How strong is my desire 'fore earth and heaven, To tell how daintily I cook'd his dinner 'Gainst his return! By all Athena's owls! 'Tis no unpleasant thing to hit the mark On all occasions. What a fish had I— And ah! how nicely fried! Not all bedevill'd With cheese, or brown'd atop, but though well done, Looking alive, in its rare beauty dress'd. With skill so exquisite the fire I temper'd, It seem'd a joke to say that it was cook'd. And then, just fancy now you see a hen Gobbling a morsel much too big to swallow; With bill uplifted round and round she runs Half-choking; while the rest are at her heels Clucking for shares. Just so 'twas with my soldiers; The first who touch'd the dish upstarted he Whirling round in a circle like the hen, Eating and running; but his jolly comrades, Each a fish worshipper, soon join'd the dance, Laughing and shouting, snatching some a bit, Some missing, till like smoke the whole had vanish'd. Yet were they merely mud-fed river dabs: But had some splendid scaros graced my pan, Or Attic glaucisk, or, O saviour Zeus! Kapros from Argos, or the conger-eel, Which old Poseidon exports to Olympus, To be the food of gods, why then my guests Had rivall'd those above. I have, in fact, The power to lavish immortality On whom I please, or, by my potent art, To raise the dead, if they but snuff my dishes!—J. A. ST. JOHN. * * * * * HEGESIPPUS. (Book vii. § 36, p. 455.)