Nor are my virtues Here unknown,
Tho' old and wrinkled now I'm grown.
Black as I am, the fairest maid
Invokes my stimulating aid,
To give her food the poignant flavour;
And to each sauce, its proper savour.
Pasties, ragouts and fricassees,
Without my seasoning, fail to please:
'Tis I, like wit, must give a zest,
And sprightliness, to every feast.