II. He drew on a boot to hide his hoof, III. He sate him down, in London town, With a favourite imp he began to chat, IV. And then to St. James's court he went, He was mighty thick with every Saint, V. The Devil was an agriculturist, And as bad weeds quickly grow, In looking over his farm, I wist He wouldn't find cause for woe. ridge's production, read apart from Southey's, is no doubt better than Shelley's; but I think Shelley's compares creditably with the completed joint original. There are certainly some good points in his Devil's Walk; and it may safely receive this extremely qualified meed of praise, that it is the best now extant piece of poetry produced by the future author of Prometheus Unbound prior to the printing of Queen Mab (1813). Probably The Devil's Walk was written only a short time before Daniel Hill was commissioned to distribute it, in August, 1812; if so, Shelley had now already begun the writing of Queen Mab. There is likewise a poem of Byron's, The Devil's Drive. modelled upon the same popular production of Southey and Coleridge this cannot have been composed earlier than the close of 1813, and is consequently later than Shelley's." I may remark that the cognomen of the Devil, in the second line of the ballad as printed by Shelley, is Beelzebub, not Beelzebuth as in The Fortnightly Review. 1 There is no stop here in the original. VI. He peeped in each hole, to each chamber stole, Grinning applause, he just showed them his claws, VII. Satan poked his red nose into crannies so small, VIII. A Priest, at whose elbow the Devil1 during prayer, Sate familiarly, side by side, Declared, that if the tempter were there, His presence he would not abide. Ah! Ah! thought Old Nick, that's a very stale trick, For without the Devil, O! favourite of evil, In your carriage you would not ride. IX. Satan next saw a brainless King, Whose house was as hot as his own, Many imps in attendance were there on the wing, They flapped the pennon and twisted the sting, Close by the very Throne. X. Ah, ha! thought Satan, the pasture is good, 1 Mr. Rossetti substitutes he for the Devil. They dine on news of human blood, They sup on the groans of the dying and dead, And supperless never will go to bed; Which will make them fat as their brothers. XI. Fat as the fiends that feed on blood, Fresh and warm from the fields of Spain, When the shoots of earth are nipped in the bud, Its glory the meed of the slain. XII. Fat as the death-birds on Erin's shore, 2 That glutted themselves in her dearest gore, And flitted round Castlereagh, When they snatched the Patriot's heart, that his grasp Had torn from its widow's maniac clasp,3 And fled at the dawn of day. XIII. Fat-as the reptiles of the tomb, XIV. Fat as that Prince's maudlin brain, 1 Mr. Rossetti prints Where instead of When. 2 In the Fortnightly Review version this line reads as follows: Fat as death-birds on Erin's shore, but in the original it is as I have given it. 3 Misprinted claps in the original. XV. For he is fat, his waistcoat gay, When strained upon a levee day, Scarce meets across his princely paunch, XVI. How vast his stock of calf! when plenty Could make his pantaloon seams1 start. XVII. The Devil, (who sometimes is called nature,) XVIII. Satan saw a lawyer, a viper slay, That crawled up the leg of his table, It reminded him most marvellously, XIX. The wealthy yeoman, as he wanders, And on his thriving cattle ponders, Counts his sure gains, and hums a song; Thus did the Devil, thro' earth walking, Hum low a hellish song. 1 So in the original; but pantaloonseam in The Fortnightly Review. 2 Coleridge's corresponding stanza, referred to by Mr. Rossetti in the passage quoted in note 1, p. 371, is as follows: He saw a lawyer killing a viper On a dunghill hard by his own stable; And the Devil smiled, for it put him in mind Of Cain and his brother Abel. XX. For they thrive well, whose garb of gore, And they thrive well, who from the poor, XXI. The Bishops thrive, tho' they are big, For every gown, and every wig, Hides the safe thrift of Hell within. XXII. Thus pigs were never counted clean, Altho' they eat from night to morn. XXIII. Oh! why is the Father of Hell in such glee, Why does he doff his clothes joyfully, As he skips, and prances, and flaps his wing, XXIV. A statesman pass'd-alone to him, The Devil dare his whole shape uncover, To show each feature, every limb, Secure of an unchanging lover. 1 There is a comma after are in the original, a printer's error, probably. - 2 So in the original; not slides as in The Fortnightly Review. |