XVI.

The Devil was no uncommon creature; A leaden-witted thief--just huddled Out of the dross and scum of nature; A toad-like lump of limb and feature, With mind, and heart, and fancy muddled.

He was that heavy, dull, cold thing, The spirit of evil well may be: A drone too base to have a sting; Who gluts, and grimes his lazy wing, And calls lust, luxury.