And whenever he feasted the rich and gay, The Devil still had his joke; For however rare The sumptuous fare, When the sparkling glass Was seen to pass,— He was fearful the draught would choke! And whenever, in fine and costly geer, The Squire went forth to ride: The owl would cry, And the raven fly Across his road, While the sluggish toad Would crawl by his Palfry’s side. And he could not command the Sunny day, For the rain would wet him through; And the wind would blow Where his nag did go, And the thunder roar, And the torrents pour, And he felt the chill Evening dew. And the cramp would wring his youthful bones, And would make him groan aloud; And the doctor’s art Could not cure the heart, While the conscience still Was o’ercharg’d with ill; And he dream’d of the pick-axe and shroud. And why could Old BARNARD sweetly sleep, Since so poor, and so old was he? Because he could say At the close of day, “I have done no wrong “To the weak or strong, “And so, Heaven look kind on me!” One night, the GRANDSON hied him forth, To a MONK, that liv’d hard by; “O! Father!” said he, “I am come to thee, “For I’m sick of sin, “And would fain begin “To repent me, before I die!” “I must pray for your Soul; the MONK replied, “But will see you to-morrow, ere noon: Then the MONK flew straight To Old BARNARD’s gate, And he bade him haste O’er the dewy waste, By the light of the waning Moon. In the Monkish cell did old BARNARD wait, And his GRANDSON went thither soon; In a habit of grey Ere the dawn of day, With a cowl and cross, On the sill of moss, He knelt by the light of the Moon. “O! shrive me, Father!” the GRANDSON cried, “For the Devil is waiting for me! “I have robb’d the poor, “I have shut my door, “And kept out the good “When they wanted food,— “And I come for my pardon, to Thee.”