If my opinion is of any worth, the fieldfare is the greatest
delicacy among birds, the hare among quadrupeds.

If my opinion is of any worth, the fieldfare is the greatest
delicacy among birds, the hare among quadrupeds.

He that keeps not crust nor crum
Weary of all, shall want some.

He that keeps not crust nor crum
Weary of all, shall want some.

All human history attests
That happiness for man,--the hungry sinner!--
Since Eve ate apples, much depends on read more

All human history attests
That happiness for man,--the hungry sinner!--
Since Eve ate apples, much depends on dinner.

The poor man will praise it so hath he good cause,
That all the year eats neither partridge not read more

The poor man will praise it so hath he good cause,
That all the year eats neither partridge not quail,
But sets up his rest and makes up his feast,
With a crust of brown bread and a pot of good ale.

'Tis not her coldness, father,
That chills my labouring breast;
It's that confounded cucumber
read more

'Tis not her coldness, father,
That chills my labouring breast;
It's that confounded cucumber
I've ate and can't digest.

When the Sultan Shah-Zaman
Goes to the city Ispahan,
Even before he gets so far
read more

When the Sultan Shah-Zaman
Goes to the city Ispahan,
Even before he gets so far
As the place where the clustered palm-trees are,
At the last of the thirty palace-gates
The pet of the harem, Rose-in-Bloom,
Orders a feast in his favorite room--
Glittering square of colored ice,
Sweetened with syrup, tinctured with spice,
Creams, and cordials, and sugared dates,
Syrian apples, Othmanee quinces,
Limes and citrons and apricots,
And wines that are known to Eastern princes.

This dish of meat is too good for any but anglers, or very honest
men.

This dish of meat is too good for any but anglers, or very honest
men.

Ye diners out from whom we guard our spoons.

Ye diners out from whom we guard our spoons.

Oh, herbaceous treat!
'Twould tempt the dying anchorite to eat;
Back to the world he'd turn his read more

Oh, herbaceous treat!
'Twould tempt the dying anchorite to eat;
Back to the world he'd turn his fleeting soul,
And plunge his fingers in the salad bowl;
Serenely full the epicure would say,
"Fate cannot harm me,--I have dined to-day."