The saint no pity had on Nick, But drove long nails right through the quick; Louder shrieked he, and faster. Dunstan cared not; his bitter grin, Without mistake, showed Father Sin He had found a ruthless master. And having driven, clenched, and filed, The saint reviewed his work, and smiled With cruel satisfaction; And jeering said, "Pray, ere you go, Dance me the _pas seul_ named 'Jim Crow,' With your most graceful action." To tell how Horny yelled and cried, And all the artful tricks he tried, To ease his tribulations, Would more than fill a bigger book Than ever author undertook, Since the Book of Lamentations. His tail's short, quick, convulsive coils Told of more pain than all Job's boils, When Satan brought, with subtle toils, Job's patience to the scratch. For sympathetic tortures spread From hoof to tail, from tail to head: All did the anguish catch. [Illustration] And yet, though seemed this sharp correction Stereotyped in Satan's recollection, As in his smarting hocks; Not until he the following deed Had signed and sealed, St. Dunstan freed The vagabond from stocks. TO ALL good folk in Christendom to whom this instrument shall come the Devil sendeth greeting: KNOW YE that for himself and heirs said Devil covenants and declares, that never at morn or evening prayers at chapel church or meeting, never where concords of sweet sound sacred or social flow around or harmony is woo'd, nor where the Horse-Shoe meets his sight on land or sea by day or night on lowly sill or lofty pinnacle on bowsprit helm mast boom or binnacle, said Devil will intrude. The horse-shoe now saves keel, and roof, From visits of this rover's hoof, The emblem seen preventing. He recks the bond, but more the pain, The nails went so against the grain, The rasp was so tormenting. He will not through Gran[=a]da march, For there he knows the horse-shoe arch At every gate attends him. Nor partridges can he digest, Since the dire horse-shoe on the breast Most grievously offends him. The name of Smith he cannot bear; Smith Payne he'll curse, and foully swear At Smith of Pennsylvania, With looks so wild about the face; Monro called in, pronounced the case Clear antismithymania; And duly certified that Nick Should be confined as lunatic, Fit subject for commission. But who the deuce would like to be The devil's person's committee? So kindred won't petition. Now, since the wicked fiend's at large, Skippers, and housekeepers, I charge You all to heed my warning. Over your threshold, on your mast, Be sure the horse-shoe's well nailed fast, Protecting and adorning. [Illustration: "O, et praesidium, et dulce decus."--HOR Lib. i. Ode i.]