From the men-cooks' superior waste
To fireless kitchen's cold repast;
From ham and fowl and beef and veal,
To a lean shoulder's third day meal,
From well-skimm'd broths, to greasy pot,—
But this was now our Hero's lot:
And here, perhaps, it may be fair
To ask what chance could bring him there;
For expectation sure might think
That he would rather soar than sink,