[Tophet] Inscription on a Portrait Such Tophet was; so looked the grinning fiend Whom many a frighted prelate called his friend; I saw them bow and, while they wished him dead, With servile simper nod the mitred head. Our Mother-Church with half-averted sight Blushed as she blessed her grisly proselyte: Hosannahs rung through Hell's tremendous borders, And Satan's self had thoughts of taking orders. 