He seldom pass'd by one of these without a genuflexion,
Beseeching that she'd condescend to grant him her protection;
Or if in too much haste to pray, he always bow'd politely
Before her shrine, as heretics to damsels fair and sprightly.
But such a holy, jolly man could scarce escape the eye
Of Satan, who, if all be true that legends testify,
Was then allow'd great liberty, and took, of course, much more,
Playing his pranks among all ranks, till he was "quite a bore."
Go where one might, some ugly sprite of his long-tail'd police
Was ever on the dodge to break, instead of keep, the peace;
And he himself at times appears to have appear'd where he,
By rules canonical forbid, no business had to be.
Much he alarm'd the laity, while reverend men of grace,
Like Father Joe, we're told, might snap their fingers in his face,
Or order him to take a dip all in the sea so red;
Wherefore, when holy men he saw, he turn'd about and fled.
Yet not the less watch'd he their steps, but set his imps to mark
The paths they trode, in hopes to catch them stumbling in the dark;
And one dark night—ah me! it is a grievous tale to tell—
In coming home past twelve o'clock, our jolly father fell.
He fell—and fell into a stream that ran both deep and strong;
No pain felt he, but seem'd to be as borne in sleep along;
His head contused, or else confused, allow'd him not to swim,
And Satan swore, with joyous roar, "At least, I'm sure of him!"
Crowding along the river's banks, his imps all eager ran,
Each striving to be first to catch the fallen holy man;
And when at length they fish'd him up, and laid him on the ground,
'Twas plain an inquest's verdict must have been brought in "found drown'd."
But twelve grave men were not there then, the case was graver far;
An evil set, as black as jet, all gabble, grin, and jar,
Claim'd Father Joe as lawful prize, and Satan said, "No doubt!
Angels and saints abandon him, or they'd have pulled him out:
"So bear him off!" But as he spake a sudden gleam of light
Broke forth, nor ceased, but still increased, till all around was bright;
And then appear'd what most he fear'd, in white and wing'd array,
A company of angels come to take from him his prey.
"We claim all holy men," said one who seem'd to be their chief;
"I don't dispute that," Satan cried; "but really, to be brief,
This friar or monk died reeling drunk, without or shrift or prayer;
So yours can't be, but comes to me. I only want what's fair."