Stood his Rev’rence, who having been bid to the feast,
Look’d as jocund and joyous, and beaming with smiles,
As the fair Cytherean, when weaving her wiles.[3]
For where is the priest, be he Pagan, Hindoo,
Yellow Bonze from Japan, olive sage from Loo Choo,
A Franciscan Friar, an opium-drench’d Turk,
But loves a fair feast like this banquet at Ferques?
’Twould be tedious to tell, when the service was done,
How that of the gallants was warmly begun,
How, like the old suitors in Livy’s old story,