near its Kindred-Fish,
Too strong its Odours for a standing Dish.
A Pile of Sweetbreads, the Knight said, stood by,
But soon each Nostril gave his Tongue the Lye;
Perch'd on the Salt a lean, burnt, Turkey stood,
That, for his Want of Feeding, was our Food:
For he so like a Skeleton did look,
He dy'd not by the Hands of any Cook:
And here, and there, to glut th' offended Eye,
Scorch'd Mutton, and raw Veal, promiscuous lie.

Next, in the Mire of dirty Currants smear'd,
The Puppy of a London Sow appear'd,
A Pig of such a Size you might have swore
It was its Mother's Rival in the Boar.
A Venison Pasty, steaming all below,
Did, undiminish'd, to the Side-Board go;
The rank Effluvia did our Taste prevent,
And each excus'd it for the powerful Scent.

Next on the Board three Cockney Conies came,
Whose Stink was much like their's we should not name,
Altho' the latter's vig'rous Scent, we deem,
Still recommends them best to our Esteem.

Next did a Pyramid of Fowl appear,
Some but half-pluck'd, half-roasted others were,
Larded with Bacon were the lean and lank,
But Bacon's self could not disguise the rank:
Wildgoose, and Woodcock, Widgeon, Snipe and Quail,
Together pil'd, some sweet, and others stale!
Tarts, of young Fruit, a large Desert, below,
That tasted much less of the Fruit, than Bough,
But, like most early Things, thought good, since dear,
And valued most, as most insipid Cheer.
French Cheese stood by, that smelt like Carriers Toes,
Fit only to regale a Swine-herd's Nose.

Such were their Cates; and next, my Muse, declare,
If better were the Sequel of their Fare:
In clumsy Bumpers Wines were dealt around,
And ev'ry Glass with nauseous Bawdry crown'd.
A diff'rent Sort each loaded Salver grac'd,
Diff'rent in Colour, but alike in Taste;
His common Port , was luscious as his Sack ,
And the same Stum impos'd for Frontiniac .
And as few think their Friends they entertain,
Unless they with the Stomach load the Brain,
So he, to gratify his drunken Crew,
Forc'd them to drink till drinking made 'em spew.
And more to aid the Vapours of his Wine,
Did his sophisticated Nonsense join;
Prated, but would no Replications hear,
As he design'd to feast each Member's Ear:
But Guests still claim a Right at ev'ry Treat,
To share the Chat as well as share the Meat:
So each grew unattentive to their Host,
And least regarded whilst he gabbled most:
A diff'rent Theme from every Talker rose,
And each lik'd That he did himself propose:
This form'd a Camp, and that a Council-board,
And talk'd most wisely of the Gown and Sword:
Others with dang'rous Heresies grew warm,
And could the Errors of the Church reform;
Prescribe to Faith, and mould Religion new,
As Drunkards, first or last, are sure to do:
Some talk'd of Victories in Flanders gain'd,
Others of Conquests o'er the Fair obtain'd.
And whilst some glory in their Wounds, and Scars,
Gain'd for their Honour boldly in the Wars;
Others their Courage more pretend to prove,
By Proofs of Boldness in advent'rous Love.
Here Some that would the happy Men be deem'd,
Report how wondrous well they are esteem'd:
And so abusively their Mistress praise,
That each Eulogium grows the Nymph's Disgrace.
Others, of Female Conquests not so proud,
Talk of Court-friends, and drink some Peer aloud:
And one vain Coxcomb does a Countess toast,
And her good Humour, and his Influence boast.

Thus while the Board, in loose disjointed Chat,
Descanted some on This thing, some on That;
The Knight, whose Sense was drown'd in Wine, thought fit
To Rail at Men of Sense to shew his Wit:
Declar'd those Bards, whom all true Wits call Masters,
Were wretched Rhimers, and dull Poetasters,
Said Donne and Cowley but ill Poets were,
And, tho' they had some Brains, yet had no Ear;
Compar'd De Foe 's Burlesque with Dryden 's Satire,
And Butler with the Lutrin 's dull Translator:
Decried each past to raise each present Writer,
And curs'd the Fox , while he cry'd up the Biter .

Thus treated, and thus talk'd this wondrous Knight,
As if his Kindness was design'd in Spight;
Since, to his Wits and to his Bounty's Proof,
He gave them of his Feast and him enough:
Yet made them merry, while they laugh'd to find
His Cheer alike was bad of ev'ry kind:
And that he ply'd them freely with Discourse,
To make the nauseous Entertainment worse:
Yet all agreed he did his Word out-do,
Who promis'd one Calves-head, and gave them Two!