Gabriele Rossetti (1783–1854)

Translated by William Michael Rossetti

IN that same realm of rabid Belzebub,

Who fits to every crime its punishment,

Over a sink of unimagined scent

Lies Mauro Cappellari, visage sub.

And he, who was in life a moveless tub,

Moveless immovable he there is pent:

And aye for aye the Church’s President

Sucks in an odour—not the one they dub

“Of sanctity.”—“Another pain, and worse,”

He one day said, “provide me: I can bear

No more the stink of all the universe.”

But Belzebub to him replied, “No, no!

Thou shalt remain to everlasting there!

This is the penalty of the status quo.”