AN EPICURE TO HIS LOVE.
My Queen, Mayonnaise! Oh, give ear to thy lover—
Oh, pity his passion, my sweet Mayonnaise!
Just one glance from those eyes which (like eggs of the plover!)
Can kill—(or be cooked)—in a hundred of ways!
When first I beheld thee my thoughts flew unbidden
To dishes I'd eaten—so fair to the eye.
That I've looked and I've looked till the flavour they've hidden
Was forgot at the sight of the dish, or the pie.
Oh, grant that our loves, like potage à la crême,
Flow gently and smoothly along through the days.
(To me it's the same, for though Mabel's thy name,
To me thou art ever my sweet "Mayonnaise.")
White as snow are thy teeth that, like riz à l'Anglaise,
Shine forth between lips red as sauce écrevisse;
And the truffle-like beauty-spot nestles and says,
"Come and kiss next the dimple and taste, dear, of bliss!"
Dinde de Bresse is not plumper nor fairer than thee;
And thy gown and its trimmings thy beauties enhance.
None so sweet in the country of Gruyère and Brie,
Where St. Sauce counts for more than St. Louis of France.
Nay, turn not your head. Never blush portugaise,
Be tender as chaufroid of veal à la reine—
(A dish for the gods!—not what Englishmen praise,
Indigestible veal qui ne "veau" pas la pain!)
Hot as sauce rémoulade though thy temper may be—
Though caprice gall thy thoughts till thy brain's panaché—
I'll love thee and love thee—I swear it by THEE!—
The roast thou shalt rule, by night and by day!
My Queen, Mayonnaise, oh give ear to my prayer!
Be my love—be my wife! Come, Mayonnaise dear,
And to Paris we'll fly, and at Bignon's we'll fare,
And the evening we'll spend at the Menus-Plaisirs!
Though Tortoni's no more, we may still taste of joy,
For I wot of a house where a goddess might eat—
Where the palate's not worried, the dishes don't cloy,
Where to eat is to live, and to drink is a treat!
Behold, Mayonnaise, I'm the slave of thy wishes—
A lover devoted who cannot do less
Than to set on thy table the daintiest dishes;
So the man thou mayst love, while the cook thou dost bless.
New Arrangement of Motto for the French (Suggested Gallus Anti-Gallicanus).—"Liberté, Ill-égalité, Fraternité!"