A LITTLE old man, who was cloathed in blue,
Whose wants they were many, and friends very few,
And whose grief at his heart heavy lay;
Was wand’ring alone in the forest’s dark gloom,
Reflecting full sore on his pitiful doom,
‘Till it grew towards the close of the day.
On grandeur and riches he thought o’er and o’er,
And he curs’d his hard fate, which had made him so poor,
And he long’d that in wealth he might roll;
Oh! give me but money, but money, quoth he,
And for twenty long years let my body be free,
Then Satan might feast on my soul.
But now the winds whistle, and soon the winds roar,
And the sea’s distant wave beats so fierce on the shore,
And the thunder and light’ning appal;
The rain gush’d in torrents, no shelter was near,
And the little old man he was dying with fear,
And for help he so loudly did call.
But no answer return’d to the old man’s loud cry,
No answer return’d, for no succour was nigh,
And midnight it came on apace;
Protect me, he cried, ye invisible powers,
From thunder like this, and such terrible showers,
And I’ll never more come to this place.
But soon the storm clears, and the moon’s cheerful light,
Restor’d the old man to the blessing of sight,
As he sat at the foot of a tree;
But what was his wonder, when lifting his eyes,
A man stood before him of horrible size,
And of fierce looking aspect was he.
So black were his robes, and so black was his hair,
And so black were his eyes, and so wide he did stare,
And his look was so striking and bold;
A mantle of scarlet fell flowing behind,
And a girdle of scarlet his body did bind,
And his hand clench’d a bag of bright gold.
Ah! little old man, who sits cloathed in blue,
Full well do I know all thy sorrows so true,
And am come with this gold to thine aid;
Only swear to be mine when twice ten years go,
And during that time you all pleasures shall know,
But then this great debt must be paid.
The old man he ponder’d not long on this case,
But, looking the giant so full in the face,
For the sake of this gold he did say;
I’ll swear, and I’ll bargain, to be only thine,
The moment this bag of bright guineas is mine,
And I’ll serve thee by night and by day.
A bargain, a bargain, then said the black man,
So sign me this parchment as soon as you can,
And for twenty long years happy be!
A small drop of blood will suffice for your name,
Which again when you see, you will own for the same,
And your summons to wait upon me.
Now so quick pass’d each night, and so quick pass’d each day,
And the twenty long years were fast wearing away,
When the old man began for to sigh;
Oh! what is this gold, or these riches, to me?
How fain would I give them to set my soul free!
But to heaven in vain do I cry.
The old man he studied by night and by day,
By what means to drive this sad devil away,
When he paid him his visit so dire;
He thought and he studied again and again,
To avoid the sad torment, the horror, and pain,
Of being roasted and broiled by his fire.
At length he bethought on his bible so true,
Whose pages before had scarce e’er met his view,
And he read it with hope and with joy;
He read it all over, with wonderful might,
By the sun’s early ray, and the taper’s dim light,
In hopes the foul fiend to annoy.
At length, whilst thus reading by candle’s faint gloom,
A sulphurous smell he perceiv’d in his room,
And the dull bell of midnight did toll;
When Satan before him personified stands,
And shews him the writing, the work of his hands,
Saying now I am come for your soul.
The old man he trembled, but thus he did say,
Pray grant me your patience, just only to stay
‘Till this candle exhausted shall be;
And then I’ll attend to your regions below,
And shall not resist, for full well do you know,
Your truest of servants you see.
The spirit, as civil as civil could be,
And willing at first with his friend to agree,
Consented quite soon with a nod;
Thanks, quoth the old man, as he blew out the flame,
And into his bible the candle did cram,
I now am protected by God.
I now, Master Satan, defy you so bold,
For over my soul you no power can hold,
And so you had best to retire;
Pray go, with your black and your horrible look,
And ever to guard me I’ll keep this dear book,
And stand not in dread of your fire.
Oh! how doth this happen, the demon he said,
I conquer’d a little old woman in red,
And cannot this old man in blue;
And have I not conquer’d, the devil did say,
Another old woman, whose cloathing was grey,
And must I be conquer’d by you?
Then had you but heard how this spirit did roar,
And every sad oath which the reprobate swore,
Your hair would have started upright;
How he stamp’d and he rav’d when forc’d to away,
Without the sad victim he meant for his prey,
I’m sure you’d have died with the fright.
An hurricane blew as he flew o’er the wall,
And with dreadful loud crush it so sudden did fall;
Tremendous it lay to the view:
The old man repented his sad wicked way,
And vow’d he would ever be good from that day,
And his turbulent temper subdue.
Now readers, so gentle, so tender, and kind,
This lesson, I pray, you will keep in your mind,
And do not be tempted by gold:
Resist its temptations, and shun its bright charms,
And think on this old man’s most dreadful alarms,
For to demons so dire he was sold.
For had he not thought on so cunning a plan,
Most certain proud Satan had had the old man,
And consign’d him to tortures so great;
So do not repine for jewels or gold,
But content with the station in life which you hold,
Be happy, and trust to kind fate.
(Caroline Maxwell)
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Based on Topics: Man Poems, God Poems, Life Poems, Night Poems, Light Poems, Mind Poems, Sadness Poems, Soul Poems, Nature Poems, Faces Poems, Joy & Excitement PoemsBased on Keywords: perceiv, personified, rav, reprobate, cloathed, broiled, cloathing