WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
724 Persicos Odi
I EAR Lucy, you know what my wish is,-
��I hate all your Frenchified fuss. Your silly entrees and made dishes
Were never intended for us. No footman in lace and in ruffles
Need dangle behind my arm-chair; . And never mind seeking for truffles, Although they be ever so rare.
But a plain leg of mutton, my Lucy,
I pr'ythee get ready at three: Have it smoking, and tender, and juicy,
And what better meat can there be? And when it has feasted the master,
'Twill amply suffice for the maid; Meanwhile I will smoke my canaster,
And tipple my ale in the shade.
��ROBERT BROWNING 725 Song from 'Paracelsus'
rEAP cassia, sandal-buds and stripes
Of labdanum, and aloe-balls, Smear'd with dull nard an Indian wipes From out her hair such balsam falls Down sea-side mountain pedestals, From tree-tops where tired winds are fain, Spent with the vast and howling main, To treasure half their island-gain.
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