Tossed to the clouds, in fierce vindictive scorn,
The harrowing hound, whose braggart bark and stir
Arched the lithe spine and reared the indignant fur
Of Puss, that with verminicidal claw
Struck the weird rat in whose insatiate maw
Lay reeking malt that erst in Juan’s courts we saw,
Robed in senescent garb that seems in sooth
Too long a prey to Chronos’ iron tooth.
Behold the man whose amorous lips incline,
Full with young Eros’ osculative sign,