Moved to where Satan Reclined alone,
In the silence of thought on his ebon throne.
* * * * *
Proudly he strode to his palace gate,
Which the witch and the Warren approached in state,
But paused at the threshold as onward they came,
And thus, with words of fever and flame,
The tradesman addressed, “Your name, Sir, is known
As a vendor of sables wide over the town;
But in hell with proviso this praise we must mix,