Classic Poem

Discord beheld, and with enraptured eyes
Shrieked a delight which tore into the skies:
The dark air, groaning with the dreadful blow,
Rolls a deep thunder to the far Citeaux,
Where midst fat Elves and Pleasures nonchalant,
The soft Indulgence keeps her favourite haunt:
Some, laughing, paint a monk's cheek red as wine;
Some in a corner feed an embonpoint ;
Low bends Voluptuousness with Magd'len hairs;
And Sleep sheds poppies in the shape of prayers.