"The flesh of kid is rarely fine, That has been chiefly fed on vine." "To meadow mushrooms give the prize, And trust no others, if you're wise." "Till I had the example shown, The art was utterly unknown Of telling, when you taste a dish, The age and kind of bird or fish." Horace professes to be enraptured at the depth of sagacity and beauty of expression in what he hears, and exclaims,-- "Oh, learned Catius, prithee, by Our friendship, by the gods on high, Take me along with you, to hear Such wisdom, be it far or near! For though you tell me all--in fact, Your memory is most exact-- Still there must be some grace of speech, Which no interpreter can reach. The look, too, of the man, the mien! Which you, what fortune! having seen, May for that very reason deem Of no account; but to the stream, Even at its very fountain-head, I fain would have my footsteps led, That, stooping, I may drink my fill, Where such life-giving saws distil." Manifestly the poet was no gastronome, or he would not have dealt thus sarcastically with matters so solemn and serious as the gusts, and flavours, and "sacred rage" of a highly-educated appetite. At the same time, there is no reason to suppose him to have been insensible to the attractions of the "_haute cuisine_," as developed by the genius of the Vattel or Francatelli of Maecenas, and others of his wealthy friends. Indeed, he appears to have been prone, rather than otherwise, to attack these with a relish, which his feeble digestion had frequent reason to repent. His servant Davus more than hints as much in the passage above quoted (p. 83); and the consciousness of his own frailty may have given additional vigour to his assaults on the ever-increasing indulgence in the pleasures of the table, which he saw gaining ground so rapidly around him. CHAPTER VI. HORACE'S LOVE POETRY. When young, Horace threw himself ardently into the pleasures of youth; and his friends being, for the most part, young and rich, their banquets were sure to be sumptuous, and carried far into the night. Nor in these days did the "_blanche aux yeux noirs_," whose beauty and accomplishments formed the crowning grace of most bachelors' parties, fail to engage a liberal share of his attention. He tells us as much himself (Epistles, I. 14), when contrasting to the steward of his farm the tastes of his maturer years with the habits of his youth. "He, whom fine clothes became, and glistering hair, Whom Cinara welcomed, that rapacious fair, As well you know, for his own simple sake, Who on from noon would wine in bumpers take, Now quits the table soon, and loves to dream And drowse upon the grass beside a stream," adding, with a sententious brevity which it is hopeless to imitate, "_Nec lusisse pudet, sed non incidere ludum_,"-- "Nor blushes that of sport he took his fill; He'd blush, indeed, to be tomfooling still."