Peter Bell the Third

PART 2. THE DEVIL.

 1.
 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.                                  80

 2.
 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;                                   85

 3.
 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.                         90

 4.
 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.                              95

 5.
 He had on an upper Benjamin
 (For he was of the driving schism)
 In the which he wrapped his skin
 From the storm he travelled in,
 For fear of rheumatism.                                         100

 6.
 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.                              105

 7.
 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.                              110

 8.
 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                                115

 9.
 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.                                  120

 10.
 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—                                125
 The world is full of strange delusion—

 11.
 That he had a mansion planned
 In a square like Grosvenor Square,
 That he was aping fashion, and
 That he now came to Westmoreland                                130
 To see what was romantic there.

 12.
 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,                               135
 Or the care he could not banish.

 13.
 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                                       140
 In his own service—and new clothes.

 14.
 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                       145
 Was bowled to Hell in the Devil's chaise.