The poetical works of John Godfrey Saxe :: :: University of Virginia Library

Few hearts, however brave they may appear,
Are wholly free from superstitious fear;
Thirteen at table, or the salt upset,
A broken looking-glass,—have served to fret
With anxious boding many a mind too proud
Its secret terrors to confess aloud.
A veteran soldier has been known to quail
At the white phantom in a nursery-tale;

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Or list the “death-watch,” by the evening fire,
With fears that roaring guns could not inspire,
Though Science sought his quaking nerves to rule,
And calm-eyed Reason called the trembler “fool!”
And many a monarch, boastful of his power,
And proud to make his slavish minions cower
Beneath his royal frown, has been himself
The humblest slave of some imagined elf
Begot of Superstition's baleful night;
Some wicked gnome or diabolic sprite,
Malicious fairy or vindictive “wraith,”
Who, seeking to avenge man's broken faith
Or haughty scorn, sets all his plans awry,
Or blasts his harvests with an “evil eye!”

When Louis the Eleventh ruled in France,
His favorite Astrologer, by chance,
Or by predicting some unwelcome thing
Concerning state-affairs, displeased the king
So much, the angry monarch (Rumor saith)
Resolved to put the hated seer to death;
So, summoning the man, with this intent,
He mockingly demanded what it meant
That he who knew the mysteries of Fate,
And how of others' death to fix the date,
Should be so ignorant about his own?
The Seer, divining from his sneering tone
The monarch's purpose, answered, “I foresee,
Your Majesty, when that event will be;
My death will happen (so my Star assures)
Three days—precisely—in advance of yours!”

What was the monarch's answer? The report
Tells only this, that in the royal court
The Seer thenceforth was safely lodged, and there
To his life's end received the kindest care!