"Most savage of the savage Centaurs," he,
As Ovid sings. Pirithous, lulled to trust,
Forgot the secret strength the lurking lust,
Until wine-freed and fury-fired they broke,
From sleek civility's too slender yoke;
Then tables overset, and feast disturbed,
Destructiveness unleashed, and wrath uncurbed,
"The appearance of a captured city," lent
To the late scene of concord and content;
Then disappointed craft and thwarted greed,