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Then there came down from Langdale Pike A cloud, with lightning, wind, and hail; It swept over the mountains like

An ocean, and I heard it strike

The woods and crags of Grasmere vale.

And I saw the black storm come

Nearer, minute after minute;
Its thunder made the cataracts dumb;
With hiss, and clash, and hollow hum,
It neared as if the Devil was in it.

The Devil was in it; he had bought
Peter for half-a-crown; and when
The storm which bore him vanished, nought
That in the house that storm had caught
Was ever seen again.

The gaping neighbours came next day-
They found all vanished from the shore:
The Bible, whence he used to pray,
Half scorched under a hen-coop lay;
Smashed glass-and nothing more.

PART THE SECOND.

THE DEVIL.

THE DEVIL, I safely can aver,

Has neither hoof, nor tail, nor sting;
Nor is he, as some sages swear,
A spirit, neither here nor there,
In nothing-yet in everything.

He is what we are; for sometimes
The Devil is a gentleman;
At others a bard bartering rhymes
For sack; a statesman spinning crimes;
A swindler, living as he can;

A thief, who cometh in the night,

With whole boots and net pantaloons, Like some one whom it were not right To mention ;-or the luckless wight, From whom he steals nine silver spoons.

But in this case he did

appear
Like a slop-merchant from Wapping,
And with smug face, and eye severe,
On every side did perk and peer
Till he saw Peter dead or napping.

He had on an upper Benjamin
(For he was of the driving schism)
In the which he wrapt his skin
From the storm he travelled in,
For fear of rheumatism.

He called the ghost out of the corse;―
It was exceedingly like Peter,-
Only its voice was hollow and hoarse-
It had a queerish look of course—
Its dress too was a little neater.

The Devil knew not his name and lot,
Peter knew not that he was Bell:
Each had an upper stream of thought,
Which made all seem as it was not;
Fitting itself to all things well.

Peter thought he had parents dear,
Brothers, sisters, cousins, cronies,
In the fens of Lincolnshire;
He perhaps had found them there
Had he gone and boldly shown his

Solemn phiz in his own village;
Where he thought oft when a boy
He'd clomb the orchard walls to pillage

The produce of his neighbour's tillage,
With marvellous pride and joy.

And the Devil thought he had,
'Mid the misery and confusion
Of an unjust war, just made
A fortune by the gainful trade
Of giving soldiers rations bad-

The world is full of strange delusion.

That he had a mansion planned

In a square like Grosvenor-square,
That he was aping fashion, and
That he now came to Westmoreland
To see what was romantic there.

And all this, though quite ideal,-
Ready at a breath to vanish,-
Was a state not more unreal
Than the peace he could not feel,
Or the care he could not banish.

After a little conversation,

The Devil told Peter, if he chose, He'd bring him to the world of fashion By giving him a situation

In his own service-and new clothes.

And Peter bowed, quite pleased and proud, And after waiting some few days

For a new livery-dirty yellow

Turned up with black-the wretched fellow Was bowled to Hell in the Devil's chaise.

PART THE THIRD.

HELL.

HELL is a city much like London—

A populous and a smoky city ;

There are all sorts of people undone,
And there is little or no fun done;

Small justice shown, and still less pity.

There is a Castles, and a Canning,
A Cobbett, and a Castlereagh;
All sorts of caitiff corpses planning,
All sorts of cozening for trepanning
Corpses less corrupt than they.

There is a * * *, who has lost

His wits, or sold them, none knows which: He walks about a double ghost,

And though as thin as Fraud almost

Ever grows more grim and rich.

There is a Chancery Court; a King;
A manufacturing mob; a set
Of thieves who by themselves are sent
Similar thieves to represent;

An army; and a public debt.

Which last is a scheme of paper money,
And means-being interpreted—
Bees, "keep your wax-give us the honey,
And we will plant, while skies are sunny,
Flowers, which in winter serve instead."

There is great talk of revolution

And a great chance of despotism— German soldiers-camps-confusion— Tumults-lotteries-rage-delusion—

Gin-suicide-and methodism.

Taxes too, on wine and bread,

And meat, and beer, and tea, and cheese, From which those patriots pure are fed,

Who gorge before they reel to bed

The tenfold essence of all these.

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There are mincing women, mewing,
(Like cats, who amant miserè,*)`
Of their own virtue, and pursuing
Their gentler sisters to that ruin,
Without which-what were chastity.†

Lawyers—judges—old hobnobbers

Are there-bailiffs-chancellors-
Bishops-great and little robbers—
Rhymesters-pamphleteers-stock-jobbers—
Men of glory in the wars,—

Things whose trade is, over ladies

To lean, and flirt, and stare, and simper,
Till all that is divine in woman

Grows cruel, courteous, smooth, inhuman,
Crucified 'twixt a smile and whimper.

Thrusting, toiling, wailing, moiling,
Frowning, preaching—such a riot!
Each with never-ceasing labour,
Whilst he thinks he cheats his neighbour,
Cheating his own heart of quiet.

And all these meet at levees;-
Dinners convivial and political ;—
Suppers of epic poets;-teas,
Where small talk dies in agonies;-
Breakfasts professional and critical;

One of the attributes in Linnæus's description of the Cat. To a similar cause the caterwauling of more than one species of this genus is to be referred;-except, indeed, that the poor quadruped is compelled to quarrel with its own pleasures, whilst the biped is supposed only to quarrel with those of

others.

† What would this husk and excuse for a virtue be without its kernal prostitution, or the kernal prostitution without this husk of a virtue? I wonder the women of the town do not form an association, like the Society for the Suppression of Vice, for the support of what may be cal ed the "King, Church, and Constitution" of their order. But this subject is almost too horri ble for a joke.

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