An action unsought and insane,
O, moveless and morbid Stylites,
Our Patron of Pain!”
“There are those who still offer to Bacchus,
There are men who Love’s goddess still own,
What right have new faiths to attack us?
And why are our shrines overthrown?
There are poets, inspired by Castalia,
Whose lyres have Anacreon’s strain,
Whose lives are one long saturnalia,