Thelover to the crafty devil said:-
          ’Tis crooked this, you see, and I am led
          To wish it otherwise; go, make it straight;
          A perfect line:  no turn, nor twist, nor plait. 
          Away to work, be quick, fly, hasten, run;
          The demon fancied it could soon be done;
          No time he lost, but set it in the press,
          And tried to manage it with great success;
          The massy hammer, kept beneath the deep,
          Made no impression:  he as well might sleep;
          Howe’er he beat:  whatever charm he used:—­
          ’Twas still the same; obedience it refused. 
          His time and labour constantly were lost;
          Vain proved each effort:  mystick skill was crossed;
          The wind, or rain, or fog, or frost, or snow,
          Had no effect:  still circular ’twould go. 
          The more he tried, the ringlet less inclined
          To drop the curvature so closely twined. 
          How’s this? said Satan, never have I seen
          Such stubborn stuff wherever I have been;
          The shades below no demon can produce,
          That could divine what here would prove of use: 
          ’Twould puzzle hell to break the curling spring,
          And make a line direct of such a thing.

          Onemorn the devil to the other went: 
          Said he, to give thee up I’ll be content;
          If solely thou wilt openly declare
          What ’tis I hold, for truly I despair;
          I’m victus I confess, and can’t succeed: 
          No doubt the thing’s impossible decreed.

          FriendSatan, said the lover, you are wrong;
          Despondency should not to you belong,
          At least so soon:—­what you desire to know
          Is not the only one that’s found to grow;
          Still many more companions it has got,
          And others could be taken from the spot.