Figure B1 TEMPEST

South thro’ lofty arches we repair

Onto a broad pavillion looking out

From a high prospect: this the realm of Air

Array’d with marble pillars, round about

The zephyr’s whisper and the Typhoon’s shout

Deafen our hearing — but there are not words

Can tell the vapours, nitrous, rich and stout

Arising from the colony of Birds

Which, nesting here, begrime the marble with their Turds.