Such Tophet was; so looked the grinning fiend While frighted prelates bow'd and called him friend; I saw them bow, and while they wish'd him dead, With servile simper nod the mitred head. Our Mother-Church with half-averted sight Blush'd as she blesst her griesly proselyte: Hosannahs rung through Hell's tremendous borders, And Satan's self had thoughts of taking orders. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THIS LIME-TREE BOWER MY PRISON by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE TO QUILCA; A COUNTRY HOUSE IN NO GOOD REPAIR by JONATHAN SWIFT HE REMEMBERS FORGOTTEN BEAUTY by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS WRESTLING by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON IN SOME FAR DISTANT TIME by CATHERINE BRADSHAW |