TO DR. LISTER.
INGENIOUS LISTER, were a picture drawn
With Cynthia's face, but with a neck like Brawn;
With wings of Turkey, and with feet of Calf;
Though drawn by Kneller; it would make you laugh!
Such is, good Sir, the figure of a Feast,
By fome rich Farmer's wife and fifter dreft;
Which, were it not for plenty and for steam,
Might be resembled to a fick man's dream,
Where all ideas huddling run so fast,
That Syllabubs come first, and Soups the last.
Not but that Cooks and Poets ftill were free,
To use their power in nice variety;
Hence Mackarel feem delightful to the eyes,
Though drefs'd with incoherent Gooseberries.
Crabs, Salmon, Lobsters, are with Fennel spread,
Who never touch'd that herb till they were dead;
Yet no man lards falt Pork with Orange-peel,
Or garnishes his Lamb with Spitchcock'd Eel.
A Cook perhaps has mighty things profefs'd,
Then fent up but two dishes nicely drefs'd:
What fignify Scotcht-collops to a Feast?
Or you can make whipp'd Cream; pray what relief
Will that be to a Sailor who wants Beef;
Who, lately fhip-wreck'd, never can have ease,
Till re-eftablifh'd in his Fork and Pease?
When once begun, let induftry ne'er ccafe
Till it has render'd all things of one piece :
At your Deffert bright Pewter comes too late,
When your
firft courfe was all ferv'd up in Plate.
Most knowing Sir! the greateft part of Cooks,
Searching for truth, are cozen'd by its looks.
One would have all things little; hence has tried
Turkey-poults fresh'd, from th' Egg in Batter fried :
Others, to fhew the largenefs of their foul,
Prepare you Muttons fwol'd, and Oxen whole.
To vary the fame things, fome think is art:
By larding of Hogs-feet and Bacon-tart,
The taste is now to that perfection brought,
That care, when wanting fkill, creates the fault.
In Covent-Garden did a Taylor dwell,
Who might deferve a place in his own Hell:
Give him a fingle coat to make, he'd do 't;
A veft, or breeches, fingly: but the brute
Could ne'er contrive all three to make a fuit:
Rather than frame a Supper like fuch cloaths,
I'd have fine eyes and teeth, without my nofe.
You that from pliant Pafte would fabricks raife, Expecting thence to gain immortal praife,
Your knuckles try, and let your finews know
Their power to knead, and give the form to dough; 50
Chufe your materials right, your feafening fix,
And with your Fruit refplendent Sugar mix :
From thence of course the figure will arife,
And elegance adorn the furface of your Pies.
Beauty from order fprings: the judging eye
Will tell you if one fingle plate 's awry.
The Cook muft ftill regard the present time;
T'omit what 's just in season is a crime.
Your infant Pease t' Afparagus prefer,
Which to the Supper you may best defer.
Be cautious how you change old bills of fare,
Such alterations fhould at least be rare;
Yet credit to the Artift will accrue,
Who in known things ftill makes th' appearance new.
Fresh dainties are by Britain's traffick known,
And now by conftant use familiar grown.
What Lord of old would bid his Cook prepare,
Mangoes, Potargo, Champignons, Caveare?
Or would our thrum-capp'd Ancestors find fault,
For want of Sugar-tongs, or Spoons for Salt?
New things produce new words, and thus Monteth
Has by one veffel fav'd his name from death.
The Seasons change us all. By Autumn's froft,
The fhady leaves of trees and fruit are loft.
But then the Spring breaks forth with fresh supplies,
And from the teeming Earth new buds arise.
So Stubble-geefe at Michaelmas are seen
Upon the fpit; next May produces Green.
The fate of things lies always in the dark :
What Cavalier would know St. James's Park *?
For Locket's ftands where gardens once did fpring;
And Wild-ducks quack where Grafshoppers did fing;
A Princely Palace on that space does rife,
Where Sedley's noble Muse found Mulberries †.
Since Places alter thus, what conftant thought
Of filling various dishes can be taught?
For he pretends too much, or is a fool,
Who'd fix thofe things where Fashion is a rule.
King Hardicnute, midst Danes and Saxons flout,
Carouz'd in nut-brown Ale, and din'd on Grout;
Which difh its pristine honour still retains,
And, when each Prince is crown'd, in splendour reigns.
In the time of king Henry VIII, the Park was a wild wet field; but that prince, on building St. James's palace, inclosed it, laid it out in walks, and, collecting the waters together, gave to the new-inclofed ground and new-raifed building the name of St. James. It was much enlarged by Charles II; who added to it feveral fields, planted it with rows of lime-trees, laid out the Mall, formed the canal, with a decoy, and other ponds, for water-fowl. The "Lime-trees or Tilia," whofe bloffoms are incomparably fragrant, were probably planted in confequence of a fuggeftion of Mr. Evelyn, in his " Fumifugium," published in 1661.-The im provements lately made feem in fome measure to have brought it into the ftate it was in before the Reftoration; at least, the Wild-ducks have in their turn given way to the Grafshoppers. N.
A comedy called, "The Mulberry Garden." N.
By Northern cuftom, duty was exprefs'd,
To friends departed, by their Funeral Feast.
Though I've confulted Holinshed and Stow,
I find it very difficult to know
Who, to refresh th' attendants to a grave,
Burnt-claret firft or Naples-bifcuit gave.
Trotter from Quince and Apples first did frame A Pye, which still retains his proper name : Though common grown, yet, with white Sugar ftrow'd, And butter'd right, its goodness is allow'd.
As Wealth flow'd in, and Plenty sprang from Peace, Good-humour reign'd, and Pleasures found increase. "Twas usual then the banquet to prolong
By Musick's charm, and fome delightful song;
Where every youth in pleasing accents ftrove
To tell the ftratagems and cares of Love;
How fome fuccefsful were, how others croft;
Then to the sparkling glass would give his toaft,
Whofe bloom did most in his opinion fhine,
To relish both the Mufick and the Wine.
Why am I ftyl❜d a Cook, if I'm so loth
To marinate my Fifh, or feafon Broth,
Or fend up what I roast with pleasing froth;
If I my Master's gufto won't difcern,
But, through my bashful folly, fcorn to learn?
When among friends good-humour takes its birth,
'Tis not a tedious Feast prolongs the mirth;
But 'tis not reason therefore you should spare,
When, as their future Burgess, you prepare
For a fat Corporation and their Mayor.
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