There was a Franlin with him, it appeared; White as a daisy-petal was his beard. |
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A sanguine° man, high-colored and benign, | |
He loved a morning sop of cake in wine. | |
345 | He lived for pleasure and had always done, |
For he was Epicurus’° very son, | |
In whose opinion sensual delight | |
Was the one true felicity in sight. | |
As noted as St. Julian° was for bounty | |
350 | He made his household free to all the County. |
His bread, his ale were finest of the fine | |
And no one had a better stock of wine. | |
His house was never short of bake-meat pies, | |
Of fish and flesh, and these in such supplies | |
355 | It positively snowed with meat and drink |
And all the dainties that a man could think. | |
According to the seasons of the year | |
Changes of dish were ordered to appear. | |
He kept fat partridges in coops, beyond, | |
360 | Many a bream and pike were in his pond. |
Woe to the cook unless the sauce was hot | |
And sharp, or if he wasn’t on the spot! | |
And in his hall a table stood arrayed | |
And ready all day long, with places laid. | |
365 | As Justice at the Sessions° none stood higher; |
He often had been Member for the Shire.° | |
A dagger and a little purse of silk | |
Hung at his girdle, white as morning milk. | |
As Sheriff he checked audit, every entry. | |
370 | He was a model among landed gentry. |