THERSITES

  So, in the Sunday papers you, Del Mar,
      Damn, all great Englishmen in English speech?
      I am no Englishman, but in my reach
  A rogue shall never rail where heroes are.

  You are the man, if I mistake you not,
      Who lately with a supplicating twitch
      Plucked at the pockets of the London rich
  And paid your share-engraver all you got.

  Because that you have greatly lied, because
      You libel nations, and because no hand
      Of officer is raised to bid you stand,
  And falsehood is unpunished of the laws,

  I stand here in a public place to mark
      With level finger where you part the crowd—
      I stand to name you and to cry aloud:
  "Behold mendacity's great hierarch!"