O Painter, avoid her! O Painter, take care!

For Satan is watchful for you!

Take heed lest you fall in the Wicked One's snare, The net is made ready, O Painter, beware

Of Satan and Marguerite too.

She seats herself now, now she lifts up her head,
On the artist she fixes her eyes;

The colours are ready, the canvas is spread,
He lays on the white, and he lays on the red,
And the features of beauty arise.

He is come to her eyes, eyes so bright and so blue!
There's a look which he cannot express; .

His colours are dull to their quick-sparkling hue;
More and more on the lady he fixes his view,
On the canvas he looks less and less.

In vain he retouches, her eyes sparkle more,

And that look which fair Marguerite gave! Many Devils the Artist had painted of yore, But he never had tried a live Angel before,.. St. Anthony, help him and save!

He yielded, alas! for the truth must be told,
To the Woman, the Tempter, and Fate.
It was settled the Lady so fair to behold,
Should elope from her husband so ugly and old,
With the Painter so pious of late!

Now Satan exults in his vengeance complete,
To the Husband he makes the scheme known;
Night comes and the lovers impatiently meet,
Together they fly, they are seized in the street,

And in prison the Painter is thrown.

With Repentance, his only companion, he lies,
And a dismal companion is she!

On a sudden he saw the Old Serpent arise,

"Now, you villanous dauber!" Sir Beelzebub cries, "You are paid for your insults to me!

"But my

tender heart

you may easily move

If to what I propose you agree;

That picture,..be just! the resemblance improve, Make a handsomer portrait, your chains I'll remove, And you shall this instant be free."

Overjoy'd, the conditions so easy he hears, "I'll make you quite handsome!" he said.

He said, and his chain on the Devil appears; Released from his prison, released from his fears,

The Painter is snug in his bed.

At morn he arises, composes his look,

And proceeds to his work as before;

The people beheld him, the culprit they took; They thought that the Painter his prison had broke, And to prison they led him once more.

They open the dungeon;.. behold in his place
In the corner old Beelzebub lay.

He smirks and he smiles and he leers with a grace,

That the Painter might catch all the charms of his face,

Then vanish'd in lightning away.

Quoth the Painter, "I trust you'll suspect me no

more,

Since you find my assertions were true.

But I'll alter the picture above the Church-door, For I never saw Satan so closely before,

And I must give the Devil his due."

ST. MICHAEL'S CHAIR.

MERRILY, merrily rung the bells,

The bells of St. Michael's tower,

When Richard Penlake and Rebecca his wife Arrived at St. Michael's door.

Richard Penlake was a cheerful man,

Cheerful and frank and free,

But he led a sad life with Rebecca his wife,
For a terrible shrew was she.

Richard Penlake a scolding would take,

Till patience avail'd no longer,

Then Richard Penlake his crab-stick would take, And shew her that he was the stronger.