A tribute to a comedy

The dinners or Royal Calls,- just you rest     

On that peak for a sole ship to see, red         

Spot on the far green top, the white sails form    

Heaven... and hell,- two lakes of boiling blood   

There, a hilltop in Italy, you've just     

Written a book knowing full well, in verse, 

When words sell to beggars and clergy both  

''The super essential light'',- to your knees!             

Bonfires in such awe of one Greek's loot      

To purge smoke from wood (and one soul from bone)  

And nervous midwives light three candlewicks 

And by Virgil's steady tracks,- a point, moot

Enlightens us to your farcical tone