8 
THE WORLD’S TRAGEDY. 
 
SILENUS 
 
Ha, you rogue, if Rhodon rage, 
Poets earn a cynic page ; 
And our lips with laughter curl 
If she treat you as a girl. 
 
CHIRON 
 
Brute, get back to wine, and leave us 
In our flower-love to inweave us. 
All we know the shameless chorus : 
“ Fie !  Silenus — Heliorus ! ” 
 
HELIORUS 
 
I had better right to mock you, 
Graceless Chiron, with the quip 
(Girls, come close — the jest will shock you) 
“ Pine-tree with the drooping tip ! ” 
 
CHIRON 
 
Oh, you little toad of spite ! 
Come, and I will set you right. 
All your years of wantoness 
Shall not save you — much distress.