Roughdom no dirtier, darker danger hath,—
Roughdom, that gulf of guilt with peril rife,
That lurks beneath our glittering civic life,
Like fires beneath the smiling southern wave,
Which, given volcanic vent, make earth a grave
And sea a sepulchre. Top bold it grows
In the neglect of its appointed foes,
The modern Fenris-wolf whose ravening maw
Needs muzzling with the Gleipner-chain of Law.
Eurytus at the banquet gorged with glee;