THE IMPARTIAL BANQUET.
The unfashionable worm,
Respectless of crown-illumined brow,
To cheek's bewitchment, or the sceptred clench,
With no more eyes than Love, creeps courtier-like,
On his thin belly, to his food,—no matter
How clad or nicknamed it might strut above,
What age or sex,—it is his dinner-time.