The odour of some flesh at last.
Huzza! it is old Dobbin's steed,
On which we daintily shall feed.
I know the scent of divers courses,
And own the present as a horse's."

A sexton, busy at his trade,
Paused, to hear more, upon his spade;
For death was puzzled in his brain
With sexton fees and sexton gain.

He spoke, and said: "You blundering fowls,
Nought better in your scent than owls:
It is the squire of Hawthorn Hall,
Who now is lying under pall.
I dig his grave;--a pretty bit
Of work it is--though I say it.
A horse's! Ah! come out of that;
Yet needs must own that squire was fat.
What then? Do you birds make pretence
To smelling--which is a fifth sense--
And yet your sense of smell so coarse is
You can't distinguish man and horse's?"

"I," said the bird, "did not intend
To do you disrespect, my friend:
Indeed, we no reflection meant
By such similitude of scent.
The Arabs--epicures--will feed,
Preferring it to all, on steed;
As Britons, of your proper brood.
Think venison to be mighty good."

The sexton roared with indignation,
And spoke, methinks, about salvation;
At any rate, his rage to carry on,
He called the ravens brutes and carrion!
The situation of the foes
Prevented they should come to blows:
But for revilings vile, as friends--
They banded words, to gain their ends.

"Hold!" said the raven, "human pride
Cannot by reason be defied.
The point is knotty; tastes may err:
Refer it to some connoisseur."

And, as he spoke, a worn unrolled
His monstrous volumes from the mould;
They chose him for the referee,
And on the pleadings they agree.

The earthworm, with a solemn face,
Reviewed the features of the case:
"For I," said he, "have doubtless dined
On carcases of every kind;
Have fed on man, fowl, beast, and fish,
And know the flavour of each dish.
A glutton is the worst: for the rest
'Tis difficult to tell the best.
If I were man, I would not strive
Upon this question,--man alive!
With other points to win applause:
The King who gives his people laws
Unto the people, who obey them;
And, though at last Death comes to slay them,
Yet were the noble souls and good
Never resigned to worms for food.
Virtue distinguishes mankind,--
Immortal is