AFFLICTED much was Matthew, now to lose The gold thus tendered, but he could not choose, For since Belphegor had obliged him thrice, He durst not hope the demon to entice; Poor man was he, a sinner, who, by chance, (He knew not how, it surely was romance,) Had some few devils, truly, driven out: Most worthy of contempt without a doubt. But all in vain:--the man they took by force; Proceed he must, or hanged he'd be of course. THE demon was before our farmer placed; The sight was by the prince in person graced; The wond'rous contest numbers ran to see, And all the world spectators fain would be. IF vanquished by the devil:--he must swing; If vanquisher:--'twould thousands to him bring: The gallows was, no doubt, a horrid view; Yet, at the purse, his glances often flew; The evil spirit laughed within his sleeve, To see the farmer tremble, fret, and grieve. He pleaded that the wight he'd thrice obeyed; The demon was by Matthew often prayed; But all in vain,--the more he terror showed, The more Belphegor ridicule bestowed. AT length the clown was driven to declare, The fiend he was unable to ensnare; Away they Matthew to the gallows led; But as he went, it entered in his head, And, in a sort of whisper he averred (As was in fact the case) a drum he heard. THE demon, with surprise, to Matthew cried; What noise is that? Honesta, he replied, Who you demands, and every where pursues, The spouse who treats her with such vile abuse. THESE words were thunder to Belphegor's ears, Who instantly took flight, so great his fears; To hell's abyss he fled without delay, To tell adventures through the realms of day. Sire, said the demon, it is clearly true, Damnation does the marriage knot pursue. Your highness often hither sees arrive, Not squads, but regiments, who, when alive, By Hymen were indissolubly tied:-- In person I the fact have fully tried. Th' institution, perhaps, most just could be: Past ages far more happiness might see; But ev'ry thing, with time, corruption shows; No jewel in your crown more lustre throws. BELPHEGOR'S tale by Satan was believed; Reward he got: the term, which-sorely grieved, Was now reduced; indeed, what had he done, That should prevent it?--If away he'd run, Who would not do the same who weds a shrew? Sure worse below the devil never knew! A brawling woman's tongue, what saint can bear? E'en Job, Honesta would have taught despair.