A GREEDY EATER!  He is worst of all. 
  The gourmand bolts and bolts, and smacks his chops—­
  Eyes every dish that enters, with a stare
  Of greed and terror, lest one thing go by him. 
  The glances that he casts along the board,
  At every slice that’s carved, have that in them
  Beyond description.  I would rather dine
  Beside an ox—­yea, share his cog of draff;
  Or with a dog, if he’d keep his own side;
  Than with a glutton on the rarest food. 
    A thousand times I’ve dined upon the waste,
  On dry-pease bannock, by the silver spring. 
  O, it was sweet—­was healthful—­had a zest;
  Which at the paste my palate ne’er enjoyed. 
  My bonnet laid aside, I turned mine eyes
  With reverence and humility to heaven,
  Craving a blessing from the bounteous Giver;
  Then grateful thanks returned.  There was a joy
  In these lone meals, shared by my faithful dog,
  Which I remind with pleasure, and has given
  A verdure to my spirit’s age.  Then think
  Of such a man, beside a guzzler set;
  And how his stomach nauseates the repast. 
    “When he thinks of days he shall never more see. 
  Of his cake and his cheese, and his lair on the lea,
  His laverock that hung on the heaven’s ee-bree,
    His prayer and his clear mountain rill.” 
  I cannot eat one morsel.  There is that,
  Somewhere within, that balks each bold attempt;
  A loathing—­a disgust—­a something worse: 
  I know not what it is.  A strong desire
  To drink, but not for thirst.  ’Tis from a wish
  To wash down that enormous eater’s food—­
  A sympathetic feeling.  Not of love! 
  And be there ale, or wine, or potent draught
  Superior to them both, to that I fly,
  And glory in the certainty that mine
  Is the ethereal soul of food, while his
  Is but the rank corporeal—­the vile husks
  Best suited to his crude voracity. 
  And far as the bright spirit may transcend
  Its mortal frame, my food transcendeth his.

    A CREDITOR!  Good heaven, is there beneath
  Thy glorious concave of cerulean blue,
  A being formed so thoroughly for dislike,
  As is a creditor?  No, he’s supreme,
  The devil’s a joke to him!  Whoe’er has seen
  An adder’s head upraised, with gleaming eyes,
  About to make a spring, may form a shade
  Of mild resemblance to a creditor. 
    I do remember once—­’tis long agone—­
  Of stripping to the waist to wade the Tyne—­
  The English Tyne, dark, sluggish, broad, and deep;
  And just when middle-way, there caught mine eye,
  A lamprey of enormous size pursuing me! 
  L——­ what a fright!  I bobb’d, I splashed, I flew. 
  He had a creditor’s keen, ominous look,
  I never saw an uglier—­but a real one. 
    This is implanted in man’s very nature,
  It cannot be denied.  And once I deemed it
  The most degrading stain our nature bore: