And he begg'd and pray'd the books to see,
Till the foolish woman gave him the key.

On the study table a book there lay,

Which Agrippa himself had been reading that day;
The letters were written with blood within,
And the leaves were made of dead men's skin.

And these horrible leaves of magic between
Were the ugliest pictures that ever were seen
The likeness of things so foul to behold,
That what they were is not fit to be told.

The young man, he began to read,
He knew not what, but he would proceed;
When there was heard a sound at the door,
Which, as he read on, grew more and more.

And more and more the knocking grew-
The young man knew not what to do;
But trembling in fear he sat within,
Till the door was broke, and the devil came in.

Two hideous horns on his head he had got,

Like iron heated nine times red hot;

The breath of his nostrils was brimstone blue,
And his tail like a fiery serpent grew.

"What wouldst thou with me?" the Wicked One cried, But not a word the young man replied:

Every hair on his head, was standing upright,
And his limbs like a palsy shook with affright.

"What wouldst thou with me?" cried the Author of ill,
But the wretched young man was silent still;
Not a word had his lips the power to say,
And his marrow seem'd to be melting away.

"What wouldst thou with me?" the third time he cries, And a flash of lightning came from his eyes, And he lifted his griffin claw in the air,

And the young man had not strength for a prayer.

His eyes red fire and fury dart,

As out he tore the young man's heart;
He grinn'd a horrible grin at his prey,
And in a clap of thunder vanish'd away.

THE MORAL.

Henceforth let all young men take heed
How in a conjuror's book they read.

KING CHARLEMAGNE.

Ir was strange that he loved her, for youth was gone by,

And the bloom of her beauty was fled;

'Twas the glance of the harlot that gleam'd in her eye,
And all but the Monarch could plainly descry
From whence came her white and her red.

Yet he thought with Agatha none might compare-
That kings might be proud of her chain;
The court was a desert if she were not there-
She only was lovely, she only was fair:

Such dotage possess'd Charlemagne.

The soldier, the statesman, the courtier, the maid,
Alike do their rival detest;

And the good old archbishop, who ceased to upbraid,
Shook his gray head in sorrow, and silently pray'd
To sing her the requiem of rest.

"Oh come where the feast and the dance and the song Invite thee to mirth and to love ;

Or, at this happy moment, away from the throng,
To the shade of yon wood let us hasten along-
The moon never pierces that grove."

Amazement and anger the prelate possest,
With terror his accents he heard ;

Then Charlemagne warmly and eagerly prest
The Archbishop's old wither'd hand to his breast,
And kiss'd his old gray grizzle beard.

"Let us well, then, these fortunate moments employ!"
Cried the Monarch, with passionate tone:
"Come away, then, dear charmer! my angel! my joy!
Nay, struggle not now-'tis in vain to be coy―
And remember that we are alone."

Blessed Mary protect me!" the Archbishop cried; "What madness is come to the King?"

In vain to escape from the Monarch he tried,
When luckily he on his finger espied
The glitter of Agatha's ring.

Overjoy'd, the old prelate remembered the spell,
And far in the lake flung the ring;

The waters closed round it, and, wond'rous to tell,
Releas'd from the cursed enchantment of hell,
His reason returned to the King.

But he built him a palace there close by the bay,
And there he did 'stablish his reign;

And the traveller who will, may behold at this day,
A monument still in the ruins of Aix

Of the spell that possess'd Charlemagne.

ST. ROMAULD.

The virtues of this Saint, as mentioned in the poem, may be found particularized in his life. The honour intended him by the Spaniards is mentioned by Andrews, "History of England," vol. i.

ONE day, it matters not to know
How many hundred years ago,

A Spaniard stopt at a posado door :

The landlord came to welcome him, and chat
Of this and that,

For he had seen the traveller there before.

"Does holy Romauld dwell

Still in his cell?

The traveller ask'd; "or is the old man dead?" "He has left his loving flock; and we

So good a Christian never more shall see;" The landlord answer'd, and he shook his head. "Ah, Sir! we knew his worth

If ever there did live a saint on earth!

Why, Sir, he always used to wear a shirt For thirty days, all seasons, day and night: Good man! he knew it was not right

For dust and ashes to fall out with dirt; And then he only hung it out in the rain, And put it on again.

"There used to be rare work

With him and the devil there in yonder cell; For satan used to maul him like a Turk.

There they would sometimes fight

All through a winter's night,

From sunset until morn

He with a cross, the devil with his horn:

F*

The devil spitting fire with might and main,
Enough to make St. Michael half afraid;
He splashing holy water, till he made
His red hide hiss again,

And the hot vapour fill'd the little cell.

This was so common, that his face became All black and yellow with the brimstone flame; And then he smelt-Oh Lord! how he did smell!

"Then, Sir, to see how he would mortify

The flesh! If any one had dainty fare,
Good man! he would come there,

And look at all the delicate things, and cry, 'O belly, belly!

You would be gormandizing now, I know—
But it shall not be so ;

Home to your bread and water! home, I tell ye!""

"But," quoth the traveller, "wherefore did he leave
A flock that knew his saintly worth so well?"
"Why," said the landlord, "Sir, it so befell,
He heard unluckily of our intent

To do him a great honour; and you know,
He was not covetous of fame below,

And so by stealth one night away he went."

"What might this honour be?" the traveller cried;

66

Why, Sir," the host replied,

;

"We thought perhaps that he might one day leave us; And then should strangers have

The good man's grave

A loss that like would naturally grieve us,
For he'll be made a saint of to be sure-
Therefore we thought it prudent to secure
His relics while we might;

And so we meant to strangle him one night."