The Pious Painter
THE FIRST PART.
1.
There once was a painter, in Catholic days,
Like J OB , who eschewed all evil;
Still on his Madonnas the curious may gaze
With applause and with pleasure; but chiefly his praise
And delight was in painting the Devil.
2.
They were Angels, compared to the Devils he drew,
Who besieged poor St. Anthony's cell;
Such burning hot eyes, such a furnace-like hue!
And round them a sulphurous coloring he threw,
That their breath seem'd of brimstone to smell.
3.
And now had the artist a picture begun;
'Twas over the Virgin's church-door;
She stood on the Dragon, embracing her Son
Many Devils already the artist had done,
But this must outdo all before.
4.
The Old Dragon's imps, as they fled through,
At seeing it, paused on the wing;
For he had the likeness so just to a hair,
That they came as Apollyon himself had been,
To pay their respects to their King.
5.
Every child, at beholding it, trembled with dead,
And scream'd as he turn'd away quick,
Not an old woman saw it, but, raising her head,
Dropp'd a bead, made a cross on her wrinkled said,
Lord, keep me from ugly Old Nick!
6.
What the Painter so earnestly thought on by day
He sometimes would dream of by night;
But once he was startled as sleeping he lay;
'Twas no fancy, no dream; he could plainly surve,
That the Devil himself was in sight.
7.
" You rascally dauber! " old Beelzebub cries,
" Take heed how you wrong me again!
Though your caricatures for myself I despise,
Make me handsomer now in the multitude's eves,
Or see if I threaten in vain! "
8.
Now the Painter was bold, and religious beside,
And on faith he had certain reliance;
So carefully he the grim countenance eyed
And thank'd him for sitting, with Catholic pride
And sturdily bade him defiance.
9.
Betimes in the morning the Painter arose;
He is ready as soon as 'tis light.
Every look, every line, every feature he knows;
'Tis fresh in his eye; to his labor he goes,
And he has the old Wicked One quite.
10.
Happy man! he is sure the resemblance can't fail;
The tip of the nose is like fire;
There's his grin and his fangs, and his dragon-like
And the very identical curl of his tail, —
So that nothing is left to desire.
11.
He looks and retouches again with delight,
'Tis a portrait complete to his mind;
And exulting again and again at the sight,
He looks round for applause, and he sees with affright
The Original standing behind.
12.
" Fool! Idiot! " old Beelzebub grinn'd as he spoke,
And stamp'd 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.
13.
" Help — help! Blessed Mary! " he cried in alarm,
As the scaffold sunk under his feet.
From the canvass the Virgin extended her arm;
She caught the good Painter; she saved him from harm;
There were hundreds who saw in the street.
14.
The Old Dragon fled when the wonder he spied,
And cursed his own fruitless endeavor;
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 SECOND PART.
1.
T HE 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 a hand that succeeded so well.
2.
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.
3.
O Painter, avoid her! O Painter, take care,
For Satan is watchful for you!
Take heed lest you fall in the Wicked One's snare;
The net is made ready; O Painter, beware
Of Satan Marguerite too.
4.
She seats herself now; now she lifts up her head;
On the artist she fixes her eyes;
The colors are ready, the canvass is spread;
He lays on the white, and he lays on the red,
And the features of beauty arise.
5.
He is come to her eyes, eyes so bright and so blue!
There's a look which he cannot express; —
His colors are dull to their quick-sparkling hue;
More and more on the lady he fixes his view;
On the canvass he looks less and less.
6.
In vain he retouches; her eyes sparkle more,
And that look which fair Marguerite gave!
Many Devils the Artist had painted of yore,
But he never had tried a live Angel before, —
St. Anthony, help him and save!
7.
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.
8.
Now Satan exults in his vengeance complete;
To the Husband he makes the scheme known;
Night comes, and the lovers impatiently meet;
Together they fly; they are seized in the street,
And in prison the Painter is thrown.
9.
With Repentance, his only companion, he lies,
And a dismal companion is she!
On a sudden, he saw the Old Enemy rise,
" Now, you villanous dauber! " Sir Beelzebub cries,
" You are paid for your insults to me!
10.
" But my tender heart you may easily 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. "
11.
Overjoy'd, the conditions so easy he hears;
" I'll make you quite handsome! " he said.
He said, and his chain on the Devil appears;
Released from his prison, released from his fears,
The Painter is snug in his bed.
12.
At morn he arises, composes his look,
And proceeds to his work as before;
The people beheld him, the culprit they took;
They thought that the Painter his prison had broke,
And to prison they led him once more.
13.
They open the dungeon; — behold, in his place
In the corner old Beelzebub lay;
He smirks, and he smiles, and he leers with a grace,
That the Painter might catch all the charms of his face,
Then vanish'd in lightning away.
14.
Quoth the Painter, " I trust you'll suspect me no more,
Since you find my assertions were true.
But I'll alter the picture above the Church-door,
For he never vouchsafed me a sitting before,
And I must give the Devil his due. "
1.
There once was a painter, in Catholic days,
Like J OB , who eschewed all evil;
Still on his Madonnas the curious may gaze
With applause and with pleasure; but chiefly his praise
And delight was in painting the Devil.
2.
They were Angels, compared to the Devils he drew,
Who besieged poor St. Anthony's cell;
Such burning hot eyes, such a furnace-like hue!
And round them a sulphurous coloring he threw,
That their breath seem'd of brimstone to smell.
3.
And now had the artist a picture begun;
'Twas over the Virgin's church-door;
She stood on the Dragon, embracing her Son
Many Devils already the artist had done,
But this must outdo all before.
4.
The Old Dragon's imps, as they fled through,
At seeing it, paused on the wing;
For he had the likeness so just to a hair,
That they came as Apollyon himself had been,
To pay their respects to their King.
5.
Every child, at beholding it, trembled with dead,
And scream'd as he turn'd away quick,
Not an old woman saw it, but, raising her head,
Dropp'd a bead, made a cross on her wrinkled said,
Lord, keep me from ugly Old Nick!
6.
What the Painter so earnestly thought on by day
He sometimes would dream of by night;
But once he was startled as sleeping he lay;
'Twas no fancy, no dream; he could plainly surve,
That the Devil himself was in sight.
7.
" You rascally dauber! " old Beelzebub cries,
" Take heed how you wrong me again!
Though your caricatures for myself I despise,
Make me handsomer now in the multitude's eves,
Or see if I threaten in vain! "
8.
Now the Painter was bold, and religious beside,
And on faith he had certain reliance;
So carefully he the grim countenance eyed
And thank'd him for sitting, with Catholic pride
And sturdily bade him defiance.
9.
Betimes in the morning the Painter arose;
He is ready as soon as 'tis light.
Every look, every line, every feature he knows;
'Tis fresh in his eye; to his labor he goes,
And he has the old Wicked One quite.
10.
Happy man! he is sure the resemblance can't fail;
The tip of the nose is like fire;
There's his grin and his fangs, and his dragon-like
And the very identical curl of his tail, —
So that nothing is left to desire.
11.
He looks and retouches again with delight,
'Tis a portrait complete to his mind;
And exulting again and again at the sight,
He looks round for applause, and he sees with affright
The Original standing behind.
12.
" Fool! Idiot! " old Beelzebub grinn'd as he spoke,
And stamp'd 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.
13.
" Help — help! Blessed Mary! " he cried in alarm,
As the scaffold sunk under his feet.
From the canvass the Virgin extended her arm;
She caught the good Painter; she saved him from harm;
There were hundreds who saw in the street.
14.
The Old Dragon fled when the wonder he spied,
And cursed his own fruitless endeavor;
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 SECOND PART.
1.
T HE 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 a hand that succeeded so well.
2.
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.
3.
O Painter, avoid her! O Painter, take care,
For Satan is watchful for you!
Take heed lest you fall in the Wicked One's snare;
The net is made ready; O Painter, beware
Of Satan Marguerite too.
4.
She seats herself now; now she lifts up her head;
On the artist she fixes her eyes;
The colors are ready, the canvass is spread;
He lays on the white, and he lays on the red,
And the features of beauty arise.
5.
He is come to her eyes, eyes so bright and so blue!
There's a look which he cannot express; —
His colors are dull to their quick-sparkling hue;
More and more on the lady he fixes his view;
On the canvass he looks less and less.
6.
In vain he retouches; her eyes sparkle more,
And that look which fair Marguerite gave!
Many Devils the Artist had painted of yore,
But he never had tried a live Angel before, —
St. Anthony, help him and save!
7.
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.
8.
Now Satan exults in his vengeance complete;
To the Husband he makes the scheme known;
Night comes, and the lovers impatiently meet;
Together they fly; they are seized in the street,
And in prison the Painter is thrown.
9.
With Repentance, his only companion, he lies,
And a dismal companion is she!
On a sudden, he saw the Old Enemy rise,
" Now, you villanous dauber! " Sir Beelzebub cries,
" You are paid for your insults to me!
10.
" But my tender heart you may easily 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. "
11.
Overjoy'd, the conditions so easy he hears;
" I'll make you quite handsome! " he said.
He said, and his chain on the Devil appears;
Released from his prison, released from his fears,
The Painter is snug in his bed.
12.
At morn he arises, composes his look,
And proceeds to his work as before;
The people beheld him, the culprit they took;
They thought that the Painter his prison had broke,
And to prison they led him once more.
13.
They open the dungeon; — behold, in his place
In the corner old Beelzebub lay;
He smirks, and he smiles, and he leers with a grace,
That the Painter might catch all the charms of his face,
Then vanish'd in lightning away.
14.
Quoth the Painter, " I trust you'll suspect me no more,
Since you find my assertions were true.
But I'll alter the picture above the Church-door,
For he never vouchsafed me a sitting before,
And I must give the Devil his due. "
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