Methinks
we need an antidote to yesterday’s post about the shocking and gluttonous
secular clergy of the Middle Ages. I have just the thing in a little poem (or
perhaps it is a prayer) from Poetry for Children,
selected by W. Burdon (1805.)
The Glutton.
THE
voice of the glutton I heard with disdain,
I've
not eaten this hour, I must eat again;
O!
give me a pudding, a pye, or a tart,
A
duck, or a fowl, which I love from my heart;
How sweet is the
picking
Of capon or chicken,
A turkey and chine
Is most charming and fine;
To
eat and to drink, all my pleasure is still,
I
care not what 'tis if I have but my fill.
O!
let me not be like the glutton inclin'd,
In
feasting my body, and starving my mind;
"With
moderate viands be thankful, and pray
That
the Lord may supply me with food the next
day:
But little and sweet,
Be the food that I eat;
To
learning and wisdom, O! let me apply,
And
leave to the glutton his pudding and pie.
Moderation in all things is
the only sensible option, is it not, for those of us who should be grateful
that we do have options? I see no harm in a little piece of rich cake now and
again.
A Rich Cake.
Prepare and plump before the fire seven pounds of
currants, four pounds of dried flour, four pounds of nice fresh butter, two
pounds of prepared almond paste, four pounds of eggs, leaving out half the
whites ; three pounds of double-refined sugar; mace, cloves, and cinnamon, of
each a quarter of an ounce; three large nutmegs, beaten fine, a little ginger;
sack and brandy, of each half a pint; orange, citron, lemon-peel, and almonds
in fillets, half a pound of each. When the eggs have been well beaten, work in
the almond paste; mix the butter, worked to a cream; add them together, and
beat till white and thick; add the flour, wine, brandy, and spices, sifting in
the sugar by degrees; see that the oven is ready; prepare and butter the hoop,
and just as it is to be filled, put in the fruit. It must have a quick oven: it
will take four hours. Test it, by running a knife into the centre.
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