TWO SONNETS IN PRAISE OF A PUBLISHER,
WHO SOUGHT TO INFECT OUR YOUTH WITH HIS
NOXIOUS WARES
The ordure of this goat, who is called ‘* Master Leonard.” —ELIPHAZz LEVI.
He’s the man for muck.— BROWNING.
I.
SMALL coffin-worms that burrow in thy brain
Writhe with delight; thy rotten body teems
With all infesting vermin, as beseems
The mirror of an obscene mind. In vain
Thy misbegotten brutehood shirks the pain
Of its avenging leprosies: death steams
In all thy rank foul atmosphere: the gleams
Of phosphorescent putrefaction wane.
Thy sordid hands reach through the filth to snatch
The offal money of a prurient swarm.
Thy liar’s tongue licks liquid dung to hatch
From fetid ulcers with its slimy warm
Venom some fouler vermin, in their nest
Thy rotten heart and thy polluting breast!
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