Part 20

FERONDE had got a spouse of pleasing sight, Related nearly to our friar white, Whose predecessor, uncle, sponsor kind, Now gone to realms of night, had her consigned, To be this silly blockhead's lawful wife, Who thought her hand the honour of his life. 'Tis said that bastard-daughters oft retain A disposition to the parent-train; And this, the saying, truly ne'er bellied, Nor was her spouse so weak but he descried, Things clearer than was requisite believed, And doubted much if he were not deceived.

THE wife would often to the prelate go, Pretending business, proper he should know; A thousand circumstances she could find; 'Twas then accounts: now sev'ral things combined; In short no day nor hour within the week, But something at the friar's she would seek. The holy father then was always prone, To send the servants off and be alone. Howe'er the husband, doubting tricks were played; Got troublesome; his wife would much upbraid When she returned, and often beat her too; In short,—he unaccommodating grew.

THE rural mind by nature jealous proves; Suspicion shows of ev'ry thing that moves; Unused to city ways, perverse appears, And, undismayed, to principle adheres:

THE friar found his situation hard; He loved his ease?—all trouble would discard; As priests in gen'ral anxiously desire; Their plan howe'er I never can admire, And should not choose at once to take the town, But by the escalade obtain the crown; In LOVE I mean; to WAR I don't allude: No silly bragging I would here intrude, Nor be enrolled among the martial train: 'Tis Venus' court that I should like to gain. Let t'other custom be the better way: It matters not; no longer I'll delay, But to my tale return, and fully state, How our receiver, who misused his mate; Was put in purgatory to be cured, And, for a time, most thoroughly immured.

BY means of opiate powders, much renowned, The friar plunged him in a sleep profound. Thought dead; the fun'ral obsequies achieved, He was surprised, and doubtless sorely grieved, When he awoke and saw where he was placed, With folks around, not much to suit his taste; For in the coffin he at large was left, And of the pow'r to move was not bereft, But might arise and walk about the tomb, Which opened to another vaulted room, The gloomy, hollow mansion of the dead: Fear quickly o'er his drooping spirits spread. What's here? cried he: is't sleep, or is it death; Some charm or spell perhaps withdraws their breath. Our wight then asked their names and business there; And why he was retained in such a snare? In what had he offended God or man?—

Said one, console thyself:—past moments scan; When thou hast rested here a thousand years, Thou'lt then ascend amid the Heav'nly spheres; But first in holy purgatory learn, To cleanse thyself from sins that we discern; One day thy soul shall leave this loathsome place, And, pure as ice, repair to realms of grace. Then this consoling Angel gave a thwack, And ten or dozen stripes laid on his back:— 'Tis thy unruly, jealous mind, said he, Displeases God, and dooms thee here to be.

A MOURNFUL sigh the lorn receiver heaved, His aching shoulders rubbed, and sobbed and grieved; A thousand years, cried he, 'tis long indeed! My very soul with horror seems to bleed.

WE should observe, this Angel was a wag, A novice-friar and a convent fag; Like him the others round had parts to act, And were disguised in dresses quite exact. Our penitent most humbly pardon sought; Said he, if e'er to life again I'm brought, No jealousy, suspicion's hateful bane, Shall ever enter my distracted brain. May I not have this grace, this wished for boon? Some hopes they gave, but it could not be soon; In short a year he lay upon the floor: Just food for life received, and nothing more, Each day on bread and water he was fed, And o'er his back the cat-o'nine-tails spread: Full twenty lashes were the number set, Unless the friar should from Heav'n first get Permission to remit at times a part, For charity was glowing in his heart.

WE, must not doubt, he often offered prayers, To ease the culprit's sufferings and cares. The Angel likewise made a long discourse; Said he, those vile suspicions were the source, Of all thy sorrow, wretchedness, and pain: Think'st thou such thoughts the clergy entertain? A friar white!—too bad in ev'ry sense: Ten strokes to one, if black, for such offence. Repent, I say:—the other this desired, Though scarcely he could tell what was required.

MEANWHILE the prelate with the fav'rite dame, No time to lose, made ev'ry hour the same. The husband, with a sigh, was heard to say: I wonder what my wife's about to-day? About?—whate'er it be 'tis doubtless right; Our friar, to console her, takes delight; Thy business too is managed as before, And anxious care bestowed upon thy store.

HAS she as usual matters that demand Attendance at the cloister to be scanned?— No doubt was the reply, for having now The whole affair upon her feeble brow, Poor woman! be her wishes what they will, She more assistance wants thy loss to fill.

DISCOURSE like this no pleasure gave the soul: To call him so seems best upon the whole, Since he'd not pow'r like others here to feed:— Mere earthly shadow for a time decreed.

A MONTH was passed in fasting, pains, and prayer; Some charity the friar made him share, And now and then remission would direct; The widow too he never would neglect, But, all the consolation in his pow'r, Bestowed upon her ev'ry leisure hour, His tender cares unfruitful were not long; Beyond his hopes the soil proved good and strong; In short our Pater Abbas justly feared, To make him father many signs appeared.

SINCE 'twere improper such a fact were known; When proofs perhaps too clearly might be shown, So many prayers were said and vigils kept, At length the soul from purgatory crept, So much reduced, and ev'ry way so thin But little more he seemed than bones and skin.

A THING so strange filled numbers with surprise, Who scarcely would believe their ears and eyes. The friar passed for saint:—Feronde his fruit; None durst presume to doubt nor to dispute; A double miracle at once appeared The dead's return: the lady's state revered. With treble force Te Deum round was sung; Sterility in marriage oft was rung, And near the convent many offered prayers, In hopes their fervent vows would gain them heirs.

THE humble spouse and wife we now shall leave Let none, howe'er, suppose that we conceive, Each husband merits, as our soul, the same, To cure the jealous fears his breast inflame.

THE PSALTER

ONCE more permit me, nuns, and this the last; I can't resist, whatever may have passed, But must relate, what often I've been told; Your tales of convent pranks are seldom cold; They have a grace that no where else we find, And, somehow, better seem to please designed. Another then we'll have, which three will make:— Three did I say?-'tis four, or I mistake; Let's count them well:-The GARD'NER first, we'll name; Then comes the ABBESS, whose declining frame Required a youth, her malady to cure A story thought, perhaps, not over pure; And, as to SISTER JANE, who'd got a brat, I cannot fancy we should alter that. These are the whole, and four's a number round; You'll probably remark, 'tis strange I've found Such pleasure in detailing convent scenes:— 'Tis not my whim, but TASTE, that thither leans: And, if you'd kept your breviary in view, 'Tis clear, you'd nothing had with this to do; We know, howe'er, 'tis not your fondest care; So, quickly to our hist'ry let's repair.

A CHARMING youth would frequent visits pay, To nuns, whose convent near his dwelling lay; And, 'mong the sisters, one his person saw, Who, by her eyes, would fain attention draw; Smiles she bestowed, and other complaisance, But not a single step would he advance; By old and young he greatly was admired; Sighs burst around, but none his bosom fired. Fair Isabella solely got his love, A beauteous nun, and gentle as a dove, Till then a novice in the flow'ry chain, And envied doubly:—for her charms and swain. Their soft amours were watched with eagle-eye: No pleasure's free from care you may rely; In life each comfort coupled is with ill, And this to alter baffles all our skill.

THE sister nuns so vigilant had been, One night when darkness overspread the scene; And all was proper mysteries to hide, Some words escaped her cell that doubts supplied, And other matters too were heard around, That in her breviary could not be found. 'Tis her gallant! said they: he's clearly caught; Alarm pervaded; swarms were quickly brought; Rage seemed to triumph; sentinels were placed; The abbess too must know they were disgraced. Away they hastened to convey surprise, And, thund'ring at her door, cried, madam rise, For sister Isabella, in her cell, Has got a man, which surely can't be well.

YOU will observe, the dame was not at prayer, Nor yet absorbed in sleep, devoid of care, But with her then, this abbess had in bed Good parson John, by kindness thither led, A neighb'ring rector, confessor, and friend; She rose in haste the sisters to attend, And, seeking for her veil, with sense confused, The parson's breeches took for what she used, Which, in the dark, resembled what was worn By nuns for veils, and called (perhaps in scorn), Among themselves, their PSALTER, to express Familiarly, a common, awkward dress.

WITH this new ornament, by way of veil, She sallied forth and heard the woeful tale. Then, irritated, she exclaimed with ire To see this wretched creature I desire, The devil's daughter, from her bold career, Who'll bring our convent to disgrace, I fear; But God forbid, I say, and with his leave, We'll all restore:—rebuke she shall receive. A chapter we will call:—the sisters came, And stood around to hear their pious dame.

FAIR Isabella now the abbess sent, Who straight obeyed, and to her tears gave vent, Which overspread those lily cheeks and eyes, A roguish youth so lately held his prize. What! said the abbess: pretty scandal here, When in the house of God such things appear; Ashamed to death you ought to be, no doubt, Who brought you thither?—such we always scout.

NOW Isabella, (—sister you must lose, Henceforth, that name to you we cannot use; The honour is too great,) in such a case, Pray are you sensible of your disgrace, And what's the punishment you'll undergo? Before to-morrow, this you'll fully know; Our institution chastisement decrees; Come speak, I say, we'll hear you if you please.

POOR Isabella, with her sight on ground, Confused, till then had scarcely looked around, Now raised her eyes, and luckily perceived The breeches, which her fears in part relieved, And that the sisters, by surprise unnerved, As oft's the case, had never once observed. She courage took, and to the abbess said, There's something from the Psalter, on your head, That awkwardly hangs down; pray, madam, try To put it right, or 'twill be in your eye.

'TWAS knee-strings, worn, at times, by priests and beaux, For, more or less, all follow fashion's laws. This veil, no doubt, had very much the air Of those unmentionables parsons wear; And this the nun, to frolicking inclined, It seems had well impressed upon her mind. What, cried the abbess, dares she still to sneer? How great her insolence to laugh and jeer, When sins so heavily upon her rest, And ev'ry thing remains quite unconfessed. Upon my word, she'd be a saint decreed; My veil, young imp, your notice cannot need; 'Tis better think, you little hellish crow, What pains your soul must undergo below.

THE mother abbess sermonized and fired, And seemed as if her tongue would ne'er be tired. Again the culprit said, your Psalter, pray, Good madam, haste to set the proper way; On which the sisters looked, both young and old THOSE 'gan to laugh, while THESE were heard to scold.

OUR preacher, quite ashamed of what she'd done, Now lost her voice, and noticed not the nun; The murmur buzzed around, too well expressed, What thoughts the holy sisterhood possessed. At length the abbess said:—we've now not time To take the chapter's votes upon her crime; 'Twould make it late; let each to bed return, And, till to-morrow, we'll the case adjourn. No chapter met, howe'er, when morrow came; Another day arrived, and still the same; The sages of the convent thought it best, In fact, to let the mystick business rest. Much noise, perhaps, would hurt religion's cause, And, that considered, prudent 'twere to pause. Base envy made them Isabella hate, And dark suspicions to the abbess state. In short, unable by their schemes to get The morsel she'd so fortunately met, Each nun exerted all her art to find, What equally might satisfy the mind. Old friends were willingly received again; Her gallant our belle was suffered to retain; The rector and the abbess had their will; And, such their union, precepts to fulfill, That if a nun had none to give her bliss, To lend a friend was nothing thought amiss.

KING CANDAULES AND THE DOCTOR OF LAWS

IN life oft ills from self-imprudence spring; As proof, Candaules' story we will bring; In folly's scenes the king was truly great: His vassal, Gyges, had from him a bait, The like in gallantry was rarely known, And want of prudence never more was shown.

MY friend, said he, you frequently have seen The beauteous face and features of the queen; But these are naught, believe me, to the rest, Which solely can be viewed when quite undressed. Some day I'll let you gratify your eyes; Without her knowledge I'll means devise; But on condition:—you'll remember well What you behold, to no one you will tell, In ev'ry step most cautiously proceed, And not your mind with silly wishes feed; No sort of pleasure surely I could take, To see vain passion you her lover make. You must propose, this charming form to view, As if mere marble, though to nature true; And I'm convinced you'll readily declare, Beyond nor art can reach, nor thought prepare; Just now I left her in the bath at ease: A judge you are, and shall the moment seize; Come, witness my felicity supreme; You know her beauties are my constant theme.

AWAY they went, and Gyges much admired; Still more than that: in truth his breast was fired; For when she moved astonishment was great, And ev'ry grace upon her seemed to wait. Emotion to suppress howe'er he tried, Since he had promised what he felt to hide; To hold his tongue he wished, but that might raise Suspicions of designs and mystick ways. Exaggeration was the better part, And from the subject he would never start, But fully praised each beauty in detail, Without appearing any thing to veil. Gods! Gyges cried, how truly, king, you're blessed; The skin how fair—how charming all the rest!

THIS am'rous conversation by the queen Was never heard, or she'd enraged have been; In ancient days of ignorance, we find, The sex, to show resentment, much inclined; In diff'rent light at present this appears, And fulsome praises ne'er offend their ears.

OUR arch observer struggled with his sighs Those feelings much increased, so fair the prize: The prince, in doubt, conducted him away; But in his heart a hundred arrows lay; Each magick charm directed pointed darts; To flee were useless: LOVE such pain imparts, That nothing can at times obstruct its course; So quick the flight: so truly great the force.

WHILE near the king, much caution Gyges showed; But soon the belle perceived his bosom glowed; She learned the cause:—her spouse the tale disclosed, And laughed and jeered, as he the facts exposed: A silly blockhead! not to know a queen Could raillery not bear on such a scene. But had it pleased her wishes, still 'twere right (Such honour's dictates) to discover spite; And this she truly did, while in her mind, To be revenged she fully was inclined.

FOR once, good reader, I should wish thee wife; Or otherwise, thou never can'st in life, Conceive the lengths a woman oft will go, Whose breast is filled with wrath and secret woe. A mortal was allowed these charms to view, Which others' eyes could never dare pursue. Such treasures were for gods, or rather kings The privilege of both are beauteous things.

THESE thoughts induced the queen revenge to seek; Rage moved her breast, and shame possessed her cheek. E'en Cupid, we are told, assistance gave; What from his aim effectually can save? Fair in person was Gyges to behold; Excuses for her easy 'twere to mould; To show her charms, what baseness could excel? And on th' exposer all her hatred fell. Besides, he was a husband, which is worse With these each sin receives a double curse. What more shall I detail?—the facts are plain: Detested was the king:—beloved the swain; All was accomplished, and the monarch placed Among the heroes who with horns are graced; No doubt a dignity not much desired, Though in repute, and easily acquired.

SUCH merit had the prince's folly got, 'In petto', Vulcan's brother was his lot; The distance thence is little to the HAT: The honour much the same of this or that.

SO far 'twas passing well, but, in the intrigue; The cruel Parcae now appeared to league; And soon the lovers, on possession bent, To black Cocytus' shores the monarch sent; Too much of certain potions forced to drink, He quickly viewed the dreary, horrid brink; While pleasing the objects Gyges' eyes beheld; And in the palace presently he dwelled, For, whether love or rage the widow fired, Her throne and hand she gave, as was required.

T' EXTEND this tale was never my design; Though known full well, I do not now repine; The case so thoroughly my purpose served. Ne'er from the narrative the object swerved; And scarcely can I fancy, better light The DOCTOR will afford to what I write. The scenes that follow I from Rome have drawn; Not Rome of old, ere manners had their dawn, When customs were unpleasant and severe The females, silly, and gallants in fear; But Rome of modern days, delightful spot! Where better tastes have into fashion got, And pleasure solely occupies the mind To rapture ev'ry bosom seems resigned. A tempting journey truly it appears, For youths from twenty on to thirty years.

NOT long ago, then, in the city dwelled, A master, who in teaching law excelled; In other matters he, howe'er, was thought A man that jollity and laughter sought. He criticised whatever passed around, And oft, at others' cost, diversion found.

IT happened that our learned doctor had, Among his many pupils (good and bad) A Frenchman, less designed to study laws, Than, in amours, perhaps, to gain applause. One day, observing him with clouded mien, My friend, said he, you surely have the spleen, And, out of college, nothing seem to do; No law books read:—some object I'd pursue; A handsome Frenchman should his hours improve; Seek soft intrigues, or as a lover move; Talents you have, and gay coquettes are here Not one, thank heav'n, but numbers oft appear.

THE student answered, I am new at Rome, And, save the belles who sell their beauteous bloom, I can't perceive, gallants much business find, Each house, like monasteries, is designed, With double doors, and bolts, and matrons sour, And husbands Argus-eyed, who'd you devour. Where can I go to follow up your plan, And hope, in spots like these, a flame to fan? 'Twere not less difficult to reach the moon, And with my teeth I'd bite it just as soon.

HA! HA! replied the doctor with delight, The honour which you do us is not slight; I pity men quite fresh and raw like you; Our town, I see, you've hardly travelled through, You fancy then, such wily snares are set, 'Tis difficult intrigues in Rome to get. I'd have you know, we've creatures who devise, To horn their husbands under Argus' eyes. 'Tis very common; only try around, And soon you'll find, that sly amours abound. Within the neighb'ring church go take your place, And, to the dames who pass in search of grace, Present your fingers dipt in water blessed:— A sign for those who wish to be caressed. In case the suppliant's air some lady please, Who knows her trade, and how to act at ease, She'll send a message, something to desire: You'll soon be found, wherever you retire, Though lodged so secretly, that God alone, Till then, your place of residence had known. An aged female will on you attend, Who, used to this, will full assistance lend, Arrange an interview with wily art; No trouble take, you'll have an easy part; No trouble did I say? why, that's too much; Some things I would except, their pow'r is such; And proper 'tis, my friend, that I should hint, Attentions you at Rome should well imprint, And be discrete; in France you favours boast: Of ev'ry moment here you make the most; The Romans to the greatest lengths proceed.