So then to his palace returned he,
And he sat down to supper merrily,

And he slept that night like an innocent man,
But Bishop Hatto never slept again.

In the morning as he entered the hall
Where his picture hung against the wall,
A sweat like death all over him came,

For the Rats had eaten it out of the frame.

As he look'd there came a man from his farm,
He had a countenance white with alarm,
My Lord, I opened your granaries this morn
And the Rats had eaten all your corn.

Another came running presently,

And he was pale as pale could be,
Fly! my Lord Bishop, fly, quoth he,
Ten thousand Rats are coming this way,.
The Lord forgive you for yesterday!

I'll go to my tower in the Rhine, replied he, "Tis the safest place in Germany,

The walls are high and the shores are steep
And the tide is strong and the water deep.

Bishop Hatto fearfully hastened away

And he crost the Rhine without delay,

And reach'd his Tower in the Island and barr'd

All the gates secure and hard.

He laid him down and closed his eyes;..
But soon a scream made him arise,

He started, and saw two eyes of flame

On his pillow, from whence the screaming came.

He listen'd and look'd ; . . . it was only the Cat,
But the Bishop he grew more fearful for that,
For she sate screaming, mad with fear
At the Army of Rats that were drawing near.

For they have swum over the river so deep,
And they have climb'd the shores so steep,
And now by thousands up they crawl
To the holes and windows in the wall.

Down on his knees the Bishop fell,
And faster and faster his beads did he tell,
As louder and louder drawing near

The saw of their teeth without he could hear.

And in at the windows and in at the door,
And through the walls by thousands they pour,
And down from the ceiling and up thro' the floor,
From the right and the left, from behind and before,
From within and without, from above and below,
And all at once to the Bishop they go.

They have whetted their teeth against the stones,
And now they pick the Bishop's bones,
They gnawed the flesh from every limb

For they were sent to do judgment on him!

The PIOUS PAINTER.

The story of the Pious Painter is related in the Pia Hilarias of Gazaus, but the Catholic Poet has omitted the conclusion. This is to be found in the Fabliaux of Le Grand.

THE FIRST PART.

There once was a Painter in Catholic days,
Like Joв 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.

They were Angels, compared to the Devils he drew,
Who beseiged poor St. Anthony's cell;

Such burning hot eyes, such a damnable hue!
You could even smell brimstone their breath was so blue,
He painted the Devil so well.

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 out-do all before.

The Old Dragon's imps as they fled thro' the air
At seeing it paus'd on the wing,

For he had the likeness so just to a hair,

That they came as Apollyon himself had been there, To pay their respects to their King.

Every child at beholding it shivered with dread
And scream'd as he turn'd away quick.

Not an old woman saw it, but raising her head,
Dropt a bead, made a cross on her wrinkles, and said,
Lord keep me from ugly Old Nick!

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 survey

That the Devil himself was in sight.