And said "My best Diogenes, XIII "Tis you are cold-for I, not coy, Yield love for love, frank, warm, and true; And Burns, a Scottish peasant boy- XIV "Bocca bacciata non perde ventura Anzi rinnuova come fa la luna :— So thought Boccaccio, whose sweet words might cure a And men of learning, science, wit, Considered him as you and I Think of some rotten tree, and sit Male prude, like you, from what you Lounging and dining under it, now endure, a Low-tide in soul, like a stagnant laguna." XV Then Peter rubbed his eyes severe, And smoothed his spacious forehead down, With his broad palm ;-'twixt love and fear, He looked, as he no doubt felt, queer, And in his dream sate down. XVI The Devil was no uncommon creature; A leaden-witted thief-just huddled Out of the dross and scum of nature; A toad-like lump of limb and feature, With mind, and heart, and fancy muddled. XVII He was that heavy, dull, cold thing, XVIII Now he was quite the kind of wight Round whom collect, at a fixed æra, Exposed to the wide sky. XXI And all the while, with loose fat smile, The willing wretch sat winking there, Believing 'twas his power that made That jovial scene-and that all paid Homage to his unnoticed chair. XXII Though to be sure this place was Hell; He was the Devil-and all they— What though the claret circled well, And wit, like ocean, rose and fell ?--Were damned eternally. PART THE FIFTH GRACE I AMONG the guests who often staid II He was a mighty poet-and All things he seemed to understand, III This was a man who might have turned Trusted, and damned himself to IV He spoke of poetry, and how "Divine it was-a light-a loveA spirit which like wind doth blow As it listeth, to and fro; IX For in his thought he visited The spots in which, ere dead and He his wayward life had led; Which thus his fancy crammed. X And these obscure remembrances XI A dew rained down from God above. For though it was without a sense V Of memory, yet he remembered well Many a ditch and quick-set fence; "A power which comes and goes like Of lakes he had intelligence, dream, And which none can ever traceHeaven's light on earth-Truth's brightest beam." And when he ceased there lay the gleam VI Now Peter, when he heard such talk, Or drop and break his master's plate. VII At night he oft would start and wake In a wild measure songs to make VIII And on the universal sky And the wide earth's bosom green,- He knew something of heath, and fell. XII He had also dim recollections Of pedlars tramping on their rounds; Milk-pans and pails; and odd collections Of saws, and proverbs; and reflections Old parsons make in burying-grounds. XIII But Peter's verse was clear, and came XIV Like gentle rains, on the dry plains, Or like the sudden moon, that stains XV For language was in Peter's hand, Like clay, while he was yet a potter; |
