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Ballade of the "Cheshire Cheese" in Fleet Street
Beneath this board Burke's, Goldsmith's knees Were often thrust—so runs the tale—
'Twas here the Doctor took his ease, And wielded speech that like a flail Threshed out the golden truth. All hail,
Great Souls ! that met on nights like these, Till morning made the candles pale,
And revellers left the " Cheshire Cheese." |
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By kindly sense and old decrees
Of England's use they set their sail. We press to never-furrowed seas,
For vision-worlds we breast the gale;
And still we seek and still we fail, For still the " glorious phantom " flees.
Ah well! no phantoms are the ale And beefsteaks of the " Cheshire Cheese." |
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Envoi
If doubts or debts thy soul assail, If Fashion's forms its current freeze,
Try a long pipe, a glass of ale,
And supper at the " Cheshire Cheese." |
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169 |
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