Classic Poem

Beyond the sunny Philippines
An island lies, whose name I do not know;
But that's of little consequence, if so
You understand that there they had no hens;
Till, by a happy chance, a traveler,
After a while, carried some poultry there.
Fast they increased as any one could wish;
Until fresh eggs became the common dish.
But all the natives ate them boiled — they say —
Because the stranger taught no other way
At last the experiment by one was tried —
Sagacious man! — of having his eggs fried.
And, O! what boundless honors, for his pains,
His fruitful and inventive fancy gains!
Another, now, to have them baked devised —
Most happy thought! — and still another, spiced.
Who ever thought eggs were so delicate!
Next, some one gave his friends an omelette:
" Ah! " all exclaimed, " what an ingenious feat! "
But scarce a year went by, an artiste shouts,
" I have it now — ye're all a pack of louts! —
With nice tomatoes all my eggs are stewed. "
And the whole island thought the mode so good,
That they would so have cooked them to this day,
But that a stranger, wandering out that way,
Another dish the gaping natives taught,
And showed them eggs cooked a la Huguenot
.
Successive cooks thus proved their skill diverse;
But how shall I be able to rehearse
All of the new, delicious condiments
That luxury, from time to time, invents?
Soft, hard, and dropped; and now with sugar sweet,
And now boiled up with milk, the eggs they eat;
In sherbet, in preserves; at last they tickle
Their palates fanciful with eggs in pickle.
All had their day — the last was still the best.
But a grave senior thus, one day, addressed
The epicures: " Boast, ninnies, if you will,
These countless prodigies of gastric skill —
But blessings on the man who brought the hens! "

Beyond the sunny Philippines
Our crowd of modern authors need not go
New-fangled modes of cooking eggs to show.