I think I never was at any time
A Christian, as you nickname all the world,
Me among others: truce to nonsense now!
Name me, a primitive religionist—
As should the aboriginary be
I boast myself, Etruscan, Aretine,
One sprung—your frigid Virgil's fieriest word—
From fauns and nymphs, trunks and the heart of oak,
With—for a visible divinity—
The portent of a Jove Ægiochus