Beef and a Bumper

LET those who have nothing to do but to hear,
And those who have nothing to do but to sneer,
Glean Scandal from Infamy's stubble;
Praise is but a vapour, and Censure the same,
Go ask of Philosophers what they call Fame?
'Tis, Anglice, Vanity's bubble.

This scribbling, this pen-and-ink-itch is a crime,
Yet Heaven forgive each poor Sinner in Rhime,
Condemn'd to the pennance of Thinking;
For what are all Similes to a Sirloin?
The flowing of Fountains to filling of Wine?
Huzza! for good eating and drinking.

The Sapphics so soft, the Pindarics so rare,
The Epics, Iambics, and such sort of fare,
With many more names that are harder.
To Turtle, what signifies Tytire tu?
With Classics I beg you'll have nothing to do,
But study the stile of a Larder.

Parnassus and Pegasus, cold Hypocrene,
Are words which I warrant give school-boys the spleen.
And as to the Pedant Apollo,
Let him take his Snuff, let his Sisters drink Tea,
No Coxcombs I want, Sir, no old Maids for me,
But Bacchus and Venus I'll follow.

The Choice Spirit Horace compos'd Lyric Verse,
Catullus and Ovid good Scholars rehearse,
Cap, scan 'em, and conjugate clever;
My Sentiments are for a Sentiment Toast,
And Syntax abolish for bak'd, boil'd, and roast.
So BEEF and a BUMPER for ever!