And he begg'd and pray'd the books to see, On the study table a book there lay, Which Agrippa himself had been reading that day; And these horrible leaves of magic between The young man, he began to read, And more and more the knocking grew- Two hideous horns on his head he had got, Like iron heated nine times red hot; The breath of his nostrils was brimstone blue, "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, "What wouldst thou with me?" cried the Author of ill, "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; THE MORAL. Henceforth let all young men take heed 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, Yet he thought with Agatha none might compare- Such dotage possess'd Charlemagne. The soldier, the statesman, the courtier, the maid, And the good old archbishop, who ceased to upbraid, "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, Amazement and anger the prelate possest, Then Charlemagne warmly and eagerly prest "Let us well, then, these fortunate moments employ!" Blessed Mary protect me!" the Archbishop cried; "What madness is come to the King?" In vain to escape from the Monarch he tried, Overjoy'd, the old prelate remembered the spell, The waters closed round it, and, wond'rous to tell, But he built him a palace there close by the bay, And the traveller who will, may behold at this day, 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 A Spaniard stopt at a posado door : The landlord came to welcome him, and chat 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, 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, And look at all the delicate things, and cry, 'O belly, belly! You would be gormandizing now, I know— Home to your bread and water! home, I tell ye!"" "But," quoth the traveller, "wherefore did he leave To do him a great honour; and you know, 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, And so we meant to strangle him one night." |