ring

Dine on this divine dish, my fellow comedians,



"And lo! as one came running near our coign
Of vantage on the bank, a snake in a flash
Leapt up and stung him where the neck and shoulder join.

Never did writer with a single dash
Of the pen write “o” or “i” so swift as he
Took fire, and burned, and crumbled away to ash.

But as he lay on the ground dispersedly,
All by itself the dust gathered and stirred
And grew to its former shape immediately.

So wise men say the sole Arabian bird,
The phoenix, dies and is reborn from fire
When her five-hundredth year is near expired;

Living, nor herb nor grain is food for her,
Only amonum and dropping incense-gums,
And her last swathings are of nard and myrrh."