"Good, well-dress'd turtle beats them hollow,-- It almost makes me wish, I vow, To have two stomachs, like a cow!" And lo! as with the cud, an inward thrill Upheaved his waistcoat and disturb'd his frill, His mouth was oozing, and he work'd his jaw-- "I almost that that I could eat one raw."

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.

Ye diners out from whom we guard our spoons.

There's a friendly tie of some sort between music and eating.

For my part getting up seems not so easy By half as lying.

Some dreams we have are nothing else but dreams, Unnatural and full of contradictions; Yet others of our most romantic schemes Are something more than fictions.