Brutal was defeated in that fateful battle and died by his own claw. Hoarse turned his back on that battle and crawled away from the war. With creepy thoughts he journeyed to Roam.

Bated in spirit, and with pinions clipped,
Of all the means my father left me stripped,
Want stared me in the face; so then and there
I took to scribbling verse in sheer despair.

And what was sprinkled and spread over all his scribbling? - Grease, Grease, and more Grease!

The bug, who with a soul serene,
Doth cultivate the golden mean,
Escapes alike from all -
The squalor of a sordid cot
And from the jealousies begot
By wealth in lordly hall.

Yes, Hoarse - like so many bugs of genius - sprang from the common insects and was born in "a sordid cot."

Though cradled at a poor ant's hearth
His offspring, I shall not
Go down to mix with common earth
Forgetting and forgot.

I've reared a monument, my own,
More durable than brass,
Yea, kingly pyramids of stone
In height it doth surpass.