He sat as they sat, fed as they fed,

  Drank ale, and laugh'd, and talk'd, as they did;

  Each playful wile, by Love employ'd,

  He by kind sympathy enjoy'd;

  The Lover's extasies he caught,

  When looks convey'd th' enamour'd thought;

  From breast to breast while raptures bound,

  He prais'd the varied prospects round,

  Compar'd each Lass to Beauty's Queen,

  And own'd it an Elysian scene,

    The jolly God smil'd all propitious,

  But ah! how fatally capricious....

    It chanc'd, amidst this humble Feast,

  A cup of YORKSHIRE DIP was plac'd ...

  A pudding-sauce well-known of yore,

  When folks were frugal, though not poor;

  An olio mixt of sweet and sour.

  Soon as this touch'd his laughing lip,

  That unmixt Nectar us'd to sip,

  He rose, and with a threat'ning frown

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