Classic Poem

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,
Deem'd 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, tête-a-tête ,
They revel in domestic bliss,) —
But to show off his freaks before his
Guests, was contra bonos mores .

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 follow'd,
Call'd it a prize — a lucky hit —
A gem — a pearl more exquisite
Than ever Cleopatra swallow'd;
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
Tuck'd 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 reach'd the stair-head at a jump,
And threw the blade in fury down,
Venting unnumber'd 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, answer'd 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! "