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. |