The Vultures

Foul-feathered and scald-necked,

They sit in evil state;

Raw marks upon their breasts

As on men's wearing chains.

Impure, though they may plunge

Into the morning's springs;

And spirit-dulled, though they

Command the heights of heaven.

Angels of foulness ye,

So fierce against the dead!-

Sloth on your muffled wings,

And speed within your eyes!