186

DEATH S DOINGS.

Tom knew this fact, and thought it justThat wealth should circulate, and must:The only truth, at Brazen-nose,Which in his mem'ry would repose;And, now, like philosophic wight,He proved it practically right.For this, he hired cooks, who knewNot the old-fashioned roast and stew;But how to concentrate a legOf beef in compass of an egg;The essence from a ham express;Display a turbot in full dress;Make perigot and lobster-pie,And tickle oysters till they cry,With the excess of ecstasy," Come eat me ! eat me ! or I die."

Such were Tom's cooks, his table ownedTheir excellence, and deeply groanedWith their productions, formed to makeThe dullest appetite awake.Philosophers may boast of mind;Wits of the wreaths by Fancy twined;Churchmen discourse of ParadiseProspective for the good and wise;