So beauteous are the figures, that instead Of eating, on the painted walls they stare;
Albeit of meat they have no little need, Who wearied sore with that day's labour are.
With grief the sewer, with grief the cook takes heed, How on the table cools the untasted fare.
Nay, there is one amid the crowd, who cries, "First fill your bellies, and then feast your eyes."