Chapter 11

BUT still the lady anxious was to view, Again those precious relicks, and pursue, E'en in the tomb what yet her soul held dear No aliment she took her mind to cheer; The gate of famine was the one she chose, By which to leave this nether world of woes.

A DAY she passed; another day the same; Her only sustenance, sobs, sighs, and flame Still unappeased; she murmur'd 'gainst her fate; But nothing could her direful woes abate.

ANOTHER corpse a residence had got, A trifling distance from the gloomy spot; But very diff'rent, since, by way of tomb, Enchained on gibbet was the latter's doom; To frighten robbers was the form designed, And show the punishment that rogues should find.

A SOLDIER, as a sentinel was set, To guard the gallows, who good payment met; 'Twas ruled, howe'er, if robbers, parents, friends, The body carried off, to make amends, The sentinel at once should take its place Severity too great for such a case; But publick safety fully to maintain, 'Twas right the sentry pardon should not gain.

WHILE moving round his post, he saw at night Shine, cross the tomb, a strange, unusual light, Which thither drew him, curious to unfold What, through the chinks, his eyesight could behold.

OUR wight soon heard the lady's cries distressed, On which he entered, and with ardour pressed, The cause of such excessive grief to know, And if 'twas in his pow'r to ease her woe.

DISSOLVED in tears, and quite o'ercome with care; She scarcely noticed that a man was there. The corpse, howe'er, too plainly told her pain, And fully seemed the myst'ry to explain. We've sworn, exclaimed the slave, what's 'yond belief, That here we'll die of famine and of grief.

THOUGH eloquence was not the soldier's art, He both convinced 'twas wrong with life to part: The dame was great attention led to pay, To what the son of Mars inclined to say, Which seemed to soften her severe distress: With time each poignant smart is rendered less.

IF, said the soldier, you have made a vow, That you, some food to take will not allow; Yet, looking on while I my supper eat, Will not prolong your lives, nor oaths defeat.

HIS open manner much was formed to please; The lady and her maid grew more at ease, Which made the gen'rous sentinel conclude, To bring his meat they would not fancy rude.

THIS done, the slave no longer was inclined To follow Death, as soon she changed her mind. Said she, good madam, pleasing thoughts I've got; Don't you believe that, if you live or not, 'Tis to your husband ev'ry whit the same? Had you gone first, would he have had the name Of following to the grave as you design? No, no, he'd to another course incline. Long years of comfort we may clearly crave; At twenty years it's surely wrong to brave Both death and famine in a gloomy tomb There's time enough to think of such a doom. At best, too soon we die; do let us wait; Here's nothing now at least to haste our fate. In truth, I wish to see a good old age: To bury charms like your's, would that be sage? Of what advantage, I should wish to know, To carry beauty to the shades below? Those heavenly features make my bosom sigh, To think from earthly praise they mean to fly.

THIS flatt'ry roused the beauteous widowed fair; The god of soft persuasion soon was there, And from his quiver in a moment drew Two arrows keen, which from his bow-string flew; With one he pierced the soldier to the heart, The lady slightly felt the other dart. Her youth and beauty, spite of tears, appeared, And men of taste such charms had long revered; A mind of tender feeling might, through life. Have loved her--even though she were a wife.

THE sentinel was smitten with her charms; Grief, pity, sighs, belong to Cupid's arms; When bosoms heave and eyes are drowned in tears, Then beauty oft with conq'ring grace appears.

BEHOLD our widow list'ning to his praise, Incipient fuel Cupid's flame to raise; Behold her, even glad to view the wight, Whose well tim'd flatt'ry filled her with delight

AT length, to eat he on the fair prevailed, And pleased her better than the dead bewailed. So well he managed, that she changed her plan, And, by degrees, to love him fondly 'gan. The son of Mars a darling husband grew, While yet her former dear was full in view.

MEANTIME the corpse, that long in chains had swung, By thieves was carried off from where it hung. The noise was heard, and thither ran our wight; But vain his efforts:--they were out of sight; Confused, distressed, he sought again the tomb, To tell his grief and settle, 'mid the gloom, How best to act, and where his head to hide, Since hang he must, the laws would now decide.

THE slave replied, your gibbet-thief, you say, Some lurking rogues this night have borne away: The law, it seems, will ne'er accord you grace The corpse that's here, let's set in t'other's place: The passers-by the change will never tell The lady gave consent, and all was well.

O FICKLE females, ever you're the same; A woman's a woman, both in mind and name Some fair we find, and some unlike the dove, But CONSTANCY'S the highest charm of love.

YE prudes, for ever doubt of full success; Don't boast at all: too much you may profess, How good soever your design may be, Not less is ours, you easily may see; The MATRON'S tale is not beyond belief: To entertain, our object is in chief.

THE widow's only errors were her cries; And mad design her life to sacrifice; For, merely setting husband-dead in place of one of this patibulary race, Was surely not a fault so very grave: Her lover's life was what she sought to save.

A LIVING drum-boy, truly be it said, Is better far, than any monarch dead.

BELPHEGOR ADDRESSED TO MISS DE CHAMMELAY

YOUR name with ev'ry pleasure here I place, The last effusions of my muse to grace. O charming Phillis! may the same extend Through time's dark night: our praise together blend; To this we surely may pretend to aim Your acting and my rhymes attention claim. Long, long in mem'ry's page your fame shall live; You, who such ecstacy so often give; O'er minds, o'er hearts triumphantly you reign: In Berenice, in Phaedra, and Chimene, Your tears and plaintive accents all engage: Beyond compare in proud Camilla's rage; Your voice and manner auditors delight; Who strong emotions can so well excite? No fine eulogium from my pen expect: With you each air and grace appear correct My first of Phillis's you ought to be; My sole affection had been placed on thee; Long since, had I presumed the truth to tell; But he who loves would fain be loved as well.

NO hope of gaining such a charming fair, Too soon, perhaps, I ceded to despair; Your friend, was all I ventured to be thought, Though in your net I more than half was caught. Most willingly your lover I'd have been; But time it is our story should be seen.

ONE, day, old Satan, sov'reign dread of hell; Reviewed his subjects, as our hist'ries tell; The diff'rent ranks, confounded as they stood, Kings, nobles, females, and plebeian blood, Such grief expressed, and made such horrid cries, As almost stunned, and filled him with surprise. The monarch, as he passed, desired to know The cause that sent each shade to realms below. Some said--my HUSBAND; others WIFE replied; The same was echoed loud from ev'ry side.

His majesty on this was heard to say: If truth these shadows to my ears convey, With ease our glory we may now augment: I'm fully bent to try th' experiment. With this design we must some demon send, Who wily art with prudence well can blend; And, not content with watching Hymen's flock, Must add his own experience to the stock.

THE sable senate instantly approved The proposition that the monarch moved; Belphegor was to execute the work; The proper talent in him seemed to lurk: All ears and eyes, a prying knave in grain In short, the very thing they wished to gain.

THAT he might all expense and cost defray, They gave him num'rous bills without delay, And credit too, in ev'ry place of note, With various things that might their plan promote. He was, besides, the human lot to fill, Of pleasure and of pain:--of good and ill; In fact, whate'er for mortals was designed, With his legation was to be combined. He might by industry and wily art, His own afflictions dissipate in part; But die he could not, nor his country see, Till he ten years complete on earth should be.

BEHOLD him trav'lling o'er th' extensive space; Between the realms of darkness and our race. To pass it, scarcely he a moment took; On Florence instantly he cast a look;-- Delighted with the beauty of the spot, He there resolved to fix his earthly lot, Regarding it as proper for his wiles, A city famed for wanton freaks and guiles. Belphegor soon a noble mansion hired, And furnished it with ev'ry thing desired; As signor Roderick he designed to pass; His equipage was large of ev'ry class; Expense anticipating day by day, What, in ten years, he had to throw away.

HIS noble entertainments raised surprise; Magnificence alone would not suffice; Delightful pleasures he dispensed around, And flattery abundantly was found, An art in which a demon should excel: No devil surely e'er was liked so well. His heart was soon the object of the FAIR; To please Belphegor was their constant care.

WHO lib'rally with presents smoothes the road, Will meet no obstacles to LOVE'S abode. In ev'ry situation they are sweet, I've often said, and now the same repeat: The primum mobile of human kind, Are gold and silver, through the world we find.

OUR envoy kept two books, in which he wrote The names of all the married pairs of note; But that assigned to couples satisfied, He scarcely for it could a name provide, Which made the demon almost blush to see, How few, alas! in wedlock's chains agree; While presently the other, which contained Th' unhappy--not a leaf in blank remained.

No other choice Belphegor now had got, Than--try himself the hymeneal knot. In Florence he beheld a certain fair, With charming face and smart engaging air; Of noble birth, but puffed with empty pride; Some marks of virtue, though not much beside. For Roderick was asked this lofty dame; The father said Honesta* (such her name) Had many eligible offers found; But, 'mong the num'rous band that hovered round, Perhaps his daughter, Rod'rick's suit might take, Though he should wish for time the choice to make. This approbation met, and Rod'rick 'gan To use his arts and execute his plan.

THE entertainments, balls, and serenades, Plays, concerts, presents, feasts, and masquerades, Much lessened what the demon with him brought; He nothing grudged:--whate'er was wished he bought. The dame believed high honour she bestowed, When she attention to his offer showed; And, after prayers, entreaties, and the rest, To be his wife she full assent expressed.

BUT first a pettifogger to him came, Of whom (aside) Belphegor made a game; What! said the demon, is a lady gained just like a house?--these scoundrels have obtained Such pow'r and sway, without them nothing's done; But hell will get them when their course is run. He reasoned properly; when faith's no more, True honesty is forced to leave the door; When men with confidence no longer view Their fellow-mortals,--happiness adieu! The very means we use t' escape the snare, Oft deeper plunge us in the gulph of care; Avoid attorneys, if you comfort crave Who knows a PETTIFOGGER, knows a KNAVE; Their contracts, filled with IFS and FORS, appear The gate through which STRIFE found admittance here. In vain we hope again the earth 'twill leave Still STRIFE remains, and we ourselves deceive: In spite of solemn forms and laws we see, That LOVE and HYMEN often disagree. The heart alone can tranquilize the mind; In mutual passion ev'ry bliss we find.

HOW diff'rent things in other states appear! With friends--'tis who can be the most sincere; With lovers--all is sweetness, balm of life; While all is IRKSOMENESS with man and wife. We daily see from DUTY springs disgust, And PLEASURE likes true LIBERTY to trust.

ARE happy marriages for ever flown? On full consideration I will own, That when each other's follies couples bear; They then deserve the name of HAPPY PAIR.

ENOUGH of this:--no sooner had our wight The belle possessed, and passed the month's delight; But he perceived what marriage must be here, With such a demon in our nether sphere. For ever jars and discords rang around; Of follies, ev'ry class our couple found; Honesta often times such noise would make, Her screams and cries the neighbours kept awake, Who, running thither, by the wife were told:-- Some paltry tradesman's daughter, coarse and bold, He should have had:--not one of rank like me; To treat me thus, what villain he must be! A wife so virtuous, could he e'er deserve! My scruples are too great, or I should swerve; Indeed, without dispute, 'twould serve him right:-- We are not sure she nothing did in spite; These prudes can make us credit what they please: Few ponder long when they can dupe with ease.

THIS wife and husband, as our hist'ries say, Each moment squabbled through the passing day; Their disagreements often would arise About a petticoat, cards, tables, pies, Gowns, chairs, dice, summer-houses, in a word, Things most ridiculous and quite absurd.

WELL might this spouse regret his Hell profound, When he considered what he'd met on ground. To make our demon's wretchedness complete, Honesta's relatives, from ev'ry street, He seemed to marry, since he daily fed The father, mother, sister (fit to wed,) And little brother, whom he sent to school; While MISS he portioned to a wealthy fool.

His utter ruin, howsoe'er, arose From his attorney-steward that he chose. What's that? you ask--a wily sneaking knave, Who, while his master spends, contrives to save; Till, in the end, grown rich, the lands he buys, Which his good lord is forced to sacrifice.

IF, in the course of time, the master take The place of steward, and his fortune make, 'Twould only to their proper rank restore, Those who become just what they were before.

POOR Rod'rick now no other hope had got, Than what the chance of traffick might allot; Illusion vain, or doubtful at the best:-- Though some grow rich, yet all are not so blessed. 'Twas said our husband never would succeed; And truly, such it seemed to be decreed. His agents (similar to those we see In modern days) were with his treasure free; His ships were wrecked; his commerce came to naught; Deceived by knaves, of whom he well had thought; Obliged to borrow money, which to pay, He was unable at th' appointed day, He fled, and with a farmer shelter took, Where he might hope the bailiffs would not look.

HE told to Matthew, (such the farmer's name,) His situation, character, and fame: By duns assailed, and harassed by a wife, Who proved the very torment of his life, He knew no place of safety to obtain, Like ent'ring other bodies, where 'twas plain, He might escape the catchpole's prowling eye, Honesta's wrath, and all her rage defy. From these he promised he would thrice retire; Whenever Matthew should the same desire: Thrice, but no more, t'oblige this worthy man, Who shelter gave when from the fiends he ran.

THE AMBASSADOR commenced his form to change:-- From human frame to frame he 'gan to range; But what became his own fantastick state, Our books are silent, nor the facts relate.

AN only daughter was the first he seized, Whose charms corporeal much our demon pleased; But Matthew, for a handsome sum of gold, Obliged him, at a word, to quit his hold. This passed at Naples--next to Rome he came, Where, with another fair, he did the same; But still the farmer banished him again, So well he could the devil's will restrain; Another weighty purse to him was paid Thrice Matthew drove him out from belle and maid.

THE king of Naples had a daughter fair, Admired, adored:--her parents' darling care; In wedlock oft by many princes sought; Within her form, the wily demon thought He might be sheltered from Honesta's rage; And none to drive him thence would dare engage.

NAUGHT else was talked of, in or out of town, But devils driven by the cunning clown; Large sums were offered, if, by any art, He'd make the demon from the fair depart.

AFFLICTED much was Matthew, now to lose The gold thus tendered, but he could not choose, For since Belphegor had obliged him thrice, He durst not hope the demon to entice; Poor man was he, a sinner, who, by chance, (He knew not how, it surely was romance,) Had some few devils, truly, driven out: Most worthy of contempt without a doubt. But all in vain:--the man they took by force; Proceed he must, or hanged he'd be of course.

THE demon was before our farmer placed; The sight was by the prince in person graced; The wond'rous contest numbers ran to see, And all the world spectators fain would be.

IF vanquished by the devil:--he must swing; If vanquisher:--'twould thousands to him bring: The gallows was, no doubt, a horrid view; Yet, at the purse, his glances often flew; The evil spirit laughed within his sleeve, To see the farmer tremble, fret, and grieve. He pleaded that the wight he'd thrice obeyed; The demon was by Matthew often prayed; But all in vain,--the more he terror showed, The more Belphegor ridicule bestowed.

AT length the clown was driven to declare, The fiend he was unable to ensnare; Away they Matthew to the gallows led; But as he went, it entered in his head, And, in a sort of whisper he averred (As was in fact the case) a drum he heard.

THE demon, with surprise, to Matthew cried; What noise is that? Honesta, he replied, Who you demands, and every where pursues, The spouse who treats her with such vile abuse.

THESE words were thunder to Belphegor's ears, Who instantly took flight, so great his fears; To hell's abyss he fled without delay, To tell adventures through the realms of day. Sire, said the demon, it is clearly true, Damnation does the marriage knot pursue. Your highness often hither sees arrive, Not squads, but regiments, who, when alive, By Hymen were indissolubly tied:-- In person I the fact have fully tried. Th' institution, perhaps, most just could be: Past ages far more happiness might see; But ev'ry thing, with time, corruption shows; No jewel in your crown more lustre throws.

BELPHEGOR'S tale by Satan was believed; Reward he got: the term, which-sorely grieved, Was now reduced; indeed, what had he done, That should prevent it?--If away he'd run, Who would not do the same who weds a shrew? Sure worse below the devil never knew! A brawling woman's tongue, what saint can bear? E'en Job, Honesta would have taught despair.

WHAT is the inference? you ask:--I'll tell;-- Live single, if you know you are well; But if old Hymen o'er your senses reign, Beware Honestas, or you'll rue the chain.

* By this character La Fontaine is supposed to have meant his own wife.

THE LITTLE BELL

HOW weak is man! how changeable his mind! His promises are naught, too oft we find; I vowed (I hope in tolerable verse,) Again no idle story to rehearse. And whence this promise?--Not two days ago; I'm quite confounded; better I should know: A rhymer hear then, who himself can boast, Quite steady for--a minute at the most. The pow'rs above could PRUDENCE ne'er design; For those who fondly court the SISTERS NINE. Some means to please they've got, you will confess; But none with certainty the charm possess. If, howsoever, I were doomed to find Such lines as fully would content the mind: Though I should fail in matter, still in art; I might contrive some pleasure to impart.

LET'S see what we are able to obtain:-- A bachelor resided in Touraine. A sprightly youth, who oft the maids beset, And liked to prattle to the girls he met, With sparkling eyes, white teeth, and easy air, Plain russet petticoat and flowing hair, Beside a rivulet, while Io round, With little bell that gave a tinkling sound, On herbs her palate gratified at will, And gazed and played, and fondly took her fill.