Who importunes the passers-by to throw
Big stones across the opal-shining sand?
Ponto dishevelled, ears turned inside out,
Has suffered some sea change; his social worth
Is all forgot; he leads a Comus rout,
Tykes of the shore and curs of lowly birth.
Yelping with joy he brings his wolfish pack
About my legs, as, dripping from the sea,
I pick my way thro' shingle and wet wrack
Beleaguered by this bandit company.