Hell is empty. O that has come to pass
which the cut Alexandrian foresaw,
and Hell is empty.
Lightning fell silent where the Devil knelt
and over the whole grave space hath settled awe
in a full death of guilt.
The tinchel closes. Terror, & plunging, swipes.
I lay my ears back. I am about to die.
My cleft feet drum.
Fierce, the two-footers club. My green world pipes
a finish—for us all, my love, not some.
Crumpling, I—why,—

 Daniel Defoe, in his  Political History of the Devil ,  attributes  this assumed feature of the evil one to the separation of goats and the sheep parable in  Exodus 25 :31-46. (The sheep are the Christians, though they’ve of course got hooves, too). 
 Defoe doesn’t fail to point out that some artists likely treat the image “with more Solemnity than I believe the Devil himself does.”
Dream Song 56