Page:Poems and ballads, third series (IA poemsballadsthir00swin).pdf/147



The tongue is loosed of that most lying slave, Whom stripes may move, not kindness. Listen: 'Lo, The real god of song, Lord Stephano, That's a brave god, if ever god were brave, And bears celestial liquor: but,' the knave (A most ridiculous monster) howls, 'we know From Ariel's lips what springs of poison flow, The chicken-heart blasphemer! Hear him rave!'

Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself Upon thy wicked dam, the witch whose name Is darkness, and the sun her eyes' offence, Though hell's hot sewerage breed no loathlier elf, Men cry not shame upon thee, seeing thy shame So perfect: they but bid thee—'Hag-seed, hence!'