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,