I

The Devil was sick and queasy of late,
And his sleep and his appetite fail'd him;
His ears they hung down, and his tail it was clapp'd
Between his poor hoofs, like a dog that's been rapp'd —
None knew what the devil ail'd him.

II

He tumbled and toss'd on his mattress o' nights,
That was fit for a fiend's disportal;
For 'twas made of the finest of thistles and thorn,
Which Alecto herself had gather'd in scorn
Of the best down beds that are mortal.

III

His giantly chest in earthquakes heaved,
With groanings corresponding;
And mincing and few were the words he spoke,
While a sigh, like some delicate whirlwind, broke
From a heart that seem'd desponding.

IV

Now the Devil an Old Wife had for his Dam,
I think none e'er was older:
Her years — old Parr's were nothing to them;
And a chicken to her was Methusalem,
You'd say, could you behold her.

V

She remember'd Chaos a little child,
Strumming upon hand organs;
At the birth of Old Night a gossip she sat,
The ancientest there, and was godmother at
The christening of the Gorgons.

VI

Her bones peep'd through a rhinoceros' skin,
Like a mummy's through its cerement;
But she had a mother's heart, and guess'd
What pinch'd her son; whom she thus address'd
In terms that bespoke endearment.

VII

" What ails my Nicky, my darling Imp,
My Lucifer bright, my Beelze?
My Pig, my Pug-with-a-curly-tail,
You are not well. Can a mother fail
To see that which all Hell see? "

VIII

" O Mother dear, I am dying, I fear;
Prepare the yew, and the willow,
And the cypress black': for I get no ease
By day or by night for the cursed fleas,
That skip about my pillow. "

IX

" Your pillow is clean, and your pillow-beer,
For I wash'd 'em in Styx last night, son,
And your blankets both, and dried them upon
The brimstony banks of Acheron —
It is not the fleas that bite, son. "

X

" O I perish of cold these bitter sharp nights,
The damp like an ague ferrets;
The ice and the frost hath shot into the bone;
And I care not greatly to sleep alone
O' nights — for the fear of Spirits. "

XI

" The weather is warm, my own sweet boy,
And the nights are close and stifling;
And for fearing of Spirits, you cowardly Elf —
Have you quite forgot you're a Spirit yourself?
Come, come, I see you are trifling.

XII

I wish my Nicky is not in love " — —
" O mother, you have nick't it " — —
And he turn'd his head aside with a blush —
Not red hot pokers, or crimson plush,
Could half so deep have prick'd it.

XIII

" These twenty thousand good years or more, "
Quoth he, " on this burning shingle
I have led a lonesome Bachelor's life,
Nor known the comfort of babe or wife —
'Tis a long time to live single. "

XIV

Quoth she, " If a wife is all you want,
I shall quickly dance at your wedding.
I am dry nurse, you know, to the Female Ghosts " —
And she call'd up her charge, and they came in hosts
To do the old Beldam's bidding:

XV

All who in their lives had been servants of sin —
Adulteress, Wench, Virago —
And Murd'resses old that had pointed the knife
Against a husband's or father's life,
Each one a She Iago.

XVI

First Jezebel came — no need of paint,
Or dressing, to make her charming;
For the blood of the old prophetical race
Had heighten'd the natural flush of her face
To a pitch 'bove rouge or carmine.

XVII

Semiramis there low tendered herself,
With all Babel for a dowry:
With Helen, the flower and the bane of Greece —
And bloody Medea next offer'd her fleece,
That was of Hell the Houri.

XVIII

Clytemnestra, with Joan of Naples, put in;
Cleopatra, by Anthony quicken'd;
Jocasta, that married where she should not,
Came hand in hand with the Daughters of Lot;
Till the Devil was fairly sicken'd.

XIX

For the Devil himself, a dev'l as he is,
Disapproves unequal matches.
" O Mother, " he cried, " dispatch them hence!
No Spirit — I speak it without offence —
Shall have me in her hatches. "

XX

With a wave of her wand they all were gone!
And now came out the slaughter:
" Tis none of these that can serve my turn;
For a wife of flesh and blood I burn —
I'm in love with a Taylor's Daughter.

XXI

Tis she must heal the wounds that she made,
'Tis she must be my physician.
O parent mild, stand not my foe " —
For his mother had whisper'd something low
About " matching beneath his condition. " —

XXII

" And then we must get paternal consent,
Or an unblest match may vex ye " —
" Her father is dead; I fetched him away.
In the midst of his goose, last Michaelmas day —
He died of an apoplexy.

XXIII

His daughter is fair, and an only heir —
With her I long to tether —
He has left her his hell , and all that he had;
The estates are contiguous, and I shall be mad,
'Till we lay our two Hells together. "

XXIV

" But how do you know the fair maid's mind? " —
Quoth he, " Her loss was but recent;
And I could not speak my mind you know,
Just when I was fetching her father below —
It would have been hardly decent.

XXV

But a leer from her eye, where Cupids lie,
Of love gave proof apparent;
And, from something she dropp'd, I shrewdly ween'd,
In her heart she judged, that a living Fiend
Was better than a dead Parent .

XXVI

But the time is short, and suitors may come,
While I stand here reporting;
Then make your son a bit of a Beau,
And give me your blessing, before I go
To the other world a courting. "

XXVII

" But what will you do with your horns, my son?
And that tail — fair maids will mock it — "
" My tail I will dock — and as for the horn,
Like husbands above I think no scorn
To carry it in my pocket. "

XXVIII

" But what will you do with your feet, my son? "
" Here are stockings fairly woven:
My hoofs I will hide in silken hose;
And cinnamon-sweet are my pettitoes —
Because, you know, they are cloven . "

XXIX

" Then take a blessing, my darling Son, "
Quoth she, and kiss'd him civil —
Then his neckcloth she tied; and when he was drest
From top to toe in his Sunday's best,
He appear'd a comely devil.

XXX

So his leave he took: — but how he fared
In his courtship — barring failures —
In a Second Part you shall read it soon,
In a bran new song, to be sung to the tune
Of the " Devil among the Tailors. "