The following hung in his studio for many years.

When asked about it he would say

'And that my good friend is my

Eulogy.'

It is from an English clergyman

by the name of

William Denton

(As I know he is looking over my shoulder at this moment, nothing will delight him more than this.)

~ Sigh, priests;--cry aloud--hang your pulpits with black,

Let sorrow bow down every head;

The good fiend who bore all your sins on his back,

Your best friend, the Devil, is dead.

Your church is a corpse--you are guarding its tomb;

The soul of your system has fled;

The death knell is tolling your terrible doom;

It tells us, the Devil is dead.

You're bid to the funeral, ministers all,

We've dug the old gentleman's bed;

Your black coats will make a most excellent pall

To cover your friend who is dead.

Aye, lower him mournfully into the grave;

let showers of tear-drops be shed;

Your business is gone:--there are no souls to save;

Their tempter, the Devil, is dead.

Woe comes upon woe; it is dreadful to think,

Hell's gone and the demons have fled;

The damn'd souls have broken their chains, every link,

The jailer, who bound them, is dead.

Camp-meetings henceforth will be needed no more:

Revivals are knocked on the head;

The orthodox vessel lies stranded on shore;

Their captain, the Devil, is dead.