Dum licet, in rebus jucundis vive beatus :
Vive memor, quam sis ævi brevis. Hæc ubi dicta
Agrestem pepulere, domo levis exsilit: inde
Ambo propositum peragunt iter, urbis aventes
Mœnia nocturni subrepere. jamque tenebat
Nox medium cœli spatium, cum ponit uterque
In locuplete domo vestigia: rubro ubi cocco
Tincta super lectos canderet vestis eburnos ;
Multaque de magna superessent fercula cœna,
Quæ procul exstructis inerant hesterna canistris.
Ergo ubi purpurea porrectum in veste locavit
Agrestem; veluti succinctus cursitat hospes,
Continuatque dapes: necnon verniliter ipsis
Fungitur officiis, prælibans omne quod affert.
Ille cubans gaudet mutata sorte, bonisque
Rebus agit lætum convivam: cum subito ingens
Valvarum strepitus lectis excussit utrumque.
Currere per totum pavidi conclave; magisque

(Twas on the night of a Debate,
When all their Lordships had sate late.)
Behold the place, where if a Poet
Shin'd in Description, he might shew it;
Tell how the Moon-beam trembling falls,
(And tips with Silver all the walls;
Palladian walls, Venetian doors,
Grotesco roofs, and Stucco floors:
But let it (in a word) be said,

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The Moon was up, and Men a-bed,

The Napkins white, the Carpet red;

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The Guests withdrawn had left the Treat,
And down the Mice sate, tête à tête.

Our Courtier walks from dish to dish, Tastes for his Friend of Fowl and Fish;

Tells all their names, lays down the law, "Que ça est bon ! Ah gouter ça!

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That Jelly's rich, this Malmsey healing,

Pray, dip your Whiskers and your Tail in."
Was ever such a happy Swain?

He stuffs and swills, and stuffs again.

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I'm quite asham'd-'tis mighty rude

To eat so much-but all's so good.

I have a thousand thanks to give—
My Lord alone knows how to live."
No sooner said, but from the Hall
Rush Chaplain, Butler, Dogs and all :
"A Rat! a Rat! clap to the door"—
The Cat comes bouncing on the floor.
O for the heart of Homer's Mice,
Or Gods to save them in a trice!

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Exanimes trepidare, simul domus alta Molossis Personuit canibus. tum rusticus, Haud mihi vita Est opus hac, ait, et valeas: me silva, cavusque Tutus ab insidiis tenui solabitur ervo.

(It was by Providence they think,)

For your damn'd Stucco has no chink.

"An't please your Honour," quoth the Peasant,

"This same Dessert is not so pleasant:

Give me again my hollow Tree,

A Crust of Bread, and Liberty!"

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