For ’twas so crass, this outbreak, so wrong-headed,
That every man who did not bend his thoughts
To hang himself was bound to stem its current.
You know I have no heartfelt love for Herod
However low I set my back a-bobbing—
But he has right in this—the Romans are
Too mighty for our strength, we are no more
Than a mere insect in the lion’s gullet.
It cannot sting him, for it’s gulped and gone.
Silo.