Wishing you may find enough,[1]
If you dine with us to-day.900
Our victim is so poor and thin,
Merely bones, in fact, and skin.
Peis. We sacrifice and pray to the winged deities.
Enter a Poet, very ragged and shabby, with a very mellifluous
submissive mendicatory demeanour.
Poet."For the festive, happy day,
Muse prepare an early lay,
To Nephelococcugia."905
Peis. What's here to do? What are you? Where do you come from?
Poet. An humble menial of the Muses' train,
As Homer expresses it.910
Peis. A menial, are you?
With your long hair?[2] A menial?
Poet. 'Tis not that,
No! but professors of the poetical art,
Are simply styled, the "Menials of the Muses,"
As Homer expresses it.
Peis. Aye, the Muse has given you
A ragged livery. Well, but friend, I say—915
Friend!—Poet!—What the plague has brought you here?
Poet. I've made an Ode upon your new built City,
And a charming composition for a Chorus,
And another, in Simonides's manner.
Peis. (in a sharp, cross, examining tone). When were they made?
What time? How long ago?920
Poet. From early date, I celebrate in song,
The noble Nephelococcugian state.
Peis. That's strange, when I'm just sacrificing here,
For the first time, to give the town a name.
Poet.Intimations, swift as air,
To the Muses' ear are carried,
Swifter than the speed and force,
Of the fiery footed horse,925
