Yamen beheld, and wither’d at the sight; Long had he aim’d the sunbeam to control, For light was hateful to his soul: “Go on!” cried the hellish one, yellow with spite, “Go on!” cried the hellish one, yellow with spleen, “Thy toils of the morning, like Ithaca’s queen, I’ll toil to undo every night.” Ye sons of song, rejoice! Veeshnoo has still’d the jarring elements, The spheres hymn music; Again the god of day Peeps forth with trembling ray, Wakes, from their humid caves, the sleeping Nine, And pours at intervals a strain divine. “I have an iron yet in the fire,” cried Yamen; “The vollied flame rides in my breath, My blast is elemental death; This hand shall tear your paper bonds to pieces; Ingross your deeds, assignments, leases, My breath shall every line erase Soon as I blow the blaze.” The lawyers are met at the Crown and Anchor, And Yamen’s visage grows blanker and blanker; The lawyers are met at the Anchor and Crown, And Yamen’s cheek is a russety brown: Veeshnoo, now thy work proceeds; The solicitor reads, And, merit of merit! Red wax and green ferret Are fixed at the foot of the deeds! Yamen beheld and shiver’d; His finger and thumb were cramp’d; His ear by the flea in ’t was bitten, When he saw by the lawyer’s clerk written, Sealed and delivered, Being first duly stamped. “Now for my turn!” the demon cries, and blows A blast of sulphur from his mouth and nose. Ah! bootless aim! the critic fiend, Sagacious Yamen, judge of hell, Is judged in his turn; Parchment won’t burn! His schemes of vengeance are dissolved in air, Parchment won’t tear!! Is it not written in the Himakoot book (That mighty Baly from Kehama took), “Who blows on pounce Must the Swerga renounce?” It is! it is! Yamen, thine hour is nigh: Like as an eagle claws an asp, Veeshnoo has caught him in his mighty grasp, And hurl’d him, in spite of his shrieks and his squalls, Whizzing aloft, like the Temple fountain, Three times as high as Meru mountain, Which is Ninety-nine times as high as St. Paul’s. Descending, he twisted like Levy the Jew, {36} Who a durable grave meant To dig in the pavement Of Monument-yard: To earth by the laws of attraction he flew, And he fell, and he fell To the regions of hell; Nine centuries bounced he from cavern to rock, And his head, as he tumbled, went nickety-nock, Like a pebble in Carisbrook well.