The Worms

KEEP your distance, quoth King, who in lead coffin lay,
As beside him they lower'd a shrowdless old Clay;
The Mendicant Carcase replied, with a sneer,
"Mister Monarch be still, we are all equal here.

"Life's miseries long I was forc'd to abide,
"By the Seasons sore pelted, sore pelted by pride:
"And tho' clad in ermine, yet you've been distrest,
"Both our cares now are over,—so let us both rest."

A committee of worms, Manor Lords of the Grave,
Overheard 'em and wonder'd to hear the Dead rave.
Quoth the Chairman, Dare mortals presume thus to prate,
When even we Maggots don't think ourselves great?

"Insane ostentations, who brag of their births,
"Yet are but Machines, mix'd of aggregate earths.
"They distinctions demand, with distinctons they meet
"When we throw by the rich folks, as not fit to eat.

"They are scurvy compounds of Debauch and Disease,
"Putrefactions of Sloth, or Vice run to the Lees.
"By Luxury's pestilence Health is laid waste:
"And all they can boast is,—They're poison'd in Taste.

"'Tis true, cries Crawlina, the Queen of the Worms,
"They make upon earth immense noise with their forms,
"Pon onner, with Beauties tho' so much I deal,
"On not one in ten can I make a good meal.

"When we chose to regale, on the dainties of charms,
"We formerly fed on necks, faces, and arms;
"Now Varnish envenoms their tainted complections,
"A fine woman's features spread fatal infections.

"Not a Worm of good taste, and bon ton, I dare vouch,
"A morsel of fashion-made Beauties will touch.
"A Quality Toast we imported last week,—
"Two Maggots, my servants, dy'd eating her cheek."

Very odd, quoth a Critic, Worms hold such discourse.
Very odd, quoth the Author, that Men shou'd talk worse.
Like Reptiles, we crawl upon earth for a term,
Take wing for a while,— then descend to a Worm.

Dan Pope declares all Human Race to be Worms;
Maids, Misses, Wives, Widows, all Maggotty forms.
But of Worms, and worm-feeding, no more we'll repeat,
Here's a glass, To the Dainty that's made for Man's meat