4th July, 1882, Malines. Midnight.

  Belgian, with cumbrous tread and iron boots, 
  Who in the murky middle of the night,
  Designing to renew the foul pursuits
  In which thy life is passed, ill-favoured wight,
  And wishing on the platform to alight
  Where thou couldst mingle with thy fellow brutes,
  Didst walk the carriage floor (a leprous sight),
  As o'er the sky some baleful meteor shoots:
  Upon my slippered foot thou didst descend,
  Didst rouse me from my slumbers mad with pain,
  And laughedst loud for several minutes' space.
  Oh may'st thou suffer tortures without end:
  May fiends with glowing pincers rend thy brain,
  And beetles batten on thy blackened face!