“A beam there was, on which a beechen pail Hung by the handle, on a driven nail: This fill’d with water, gently warm’d, they set Before their guests; in this they bathed their feet, And after with clean towels dried their sweat. This done, the host produced the genial bed, Sallow the feet, the borders, and the sted, Which with no costly coverlet they spread, But coarse old garments; yet such robes as these They laid alone at feasts on holydays. The good old housewife, tucking up her gown The table sets; the invited gods lie down. The trivet-table of a foot was lame, A blot which prudent Baucis overcame, Who thrust beneath the limping leg a sherd; So was the mended board exactly rear’d: Then rubb’d it o’er with newly-gather’d mint, A wholesome herb, that breathed a grateful scent. Pallas began the feast, where first was seen The parti-colour’d olive, black and green: Autumnal cornels next in order served, In lees of wine well pickled and preserved. A garden salad was the third supply, Of endive, radishes, and succory: