I called the devil and he came, His face with wonder I must scan; He is not ugly, he is not lame, He is a delightful, charming man. A man in the prime of life, in fact, Courteous, engaging and full of tact. A diplomat, too, of wide research Who cleverly talks about state and church. A little pale, but that is _en regle_, For now he is studying Sanscrit and Hegel. His favorite poet is still Fouque; With the brawls of the critics he meddles no more, For all such things he has given o'er, Unto his grandmother Hecate. He praised my forensic works that he saw, He had dabbled a little himself in law. He said he was proud my acquaintance to make, And should prize my friendship, and bowed as he spake. And asked if we had not met before At the house of the Spanish Ambassador? Then I noted his features line by line, And found him an old acquaintance of mine. XXXVIII. Mortal, sneer not at the devil; Life's a short and narrow way, And perdition everlasting Is no error of the day. Mortal, pay thy debts precisely, Life's a long and weary way; And to-morrow thou must borrow, As thou borrow'dst yesterday. XXXIX. Three holy kings from the land of the West Go asking whoso passes, "Where is the road to Bethlehem, Ye gentle lads and lasses?" But neither young nor old can tell. The kings fare patient onward, They follow a golden star o'erhead, That bright and kind shines downward. The star stands still o'er Joseph's house, Thither the pilgrims bringing; The oxen low, the Infant cries, The three wise kings are singing. XL. My child, we two were children, As lively as ever you saw, We crept into the hencoop, And we hid there beneath the straw. And there, like cocks, crowed loudly, While folk went passing by. "Kickery-koo!" they fancied, 'Twas really the cock's own cry. The chests that lay in the courtyard, With paper we overlaid. Therein we lived together; An excellent house we made. The old cat of our neighbor Would visit us at whiles; We gave her bows and curtsies, And compliments and smiles. After her health we inquired Gravely whenever she came. To many an ancient Tabby Since then we have done the same. We talked like grown folks sagely, And sat there oft and long, Complaining how all had altered, Since the days when we were young. How love and faith and friendship Had vanished, the world was bare; How dear were tea and coffee, And money had grown so rare! Those childish games are over, All things roll on with youth,-- Money, the world, and the seasons, And faith and love and truth. XLI. My heart is heavy; from the present It yearns towards those old days again, When still the world seemed fair and pleasant, And men lived happy, free from pain.