The day of wrath, that dreadful day, When heaven and earth shall pass away, What power shall be the sinner's stay? How shall he meet that dreadful day? When, shrivelling like a parched scroll, The flaming heavens together roll; While louder yet, and yet more dread, Swells the high trump that wakes the dead; O! on that day, that wrathful day, When man to judgment wakes from clay, Be Thou the trembling sinner's stay, Though heaven and earth shall pass away. THE PENANCE OF ROBERT THE DEVIL. COLLIN DE PLANCY. In Normandy, the most sinister associations still remain connected with the name of Robert the Devil. By the people, who change historical details, but yet preserve the moral thereof, it is believed that Robert is undergoing his penance here below, on the theatre of his crimes, and that, after a thousand years, it is not yet ended. Messrs. Taylor and Charles Nodier have mentioned this tradition in their "Voyage Pittoresque de l'Ancienne France" ("Picturesque Journey through Old France"). "On the left shore of the Seine," say they, "not far from Moulineaux, are seen the colossal ruins, which are said to be the remains of the castle, or fortress, of Robert the Devil. Vague recollections, a ballad, some shepherd's tales--these are all the chronicles of those imposing ruins. Nevertheless, the fame of Robert the Devil's doings still survives in the country which he inhabited. His very name still excites that sentiment of fear which ordinarily results only from recent impressions. "In the vicinity of the castle of Robert the Devil every one knows his misdeeds, his violent conquests, and the rigor of his penance. The cries of his victims still reecho through the vaults, and come to terrify himself in his nocturnal wanderings, for Robert is condemned to visit the ruins and the dungeons of his castle. "Sometimes, if the old traditions of the country are to be believed, Robert has been seen, still clad in the loose tunic of a hermit, as on the day of his burial, wandering in the neighborhood of his castle, and visiting, barefoot and bareheaded, the little corner of the plain where the cemetery must have been. Sometimes, a shepherd straying through the adjoining copse in search of his flock, scattered by an evening storm, has been frightened by the fearful aspect of the phantom, seen by the glare of the lightning, flitting about amongst the graves. He has heard him, in the pauses of the tempest, imploring the pity of their mute inhabitants; and on the morrow he shunned the place in horror, because the earth, freshly turned up, had opened on every side to terrify the murderer." But there is another tradition which we cannot omit.