And, glutton-like, luxuriously pleased
With his own flesh, his hungry maw appeased.
Nay, such a blindness o'er his senses falls,
That he for Itys to the table calls.
When Procne, now impatient to disclose
The joy that from her full revenge arose,
Cries out, in transports of a cruel mind,
'Within yourself, your Itys you may find.'
Still at this puzzling answer with surprise,
Around the room he winds his curious eyes;