As the gentiles imbue sour wines
and lay with their mothers
their minds shape by green envy
and no laurels to grace
they cast fevered flicking tongues
to those who have
walked the Appian way and seen Olympus
what do the craven say
but spake ashes from the burning ruins
from mouth of rancour
where worms eat worms and call it lion flesh
and wastrels in temples
call those that drink from the fountain's light
beggars in moonbeams
the prodigal citizens pales before Bacchus
trading heirlooms and tithes
and sickened in minds and crippling angst
they curse the deities
and blame the scholars and nobility sublime
its a thousand year old story