'Hallo, I fear
You're trespassing here!'
Said St Cuthman, 'To me it is perfectly clear,
If you talk of the devil, he's sure to appear!'
'With my spade and my pick
I am come,' said old Nick,
'To prove you've no power o'er a demon like me.
I'll show you my power--
Ere the first morning hour
Thro' the Downs, over Poynings, shall roll in the sea.'
'I'll give you long odds,'
Cried the Saint, 'by the gods!
I'll stake what you please, only say what your wish is.'
Said the devil, 'By Jove!
You're a sporting old cove!
My pick to your soul,
I'll make such a hole,
That where Poynings now stands, shall be swimming the fishes.'
'Done!' cried the Saint, 'but I must away
I have a penitent to confess;
In an hour I'll come to see fair play--
In truth I cannot return in less.
My bet will be won ere the first bright ray
Heralds the ascension of the day.
If I lose!--there will be _the devil to pay!_'
He descended the hill with a firm quick stride,
Till he reached a cell which stood on the side;
He knocked at the door, and it opened wide,--
He murmured a blessing and walked inside.
Before him he saw a tear-stained face
Of an elderly maiden of elderly grace;
Who, when she beheld him, turned deadly pale,
And drew o'er her features a nun's black veil.
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