You rascally dauber! old Beelzebub cries,
Take heed how you wrong me again!
Tho' your caricatures for myself I despise,
Make me handsomer now in the multitudes eyes,
Or see if I threaten in vain!

Now the Painter was bold and religious beside,
And on faith he had certain reliance.

So earnestly he all his countenance eyed,
And thank'd him for sitting with Catholic pride,
And sturdily bade him defiance.

Betimes in the morning the Painter arose,
He's ready as soon as 'tis light.

Every look, every line, every feature he knows,
'Tis fresh in his eye, to his labour he goes,
And he has the old Wicked One quite.

Happy man! he is sure the resemblance can't fail,
The tip of the nose is red hot,

There's his grin and his fangs, his skin cover'd with scale,
And that the identical curl of his tail, . .

Not a mark, not a claw is forgot.

He looks and retouches again with delight; 'Tis a portrait compleat to his mind!

He touches again, and again gluts his sight,

He looks round for applause, and he sees with affright The Original standing behind.

Fool! Idiot! old Beelzebub grinn'd as he spoke
And stampt on the scaffold in ire.

The Painter grew pale, for he knew it no joke,
'Twas a terrible height, and the scaffolding broke,
The Devil could wish it no higher.

Help.. help me! O Mary! he cried in alarm
As the scaffold sunk under his feet.

From the canvas the Virgin extended her arm,
She caught the good Painter, she saved him from harm,
There were hundreds who saw in the street.

The Old Dragon fled when the wonder he spied
And cursed his own fruitless endeavour.

While the Painter call'd after his rage to deride,
Shook his pallet and brushes in triumph and cried,.
I'll paint thee more ugly than ever!

The PIOUS PAINTER.

THE SECOND PART.

The Painter so pious all praise had acquired:
For defying the malice of Hell;

The Monks the unerring resemblance admired:
Not a Lady lived near but her portrait desired
From one who succeeded so well..

One there was to be painted the number among Of features most fair to behold;

The country around of fair Marguerite rung, Marguerite she was lovely and lively and young,, Her husband was ugly and old.

O Painter avoid her! O Painter take care!'
For Satan is watchful for you!

Take heed lest you fall in the Wicked One's sna
The net is made ready, O Painter beware

Of Satan and Marguerite too.

She seats herself now, now she lifts up her head,
On the Artist she fixes her eyes;

The colours are ready, the canvas is spread,
He lays on the white, and he lays on the red,
And the features of beauty arise.

He is come to her eyes, eyes so bright and so blue !
There's a look that he cannot express ;. .
His colours are dull to their quick-sparkling hue,
More and more on the Lady he fixes his view,
On the canvas he looks less and less.

In vain he retouches, her eyes sparkle more,
And that look that fair Marguerite gave!
Many Devils the Artist had painted of yore,
But he never attempted an Angel before,..
St. Anthony help him and save!

He yielded alas! for the truth must be told,
To the Woman, the Tempter, and Fate.
It was settled the Lady so fair to behold,
Should elope from her husband so ugly and old,
With the Painter so pious of late!

Now Satan exults in his vengeance compleat,

To the Husband he makes the scheme known, Night comes and the lovers impatiently meet, Together they fly, they are seiz'd in the street, And in prison the Painter is thrown.

With Repentance, his only companion, he lies,
And a dismal companion is she!

On a sudden he saw the Old Serpent arise,
Now you villainous dauber! Sir Beelzebub cries,
You are paid for your insults to me!

But my tender heart it is easy to move

If to what I propose you agree;

That picture,.. be just! the resemblance improve, Make a handsomer portrait, your chains I'll remove, And you shall this instant be free.

Overjoyed, the conditions so easy he hears,
I'll make you quite handsome! he said,
He said, and his chain on the Devil appears,
Releas'd from his prison, releas'd from his fears,
The Painter is snug in his bed.