Horace (Quintus Horatius Flaccus) - 2.2.1. lyrics

Learn how great the virtue is, my friends, of plain living (This isn't my advice, but Ofellus' peasant teaching, An unorthodox philosopher, and an ‘idiot' savant) But not amongst the gleaming dishes on the table, When you're dazzled by the sight of senseless show, And the mind tuned to sham things shuns what's better, Discuss it with me here before we eat. ‘But, why now?' I'll tell you if I can. Every judge who's bribed weighs The evidence badly. But when you've hunted hares, Tired by a spirited horse, or when Roman army sports Fatigue one used to all things Greek, or fast ball-games Appeal, where hard toil's sweetened by the competition, Or the discus (hurl that discus through the yielding air!) – When exercise has made you less fastidious, hungry, Thirsty, then spurn plain food, refuse to drink the mead Unless it's honey from Hymettus and red Falernian! The butler's off, a dark and wintry sea hides its fish, Well, bread and salt will soothe a rumbling belly. Why so? The greatest pleasure's not in costly flavours, it resides In you yourself. Obtain your sauce by sweating: pallid Diners, living bloated from excess, can't take delight In their ocean wra**e, or oysters, or imported grouse.