Her beating heart, and gladden'd eyes
Perceive him ope the wicker gate;
And swift her busy hand supplies
The flowing bowl, the steaming plate;
Her sparkling wine from their own vintage press'd;
From their own stores her grateful viand dress'd;
Less welcome far the proud collation,
Cull'd with painful preparation,
When earth, and air, and seas, have been explor'd
For those expensive meats, that pile the Consul's board.