Small credit to lynx-eye and lightning-spear!
This Guido—(much sport he contrived to make,
Who at first twist, preamble of the cord,
Turned white, told all, like the poltroon he was!)—
Finished, as you expect, a penitent,
Fully confessed his crime, and made amends,
And, edifying Rome last Saturday,
Died like a saint, poor devil! That 's the man
The gods still give to my antagonist:
Imagine how Arcangeli claps wing