Thou bardache Thallus! more than Coney's robe
Soft, or goose-marrow or ear's lowmost lobe,
Or Age's languid yard and cobweb'd part,
Same Thallus greedier than the gale thou art,
When the Kite-goddess shows thee Gulls agape, 5
Return my muffler thou hast dared to rape,
Saetaban napkins, tablets of Thynos, all
Which (Fool!) ancestral heirlooms thou didst call.
These now unglue-ing from thy claws restore,
Lest thy soft hands, and floss-like flanklets score 10
The burning scourges, basely signed and lined,
And thou unwonted toss like wee barque tyned
'Mid vasty Ocean vexed by madding wind!
O Thallus the catamite, softer than rabbit's fur, or goose's marrow, or
lowmost ear-lobe, limper than the drooping penis of an oldster, in its
cobwebbed must, greedier than the driving storm, such time as the
Kite-Goddess shews us the gaping Gulls, give me back my mantle which thou
hast pilfered, and the Saetaban napkin and Thynian tablets which, idiot,
thou dost openly parade as though they were heirlooms. These now unglue
from thy nails and return, lest the stinging scourge shall shamefully score
thy downy flanks and delicate hands, and thou unwonted heave and toss like
a tiny boat surprised on the vasty sea by a raging storm.