"Brother, And thine eye is sunk and dim, And thy neckcloth's tie is crumpled, And thy collar out of trim; There is dust upon thy visage,— Think not, Charles, I would hurt ye, When I say, that altogether You appear extremely dirty. "Frown not, brother, now, but hie thee To thy chamber's distant room; Drown the odours of the ledger With the lavender's perfume. Brush the mud from off thy trousers, O'er the china basin kneel, Lave thy brows in water softened With the soap of Old Castile. "Smooth the locks that o'er thy forehead 'Now in loose disorder stray; Pare thy nails, and from thy whiskers Cut those ragged points away; Let no more thy calculations Thy bewildered brain beset; Life has other hopes than Cocker's, Other joys than tare and tret. "Haste thee, for I ordered dinner, Waiting to the very last, Twenty minutes after seven, And 'tis now the quarter past. 'Tis a dinner which Lucullus Would have wept with joy to see, One, might wake the soul of Curtis From death's drowsy atrophy. "There is soup of real turtle, Turbot, and the dainty sole; And the mottled row of lobsters Blushes through the butter-bowl. There the lordly haunch of mutton, Tender as the mountain grass, Waits to mix its ruddy juices With the girdling caper-sauce. "There a stag, whose branching forehead Spoke him monarch of the herds, He whose flight was o'er the heather Swift as through the air the bird's, Yields for thee a dish of cutlets; And the haunch that wont to dash O'er the roaring mountain-torrent, Smokes in most delicious hash. "There, besides, are amber jellies. Floating like a golden dream; Ginger from the far Bermudas, Dishes of Italian pream; And a princely apple-dumpling, Which my own fair fingers wrought, Shall unfold its nectared treasures To thy lips all smoking hot. "Ha! I see thy brow is clearing, Lustre flashes from thine eyes; To thy lips I see the moisture Of anticipation rise. Hark! the dinner-bell is sounding!" "Only wait one moment, Jane: I'll be dressed, and down, before you Can get up the iced champagne!" |