THE DEVIL’S ALBUM.
Reading edition
T will seem an odd whim For a spirit so grim As the Devil to take a delight in; But by common renown He has come up to town, With an Album for people to write in! On a handsomer book Mortal never did look; Of a flame-colour silk is the binding! With a border superb, Where through flow’ret and herb, The old serpent goes brilliantly winding! By gilded grotesques, And emboss’d arabesques, The whole cover, in fact, is pervaded; But, alas! in a taste That betrays they were traced At the will of a Spirit degraded! As for paper—the best, But extremely hot-pressed, Courts the pen to luxuriate upon it, And against ev’ry blank There’s a note on the Bank, As a bribe for a sketch or a sonnet. Who will care to appear In the Fiend’s Souvenir, Is a question to mortals most vital; But the very first leaf, It’s the public belief, Will be filled by a Lady of Title!
