To see these miracles so finely wrought Fires with transporting joy his giddy thought. The ready slaves prepare a sumptuous board, Spread with rich dainties for their happy lord; Whose powerful hands the bread no sooner hold, But its whole substance is transform’d to gold: Up to his mouth he lifts the savoury meat, Which turns to gold as he attempts to eat: His patron’s noble juice of purple hue, Touch’d by his lips, a gilded cordial grew, Unfit for drink; and, wondrous to behold, It trickles from his jaws a fluid gold.