They are seated at last; and like smoke disappear The rich haunches of venison, and all the good cheer. Yea, as swift as a lion runs after his prey, The legs of the roebuck are cutting away Down the throat of the monarch; in spite of his teeth, They rush rapidly on just his large eyes beneath.
Then dame Lion brought forward some wine like champagne, And--believe me--that no one was asked twice in vain: Like a torrent it flowed through their mouths, while their eyes Round are rolling with rapture, delight, and surprise. "How delicious! enchanting! what capital stuff! It has only one fault--that you can't drink enough At a draught, for the fumes seem to fizz up one's nose, And dispute with your breath for the passage like foes." Thus spake the Count Panther; but, too busy to speak, The rest nodded assent, and their glass again seek. They ne'er had fall'n in with that liquor before, And Fate had determined they never should more. For drinking they sat, till so drunk, they're not able To keep on their seats--so rolled under the table; Where some Indians out early next morning them found, Who with clubs dashed their brains out to manure the ground. And, thus, ever since (to these animals' shame) They made beasts of themselves,--Beast has been their name.
As 'tis likely all this You will skip o'er and miss, As remote from the subject before ye; I a few facts will lay Now before you, which may Form excuse for this turn of the story. First, I think it is rude to remark what folks eat, So I mended my pen while they cut up the meat; And this tale copied out, which I thought might apply To events that were passing close under my eye. But my strain I'll resume when they come to dessert, And will note down their jokes, which no feelings can hurt. For who'd like a reporter on paper with ink To note all that you eat, and write down what you drink? Of the number of slices it takes you to fill? Just as if he of parcels was making a bill! No, although--like all authors--I know each one's taste; What they thought, too; yea, dream't! still I will not now waste Your time or your patience by piece-meal retailing Who in this capacity showed greatest of feeling. Suffice it to say, like the beasts in the fable, They tucked in the victuals as long as they're able; Then applied to the bottle to fill up the chinks, While each mouth to the bridegroom and would-be bride drinks. "And now, pray, Mr. Murphy, we'll have your excuse; No excuse to get off, sir, you'll find of much use," Uncle Jonas exclaimed, as he shook his old head, Just to make it appear he knew more than he said. "Here's my niece has but eaten the third of a dinner,-- Oh, this love it will make e'en the fattest one thinner! She seems vexed with us all, p'rhaps with you not the least, Though I rather believe it is most with the priest."