At last the thunder ceased and all was still, Deep silence reigned o'er dale and hill; Then forth a lurid radiance glowed, Fan-like from earth to heaven it flowed, Deep ruby red, the hue of blood, And in the midst an awful presence stood-- Majestic, pale, towering in aspect grand, Hell's chieftain, prince of the rebel band, Who fell defying Heaven's command. O'er lofty brow tossed his dishevelled hair, A front deep lined with thought and care, And eyes with shaggy eyebrows pent, Which fierceness to their glances lent; Those eyes which blazed with hate and sadness, Strangers alike to hope, to love, and gladness. With lips of scorn, whence insults leap, And lies and calumnies and curses deep; Scoffings, revilings, blasphemies malign Against Omnipotence and laws divine! With awe and terror struck, I trembling gazed, Spell-bound, bewildered, and amazed To think that I should hap to contemplate The lineaments of H--l's great potentate! With shuddering dread, I feared his eagle eye Should wretch like me by cruel chance espy. Alas, my fate! The hated glance it fell, Nought could escape the blighting eye of H--l; Staggering, I fell like riven oak Struck to the earth by lightning stroke! Jockie, my lad, I swooned away; Of sense bereft, how long, I cannot say. Hard by where old Daa drives his trade O' ginger-beer and leemonade. I felt the cool, soft morning air To fan my cheek and raise my hair; Conscious at last, I raised my eyes, Conceive my horror and surprise, To see friend Clootie stand before me, Leering and grinning, bending o'er me! My heart was well-nigh like to burst With fear and hatred and disgust. I cried, beseeched him to forgive me, And begged him on my knees to leave me. He laughed, and told me hold my jargon, To stir my stumps, make good my bargain. 'The match you know,' he said, 'ain't ended, And luck may turn, and mine be mended, The remaining holes may fall to me, Then Skipper dear, where will you be? I've not had one, and eight you've taken, You need one more to save your bacon-- _One little hole, to save your soul!_ I stand to lose name, fame, and purse, Not that I care a tinker's curse; But you, should fortune now forsake you, Your freedom gone, my slave I make you. Play up, and man-like save your skin, Strike for your name and native green.' [Illustration] I heard, and as I gazed upon him, Transformed he seemed, some change come o'er him; He caught my eye, divined my thought, And gave the explanation sought.-- 'To honour you I've changed my suit, My taste and style none can dispute; I now assume my sporting dress, The garb I wear when I mean business; I've donned my tail, and doffed my boots, You see me in my native cloots.' Man's fond, familiar, friendly devil Aye gracious, debonair and civil; Smiling he stood, his arms akimbo, The Deil himself, the Prince o' Limbo.