Like Tantalus tormented ever,
Let vultures prey upon his liver,
Which, by some retributive power,
Still grows as fast as they devour,
Till passers-by shall point with scorn,
And cry, “’Twere better not be born,
Than thus to writhe in infamy,
As long as sun and stars shall be!”
And when, in some far future age,
The student of creation’s page