He said — The Children of the Bays
Sent up a Shout of mingled Praise,
Devoutly promising to pay
Obedience to the Prince of Day;
And now they see the Tables spread
With Dainties and  Bread,
Whose tiny Loaves were nicely white,
And no  Rolls were half so light:
The first bold Course was brought along
In Dishes made of  Song.
Next  on the Table shines,
And then smooth  tender Lines.
The gay Desert expos'd to view,
Of modern Authors not a few,
Heroicks in the midst preside,
With Elegy on either Side:
Here through transparent Sonnets gleam
Whip-Syllabubs and spiced Cream:
There loaded Epigrams appear,
And little Mottos close the Rear.