Satire; Spanish literature -- Translations into English
The demon observing my surprise, told me, the devil usually devoured
goods unjustly acquired: “have you not,” said he, “heard it remarked,
that property illy gotten, failed not _to go to the devil_? It comes to
us; for be it known to you, that what is lost in the world, falls down
here. You can find in our magazines things of every description: the
entire shops of merchants, stores of grain and wine, tons of silver, an
arsenal filled with arms, cabinets of jewellery and precious stones,
tablets covered with antique medals, a kind of pantheon, filled with
idols of gold, silver, and bronze, which you have no doubt seen at the
houses of antiquaries: for the fruits of larcenies, spunging, and usury,
always come straight to us.”
After the desert, the Jews and Turks brought coffee, tea, chocolate,
tobacco, aqua vitæ, liquors, and opium. The lords drank of all, and
Jupiter partook so freely of tobacco and brandy, that he became quite
elevated: he began to sing a song in the Greek language, the substance of
which was: “What a charming spectacle for the mighty Lucifer! the dead
dispersed throughout this cavern, are to him delicious meats. Subtle
Love, and you gods of combat, theft, and drunkenness, contribute to
content the taste and desires of our sovereign. So long as one remains
in Tartarus, he must not hope for any other pleasure; we must not think
of objects to be procured in other places.”—While Jupiter repeated this
song, Juno accompanied him, saying: “So long as one regains in Tartarus,
he must not hope for any other pleasure. Lovers, you enhance our joy,
for death hath separated you for ever.”—In imitation of Jupiter and Juno,
Mercury and Mars sang thus: “Yes, while one remains in Tartarus, he
cannot hope for other pleasures. The money which was our love, is lost
for ever: we love it still, but despairing of enjoyment.”—Mars, with a
voice of thunder, sang. “Yes, when one is in Tartarus, he must not hope
for other pleasures. War, which was our delight, is no more for us, but
a vain flourish: here one hears neither fife nor drum.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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