"Wherefore hast thou come?" asked Moling. "For a blessing," the Devil
replied. "Thou shalt not have it," said Moling, "for thou deservest it
not." "Well, then," said the Devil, "bestow the full of a curse on me."
"What good were that to thee?" asked Moling. "The venom and the hurt of
the curse will be on the lips from which it will come." After further
parley, the Devil paid this tribute to Moling:


He is pure gold, the sky around the sun,
A silver chalice brimmed with blessed wine,
An Angel shape, a book of lore divine,
Whoso obeys in all the Eternal One.

He is a foolish bird that fowlers lime,
A leaking ship in utmost jeopardy,
An empty vessel and a withered tree,
Who disobeys the Sovereign Sublime.

A fragrant branch with blossoms overrun,
A bounteous bowl with honey overflowing,
A precious stone, of virtue past all knowing
Is he who doth the will of God's dear Son.

A nut that only emptiness doth fill,
A sink of foulness, a crookt branch is he
Upon a blossomless crab-apple tree,
Who doeth not his Heavenly Master's will.

Whoso obeys the Son of God and Mary--
He is a sunflash lighting up the moor,