She laughed the while, with an arch smile, ""Tis you are cold-for I, not coy, Yield love for love, frank, warm and true; His errors prove it-knew my joy "Bocca basciata non perde ventura ; Anzi rinnuova come fa la luna :— [cure a So thought Boccaccio, whose sweet words might Male prude, like you, from what you now endure, a Low-tide in soul, like a stagnant laguna.” Then Peter rubbed his eyes severe, And smoothed his spacious forehead down, The Devil was no uncommon creature ; He was that heavy, dull, cold thing, Now he was quite the kind of wight Round whom collect, at a fixed æra, Venison, turtle, hock, and claret,— Good cheer-and those who come to share it-And best East-Indian madeira! It was his fancy to invite Men of science, wit, and learning, And men of learning, science, wit, Think of some rotten tree, and sit And all the while, with loose fat smile, Though to be sure this place was Hell; He was the Devil-and all theyWhat though the claret circled well, And wit, like ocean, rose and fell ?Were damned eternally. PART THE FIFTH. GRACE. AMONG the guests who often staid He was a mighty poet-and But his own mind-which was a mist. This was a man who might have turned Trusted,―and damned himself to madness. He spoke of poetry, and how "Divine it was—a light—a love— A spirit which like wind doth blow As it listeth, to and fro; A dew rained down from God above; "A power which comes and goes like dream, And which none can ever trace Heaven's light on earth-Truth's brightest beam." And when he ceased there lay the gleam Of those words upon his face. Now Peter, when he heard such talk, At night he oft would start and wake In a wild measure songs to make And on the universal sky And the wide earth's bosom green,― And the sweet, strange mystery And yet remain unseen. For in his thought he visited The spots in which, ere dead and damned, He his wayward life had led; Yet knew not whence the thoughts were fed, Which thus his fancy crammed. And these obscure remembrances For though it was without a sense He knew something of heath, and fell. He had also dim recollections Of pedlers tramping on their rounds; Milk-pans and pails; and odd collections Of saws, and proverbs; and reflections Old parsons make in burying-grounds. But Peter's verse was clear, and came It augured to the Earth; |