Upon a Miser that made a great feast,
and the next day died for grief.
Nor 'scapes he so; our dinner was so good
My liquorish Muse cannot but chew the cud,
And what delight she took in th' invitation
Strives to taste o'er again in this relation.
After a tedious grace in Hopkins' rhyme,
Not for devotion but to take up time,
Marched the trained-band of dishes, ushered there
To show their postures and then as they were.