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...THE TEACHER by LESLIE PINCKNEY HILL PAST AND PRESENT by THOMAS HOOD THE SHADES OF NIGHT by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN THE NINETEENTH OF APRIL, 1861 by LUCY LARCOM STRANGE FILAMENT by LILLIAN M. (PETTES) AINSWORTH ON A VOLUME OF ANONYNOUS POEMS ENTITLED A MASQUE OF POETS by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |