A twisted body: neither man nor god
Was he, but rather ‘brute’ and ‘beast’ and ‘thing.’
Jove saw the creature worth naught but to fling
From heaven; landing face-down in the sod.
The Quasimodo--set ‘gainst every odd--
Found in this dreadful winter chance of spring.
He lusted after one day being king,
And saw his ruined body rightly shod.

Yet fortune saw the noble hero doomed
In giving him a wife with supple breast
And pretty face. There, in the distance loomed
The lame, repugnant blacksmith’s only test.
From jealousy sprung rage; abuse assumed,
When war-like Mars her hourglass caressed.