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Or rather, perhaps, be it said, to correct them, There being plenty about for those who collect them. He is lean of body, and lank of limb;

The man must walk fast who would overtake him.
His eyes are not yet much the worse for the wear,
And Time has not thinn'd nor straighten'd his hair,
Notwithstanding that now he is more than halfway
On the road from Grizzle to Gray.

He hath a long nose with a bending ridge;
It might be worthy of notice on Strasburg bridge.
He sings like a lark when at morn he arises,
And when evening comes he nightingalizes,

Warbling house-notes wild from throat and gizzard,

His voice is as good as when he was young,
Which reach from A to G, and from G to Izzard.

And he has teeth enough left to keep-in his tongue.
A man he is by nature merry,

Somewhat Tom-foolish, and comical, very;
Upon easy terms, thank Heaven, with himself,
Who has gone through the world, not mindful of pelf,

Along bypaths and in pleasant ways,
Caring as little for censure as praise;
Having some friends whom he loves dearly,

And no lack of foes, whom he laughs at sincerely;
And never for great, nor for little things,
Has he fretted his guts to fiddle-strings.
He might have made them by such folly
Most musical, most melancholy.

Sic cecinit Robertus, anno ætatis suæ 55.

THE DEVIL'S WALK.

ADVERTISEMENT.

AFTER the Devil's Thoughts had been published by Mr. Coleridge in the collection of his Poetical Works, and the statement with which he accompanied it, it might have been supposed that the joint authorship of that Siamese production had been sufficiently authenticated, and that no supposititious claim to it would again be advanced. The following extract, however, appeared in the John Bull of Feb. 14. 1830:

"In the Morning Post of Tuesday, we find the following letter:

To the Editor of the Morning Post. "SIR,-Permit me to correct a statement which appeared in a recent number of the John Bull, wherein it is made to appear that Dr. Southey is the author of the Poem entitled The Devil's Walk.

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"We are quite sure that Mr. Porson, the writer of the above letter, is convinced of the truth of the statement it contains; but although The Devil s Walk is perhaps not a work of which either Mr. Southey or Mr. Porson need be very proud, we feel it due to ourselves to re-state the fact of its being from the pen of Mr. Southey. If we are wrong, Mr. Porson may apply to Mr. Southey; for although Mr. Porson's eminent uncle is dead, the Poet Laureate is alive and merry.

"The Lines-Poem they can scarcely be called ·

were written by Mr. Southey, one morning before breakfast, the idea having struck him while he was shaving; they were subsequently shown to Mr. Coleridge, who, we believe, pointed some of the stanzas, and perhaps added one or two.

"We beg to assure Mr. R. C. Porson that we recur to this matter out of no disrespect either to the memory of his uncle, which is not likely to be affected one way or another, by the circumstance; or to his own veracity, being, as we said, quite assured that he believes the statement he makes: our only object is to set ourselves right."

"Our readers, perhaps, may smile at the following, which appears in yesterday's Court Journal: — "We have received a letter, signed "W. Marshall," and dated " York;" claiming for its writer the long-contested authorship of those celebrated verses, which are known by the title of The Devil's Walk on Earth, and to which attention has lately been directed anew, by Lord Byron's imitation of them. There have been so many mystifications connected with the authorship of these clever verses, that, for any thing we know to the contrary, this letter may be only one more.'

A week afterwards there was the following notice: -"We cannot waste any more time about The Devil's Walk. We happen to know that it is Mr. Southey's; but, as he is alive, we refer any body, who is not yet satisfied, to the eminent person himself we do not mean the Devil but the Doctor."

The same newspaper contained the ensuing advertisement: -"On Tuesday next, uniform with Robert Cruikshank's Monsieur Tonson, price one shilling The Devil's Walk, a Poem, by Professor Porson. With additions and variations by Southey and Coleridge; illustrated by seven engravings from R. Cruikshank. London, Marsh and Miller, 137. Oxford Street; and Constable and Co., Edinburgh."

Professor Porson never had any part in these verses as a writer, and it is for the first time that he now appears in them as the subject of two or three stanzas written some few years ago, when the fabricated story of his having composed them during an evening party at Dr. Vincent's (for that was the original habitat of this falsehood) was revived. A friend of one of the authors, more jealous for him than he has ever been for himself, urged him then to put the matter out of doubt (for it was before Mr. Coleridge had done so); and as much to please that friend, as to amuse himself and his domestic circle, in a sportive mood, the part which relates the rise and progress of the Poem was thrown off, and that also touching the aforesaid Professor. The old vein having thus been opened, some other passages were added; and so it grew to its present length.

THE DEVIL'S WALK.

1.

FROM his brimstone bed at break of day
A walking the Devil is gone,
To look at his little snug farm of the World,
And see how his stock went on.

2.

Over the hill and over the dale,
And he went over the plain;
And backward and forward he swish'd his tail,
As a gentleman swishes a cane.

3.

How then was the Devil drest?
Oh, he was in his Sunday's best,

His coat was red and his breeches were blue,
And there was a hole where his tail came through.

4.

A lady drove by in her pride,
In whose face an expression he spied

Such a flourishing, fine, clever creature was she,
With an eye as wicked as wicked can be,
I should take her for my Aunt, thought he,
If my dam had had a sister.

For which he could have kiss'd her;

5.

He met a lord of high degree,

No matter what was his name;

Whose face with his own when he came to compare
The expression, the look, and the air,
And the character too, as it seem'd to a hair,-
Such a twin-likeness there was in the pair
That it made the Devil start and stare,
For he thought there was surely a looking-glass there,
But he could not see the frame.

6.

He saw a Lawyer killing a viper

On a dunghill beside his stable; Ho! quoth he, thou put'st me in mind Of the story of Cain and Abel.

7.

An Apothecary on a white horse
Rode by on his vocation;
And the Devil thought of his old friend
Death in the Revelation.

8.

He pass'd a cottage with a double coach-house,
A cottage of gentility.

And he own'd with a grin
That his favourite sin

Is pride that apes humility.

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28.

You will not think, great Cosmocrat !
That I spend my time in fooling;
Many irons, my Sire, have we in the fire,
And I must leave none of them cooling;
For you must know state-councils here
Are held which I bear rule in.

When my liberal notions
Produce mischievous motions,
There's many a man of good intent,

In either house of Parliament,

Whom I shall find a tool in;

And I have hopeful pupils too

Who all this while are schooling.

29.

Fine progress they make in our liberal opinions,

My Utilitarians,

My all sorts of -inians

And all sorts of arians;

My all sorts of -ists,

And my Prigs and my Whigs

Who have all sorts of twists
Train'd in the very way, I know,
Father, you would have them go;
High and low,

Wise and foolish, great and small,
March-of-Intellect-Boys all.

30.

Well pleased wilt thou be at no very far day
When the caldron of mischief boils,
And I bring them forth in battle array
And bid them suspend their broils,
That they may unite and fall on the prey,
For which we are spreading our toils.

How the nice boys all will give mouth at the call,
Hark away! hark away to the spoils !

My Macs and my Quacks and my lawless-Jacks,
My Shiels and O'Connells, my pious Mac-Donnells,
My joke-smith Sydney, and all of his kidney,
My Humes and my Broughams,

My merry old Jerry,

My Lord Kings, and my Doctor Doyles!

31.

At this good news, so great

The Devil's pleasure grew,

That with a joyful swish he rent

The hole where his tail came through.

32.

His countenance fell for a moment
When he felt the stitches go;

Ah! thought he, there's a job now

That I've made for my tailor below.

33.

Great news! bloody news! cried a newsman; The Devil said, Stop, let me see !

Great news? bloody news? thought the Devil, The bloodier the better for me.

34.

So he bought the newspaper, and no news At all for his money he had.

Lying varlet, thought he, thus to take in old Nick!
But it's some satisfaction, my lad,

To know thou art paid beforehand for the trick,
For the sixpence I gave thee is bad.

35.

And then it came into his head

By oracular inspiration,

That what he had seen and what he had said,
In the course of this visitation,

Would be published in the Morning Post
For all this reading nation.

36.

Therewith in second-sight he saw

The place and the manner and time,

In which this mortal story

Would be put in immortal rhyme.

37.

That it would happen when two poets
Should on a time be met,

In the town of Nether Stowey,
In the shire of Somerset.

38.

There while the one was shaving

Would he the song begin;

And the other when he heard it at breakfast, In ready accord join in.

39.

So each would help the other
Two heads being better than one;
And the phrase and conceit
Would in unison meet,

And so with glee the verse flow free,
In ding-dong chime of sing-song rhyme,
Till the whole were merrily done.

40.

And because it was set to the razor, Not to the lute or harp, Therefore it was that the fancy Should be bright, and the wit be sharp.

41.

But then, said Satan to himself, As for that said beginner, Against my infernal Majesty There is no greater sinner.

42.

He hath put me in ugly ballads

With libellous pictures for sale;

He hath scoff'd at my hoofs and my horns, And has made very free with my tail.

43.

But this Mister Poet shall find

I am not a safe subject for whim; For I'll set up a School of my own,

And my Poets shall set upon him.

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