was too strong to be confined;

No weight of earth which they could lay

Would hold him down a single day,

If he chose to get up and ride away.

There was no keeping Vampires under ground;

And bad as a Vampire he might be found,

Pests against whom, it was understood,

Exorcism never had done any good.

But fire, they said, had been proved to be

The only infallible remedy;

So they were for burning the body outright,

Which would put a stop to his riding by night.

Others were for searching the mystery out,

And setting a guard the gallows about,

Who should keep a careful watch, and see

Whether Witch or Devil it might be

That helped him down from the triple tree; —

For that there were Witches in the land,

Was what all by this might understand;

And they must not let the occasion slip

For detecting that cursed fellowship.

Some were for this, and some for that,

And some they could not tell for what;

And never was such commotion known

In that great city of Cologne.

PART IV

Pieter Snoye was a boor of good renown,

Who dwelt about an hour and a half from the town;

And he, while the people were all in debate,

Went quietly in at the city gate.

For Father Kijf he sought about,

His confessor, till he found him out;

But the Father Confessor wondered to see

The old man, and what his errand might be.

The good Priest did not wonder less

When Pieter said he was come to confess;

“Why, Pieter, how can this be so?

I confessed thee some ten days ago!

“Thy conscience, methinks, may be well at rest,

An honest man among the best;

I would that all my flock, like thee,

Kept clear accounts with Heaven and me!”

Always before, without confusion,

Being sure of easy absolution,

Pieter his little slips had summ’d;

But he hesitated now, and he haw’d, and humm’d.

And something so strange the Father saw

In Pieter’s looks, and his hum and his haw,

That he began to doubt it was something more

Than a trifle omitted in last week’s score.

At length it came out, that in the affair

Of Roprecht the Robber he had some share;

The Confessor then gave a start in fear —

“God grant there have been no witchcraft her

Pieter Snoye, who was looking down,

With something between a smile and a frown,

Felt that suspicion move his bile,

And look’d up with more of a frown that smile.

“Fifty years I, Pieter Snoye,

Have lived in this country, man and boy,

And have always paid the Church her due;

And kept short scores with Heaven and you.

“The Devil himself, though Devil he be,

Would not dare impute that sin to me;

He might charge me as well with heresy;

And if he did, here, in this place,

I’d call him liar, and spit in his face!”

The Father, he saw, cast a gracious eye

When he heard him thus the Devil defy;

The wrath, of which he had eased his mind,

Left a comfortable sort of warmth behind,

Like what a cheerful cup will impart,

In a social hour, to an honest man’s heart;

And he added, " For all the witchcraft here,

I shall presently make that matter clear.

“Though I am, as you very well know, Father Kijf,

A peaceable man, and keep clear of strife,

It’s a queerish business that now I’ve been in;

But I can’t say that it’s much of a sin.

“However, it needs must be confess’d,

And as it will set this people at rest,

To come with it at once was best:

Moreover, if I delayed, I thought

That some might perhaps into trouble be brought.

“Under the seal I tell it you,

And you will judge what is best to do,

That no hurt to me and my son may ensue.

No earthly harm have we intended,

And what was ill done has been well mended.

“I and my son, Piet Pieterszoon,

Were returning home by the light of the moon;

From this good city of Cologne,

On the night of the execution day;

And hard by the gibbet was our way.

“About midnight it was we were passing by,

My son, Piet Pieterszoon, and I,

When we heard a moaning as we came near,

Which made us quake at first for fear.

“But the moaning was presently heard again,

And we knew it was nothing ghostly then;

“Lord help us, Father!" Piet Pieterszoon said,

“Roprecht, for certain, is not dead!”

“So under the gallows our cart we drive,

And, sure enough, the man was alive;

Because of the irons that he was in,

He was hanging, not by the neck, but the chin.

“The reason why things had got thus wrong,

Was, that the rope had