  Like whirlwinds disturbing a night’s repose, Came whispered breathings; then loud cries arose, Some boldly cursed this matrimonial life, Some cursed the old man, and some cursed the wife. As ancient Hero’s are renown’d in song For rescuing virtue from the oppressor’s wrong, So let these stand on the historic page As the great living bombasts of the age; In the great sermons they do daily preach, In the great lessons they do daily teach, They ring the faults of others—not their own, They growl and snarl like a dog with his bone; They villify others—glorify self, Ofttimes they do it for mere worldly pelf; They weep and groan with apparent sorrow, At things they will do themselves on the morrow. Like crested snake in Afric’s sunny vales, Which shifts its skin, throws off its tarnished scales, So will they change their colors—seem more young, But carry poisonous venom in each tongue. |
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