To the Lord of the universe the Devil said: A firebrand Adam grows, that pinch of dust.

Meager-souled, plump of flesh, in fine clothes trussed, brain ripe and subtle, heart not far from dead.

What the East’s sacred law made men abjure, the casuist of the West pronounces pure.

Knowest Thou not, the girls of Paradise see: And mourn their gardens turning wilderness?

For fiends its rulers serve the populace: Beneath the heavens is no more need of me!