Poems (Waldenburg)/The Devil in Salamanca
THE DEVIL IN SALAMANCA.
There is a legend, which is very old, And many Christians good, believe thereon:The Devil, even when he is most bold, Is void of human cunning, and the oneWho quick and self-possessed can be,From all his deviltry remaineth free!All ye who doubt, just listen to this verse,Which, par example, I will here rehearse.Long years ago, in Salamanca, taught, Like other Doctors, his most learned self, the Devil;He had his books with magic art deep fraught, And all the dazzling imagery of evil.
The scholars flocked in cellar, and in ball, By hundreds filled the benches; on the table,Even, they perched; no places for them allFound he: the wise Doctor's knowledgePleased them so well, they sought no other college.
And he taught so well, and pleased them so, They all did mourn when school was ended;Felt very sad that they had to go! To pay their bills; to the desk they wended."Perhaps you may find my charges dear, Still, you know, my system is very rare;I ask for one soul from all that's here; You can cast for lots, I'm sure that's fair," Said their classical Professor.
They murmured, but murmuring wouldn't do; They were forced to draw for the dreaded fate;They felt it then, how the words were true— His charges were at a heavy rate! The lot of the lowest number fellOn a young count, cunning and witty,Who shrugged his shoulders, and thought—"A pity My splendid talents be cast in ———!
Still his Honor's claws have not me yet,And I'll not my human craft forget,I'll not bid farewell to my mother earth,Or yield my soul and my right of birth To this wicked old transgressor!"
But the Devil stood in the cellar door,Let one after one pass on before,Until the count came on, the last!With his claws he caught him, "Ho, not so fast, No present claim on my soul have you,That fortunate lot was drawn by the oneWho cometh behind; let me pass on!"The clutch was loosed, for the sun's rays threwA blinding light o'er the Devil's view,And he grasped, in anger, the shadow on!While the laughing count his freedom won,And stood with his friends on the sunlit ground. Now the thing most wonderful to tell,His friends with exclamations found, As the glaring sunlight on him fell,They wondered all and marveled sore,For the count cast never a shadow more!