Page:Boileau's Lutrin - a mock-heroic poem. In six canto's. Render'd into English verse. To which is prefix'd some account of Boileau's writings, and this translation. (IA boileauslutrinmo00boil).pdf/101

 I'm sent, said he, t' inform you from my Lord, A warm Collation smoaks upon the Board; With Art collected, It no Dainty wants Which Luxury can wish, Or the rich Season grants.

He spoke; All catch at once the welcome Sound, Shake of dull Sleep, and from their Pillows bound; Headlong they press, as rapid Lightning, fleet; Yet swifter Appetite out-strips their Feet. Ready to break their Necks, to break their Fast; Each flatters, as he flies, his Eager Taste With entertaining Thoughts of Sweet Repast. But, ah Vain Hope! Fond Man's delusive Bait! Regardful of the Cover'd Hook too late! The disappointed Chapter View their Chief, And find they come not there to Eat, but Grieve. The