Who carves the meat, as if the flesh could feel,
Careless whose flesh must miss the plenteous meal.
140
Here would the ghost a small coal-fire behold,
Not fit to keep one body from the cold;
Then would it flit to higher rooms, and stay
To view a dull, dress'd company at play;
All the old comfort, all the genial fare
For ever gone! how sternly would it stare;
And, though it might not to their view appear,