IF men, when in a rage, inspected Before a glass, their angry features, Most likely they would stand corrected At sight of such distorted creatures; So we may hold a moral mirror Before these myrmidons of passion, And make ill temper see its error, By gravely mimicking its fashion. A sober Cit of Sweeting's Alley, Deemed a warm man on 'Change, was what In temper might be reckoned hot, Indulging many an angry sally Against his wife and servants: -- (this Is no unprecedented state For man and wife, when, @3tete-a-tete,@1 They revel in domestic bliss,) -- But to show off his freaks before his Guests, was @3contra bonos mores.@1 Our Cit was somewhat of a glutton, Or epicure, at least in mutton; Esteeming it a more delicious Feast, than those of old Apicius, Crassus' savoury symposia, Or even Jupiter's ambrosia. One day a leg arrived from Brighton, A true South Down legitimate, When he enlarged with much delight on The fat and grain, and shape and weight; Pronounced on each a learned stricture, Declared the joint a perfect picture, And as his eye its outline followed, Called it a prize -- a lucky hit -- A gem -- a pearl more exquisite Than ever Cleopatra swallowed; Promulging finally, this fiat -- "I'll dine at five, and ask Jack Wyatt." The cover raised, the meat he eyed With new enjoyment -- next the cloth he Tucked in his button-hole, and cried, "Done to a tittle -- brown and frothy!" Then seized the carving-knife, elate, But lo! it would not penetrate The skin -- (the anatomic term is The what-d'-ye-call? -- ay -- epidermis.) He felt the edge -- 'twas like a dump; Whereat with passion-crimson'd frown, He reached the stair-head at a jump, And threw the blade in fury down, Venting unnumbered curses on His thoughtless lazy servant -- John. His guest, observing this disclosure Of temper, threw with great composure The dish, with mutton, spoons and all, Down helter-skelter to the hall, Where it arrived with fearful clatter. "Zounds!" cried the Cit, "why, what's the matter?" "Nothing whatever," with a quiet Look and accent, answered Wyatt: "I hope I haven't unawares Made a mistake; but when you threw The knife below, in such a stew, I thought you meant to dine down stairs!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ST. FRANCIS EINSTEIN OF THE DAFFODILS (FIRST VERSION) by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS A SMUGGLER'S SONG by RUDYARD KIPLING GOD'S DETERMINATIONS: CHRIST'S REPLY by EDWARD TAYLOR THE DISMANTLED SHIP by WALT WHITMAN THE BEST MEMORIAL by AGATHIAS SCHOLASTICUS THRENODY by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 43. FAREWELL TO JULIET (5) by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |