“From lofty roofs the gods repulsed before, Now stooping, enter’d through the little door: The man (their hearty welcome first express’d) A common settle drew for either guest, Inviting each his weary limbs to rest. But ere they sat, officious Baucis lays Two cushions stuff’d with straw, the seat to raise; Coarse, but the best she had; then rakes the load Of ashes from the hearth, and spreads abroad The living coals; and, lest they should expire, With leaves and bark she feeds her infant fire: It smokes; and then with trembling breath she blows, Till in a cheerful blaze the flames arose. With brushwood and with chips she strengthens these, And adds at last the boughs of rotten trees. The fire thus form’d, she sets the kettle on (Like burnish’d gold the little seether shone); Next took the coleworts which her husband got From his own ground (a small, well-water’d spot); She stripp’d the stalks of all their leaves; the best She cull’d, and them with handy care she dress’d. High o’er the hearth a chine of bacon hung; Good old Philemon seized it with a prong, And from the sooty rafter drew it down,