Tea did for Johnson and the Chinamen:
When 'Dulce et desipere in loco'
Was written, real Falernian winged the pen.
When a rapt audience has encored 'Fra Poco'
Or 'Casta Diva,' I have heard that then
The Prima Donna, smiling herself out,
Recruits her flagging powers with bottled stout.

But what is coffee, but a noxious berry,
Born to keep used-up Londoners awake?
What is Falernian, what is Port or Sherry,
But vile concoctions to make dull heads ache?
Nay stout itself--(though good with oysters, very) -
Is not a thing your reading man should take.
He that would shine, and petrify his tutor,
Should drink draught Allsop in its "native pewter."

But hark! a sound is stealing on my ear -
A soft and silvery sound--I know it well.
Its tinkling tells me that a time is near
Precious to me--it is the Dinner Bell.
O blessed Bell! Thou bringest beef and beer,
Thou bringest good things more than tongue may tell:
Seared is (of course) my heart--but unsubdued
Is, and shall be, my appetite for food.

I go. Untaught and feeble is my pen:
But on one statement I may safely venture;
That few of our most highly gifted men
Have more appreciation of the trencher.