Classic Poem

(Yee divine Epicures) whom sacred thirst
Of high Beatitude, doth move,
T'approche this Table; Here drinke, till yee burst
Into a flood of teares, and love:
That heavenly diet, of which Greece did fable,
By Grace, is truely serv'd in to this Table.

All well prepared Appetites, may here
Take diet, whose concoction breedes
Eternall Life, this is that mysticke cheere,
Which both the soule, and body feedes:
Apples of life, compared with this foode,
Appeare not halfe so pleasant, or so good.

With Nectar, and Ambrosia, let the Greekes
Feast their supposititious Jove:
(Egypt) adore thy Garlicke, and thy leekes,
Which may our scorne, not envuye prove
Our foode not onely endles life doth give,
But also makes the dead to rise, and live./