Thy half-formed accents tremble on thy tongue.
Of filth enamoured, like a hideous swine,
Daily thou wallowest in a sea of wine.
Earth, air, and ocean, join their ample store,
To cram thy maw, that ceaseless craves for more;
And, worse than beast! to raise thy deaden’d gust,
In nature’s spite thou satest thy monstrous lust.
Black list of crimes! but not enough to fill
Poggio, thy ample register of ill.
Like some black viper, whose pestiferous breath