“IPSE EGO ...”
MARSILIO sighed: and drew a rough discord
From his guitar, and sang so to us listeners:
“I too have mounted every step of ice
And dragged my bleeding ankles, hope-enthralled,
To Heaven’s blessed door; when instantly
From side-nooks rising tripped the outer angels,
In thin, light-hammered armour, giggling boys,
But muscular, and with concerted charge
Seized my poor feet, and flung me laughing, laughing,
Laughing, down, down among the insect men
Who look up never, antwise busy—crawling:
Alas! the burden of their feathery laughter,
More bitter than my fall, has pried a passage
Into my luckless head, and ‘Ha-ha, ha-ha!’
Maddens its walls and frets them ruinously:
Beware my flitting pestilence: I’ll not gage
That certain easier outlets may not bring
The noise out and about and thick among you:
O bitter, bitter days for those it visits!”
And murmuring “bitter” with a fading sadness
Marsilio went: the assembly all were silent.