I told you, sir, they were red‑hot with...
I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking;
So fun of valour that they smote the air
For breathing in their faces, beat the ground
For kissing of their feet; yet always bending
Towards their project. Then I beat my tabour,
At which, like unbacked colts, they pricked their ears,
Advanced their eyelids, lifted up their noses
As they smelt music. So I charmed their ears
That calf-like they my lowing followed through
Toothed briars, sharp furzes, pricking goss and thorns,
Which entered their frail shins. At last I left them
I'th' filthy-mantled pool beyond your cell,
There dancing up to th' chins, that the foul lake
O'er-stunk their feet.
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Submitted by Emily Ezust [Administrator]
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Text added to the website: 2010-01-21.
Last modified: 2014-06-16 10:03:31
Line count: 14
Word count: 111
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