XXVII.

"'Twas Vishnu, thou vile whirligig!" and so The good old quarrel was begun anew; One would have sworn the sky was black as sloe, Had but the other darned to call it blue; Nor were the followers who fed them slow To treat each other with their curses, too, Each hating t'other (moves it tears or laughter?) Because he thought him sure of hell hereafter.