His heart, polluted with the dung

Of demons damn'd, from hell out flung,

Is rotten to the core with lies,

From which foul slanders thickly rise.

His soul, most pitiful and mean,

Infected with hell-scorch'd gangrene,

No kind, redeeming trait contains,

But reeks with bestial blots and stains.

His mind, with vulgar vice imbued,

Libidinous and low and lewd,

Deep stained with malice, hate and spleen,

With sentiments supremely mean,

Is bent on mischief, foul as hell,

O'er which the hideous Centaurs yell.

Low was his birth and low his name,

Low is his life, and low his fame;

[Pg 7]

But lower still the depths of wo,

Where Park, when dead and damn'd, must go.

Friends, foes or fiends, alike he fights,

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