Although no stupid scoffer, I

Am wholly at a loss

To apprehend the reason why

You kiss Lorenzo’s Cross.

For though indeed a hundred days’

Indulgence thus you win,

There does not move a lip but says

That you did never sin.

Ha! but I did not read the whole.

I see it now; the gain

May be applied to any soul

In purgatorial pain.

And oh, how many spirits lie

In such sad bondage through

Having too often passed it by

Whilst gazing after you!

They longed, instead, your lips to kiss;

Their wish, though vain, was clear;

They fondly thought they would by this

Make sure of heaven here.

Indulgence each your lip acquires,

On them it doth bestow;

And you who lighted here their fires,

Do quench their flames below.

And so you soothe-’tis only fair-

The souls you lately vexed.

‘Tis lucky you have grace to spare

For this world and-the next.