O with what rocking arrogance and laughter
You'll ruffle milord Pluto where he sits
Plucking his outraged beard in windy fits
That shall twitch him most ruefully thereafter!
Scream till the echoes kick at each black rafter
And venerable spiders rub their wits
Quite daft with all this heresy in the pits
Of Hell — with every shriek becoming dafter!

And how the repercussion of your mirth
Shall volley through the grinning corridors
Where that mad motley who have tasted earth
Will pitch their ribaldry until the roars
Assault the kennels and the outer sheds
Of Hell's own mastiff howling with all his heads!