Page:Satires, Epistles, Art of Poetry of Horace - Coningsby (1874).djvu/81

Oft as, attired for feasting, blithe and gay,
He keeps some birthday, wedding, holiday,
From his big horn he sprinkles drop by drop
Oil on the cabbages himself:—you'd stop
Your nose to smell it:—vinegar, I own,
He gives you without stint, and that alone.
Well, betwixt these, what should a wise man do?
Which should he copy, think you, of the two?
'Tis Scylla and Charybdis, rock and gulf:
On this side howls the dog, on that the wolf.
A man that's neat in table, as in dress,
Errs not by meanness, yet avoids excess;
Nor, like Albucius, when he plays the host,
Storms at his slaves, while giving each his post;
Nor, like poor Nævius, carelessly offends
By serving greasy water to his friends.
Now listen for a space, while I declare
The good results that spring from frugal fare.
Imprimis, health: for 'tis not hard to see
How various meats are like to disagree,
If you remember with how light a weight
Your last plain meal upon your stomach sate:
Now, when you've taken toll of every dish,
Have mingled roast with boiled and fowl with fish,
The mass of dainties, turbulent and crude,
Engenders bile, and stirs intestine feud.
Observe your guests, how ghastly pale their looks
When they've discussed some mystery of your cook's: