Classic Poem

 Once on a time (so runs the Fable)
A Country Mouse, right hospitable,
Receiv'd a Town Mouse at his Board,
Just as a Farmer might a Lord.
A frugal Mouse upon the whole,
Yet lov'd his Friend, and had a Soul;
Knew what was handsome, and wou'd do't,
On just occasion, coute qui coute .
He brought him Bacon (nothing lean)
Pudding, that might have pleas'd a Dean;
Cheese, such as men in Suffolk make,
But wish'd it Stilton for his sake;
Yet to his Guest tho' no way sparing,
He eat himself the Rind and paring.
Our Courtier scarce could touch a bit,
But show'd his Breeding, and his Wit,
He did his best to seem to eat,
And cry'd, ‘I vow you're mighty neat.
‘As sweet a Cave as one shall see!
‘A most Romantic hollow Tree!
‘A pretty kind of savage Scene!
‘But come, for God's sake, live with Men:
‘Consider, Mice, like Men, must die,
‘Both small and great, both you and I:
‘Then spend your life in Joy and Sport,
‘(This Doctrine, Friend, I learnt at Court.)
 The veriest Hermit in the Nation
May yield, God knows, to strong Temptation.
Away they come, thro' thick and thin,
To a tall house near Lincoln's-Inn:
('Twas on the night of a Debate,
When all their Lordships had sate late.)
 Behold the place, where if a Poet
Shin'd in description, he might show it,
Tell how the Moon-beam trembling falls
And tips with silver all the walls:
Palladian walls, Venetian doors,
Grotesco roofs, and Stucco floors:
But let it (in a word) be said,
The Moon was up, and Men a-bed,
The Napkins white, the Carpet red:
The Guests withdrawn had left the Treat,
And down the Mice sate, tête à tête .
 Our Courtier walks from dish to dish,
Tastes for his Friend of Fowl or Fish;
Tells all their names, lays down the law,
‘Que ça est bon! Ah goutez ça!
‘That Jelly's rich, this Malmsey healing,
‘Pray dip your Whiskers and your Tail in’.
Was ever such a happy Swain?
He stuffs and swills, and stuffs again.
‘I'm quite asham'd—'tis mighty rude
‘To eat so much—but all's so good.
‘I have a thousand thanks to give—
‘My Lord alone knows how to live’.
 No sooner said, but from the Hall
Rush Chaplain, Butler, Dogs and all:
‘A Rat, a Rat! clap to the door—
The Cat comes bouncing on the floor.
O for the Heart of Homer's Mice,
Or Gods to save them in a trice!
(It was by Providence, they think,
For your damn'd Stucco has no chink)
‘An't please your Honour, quoth the Peasant,
‘This same Dessert is not so pleasant:
‘Give me again my hollow Tree!
‘A Crust of Bread, and Liberty.