Chapter 8

THE metamorphosis our dame surprised; To give relief her tears but just sufficed; She scarcely spoke; the husband, days remained, Reflecting on the circumstance that pained. Himself a cuckold could he ever make, By mere design a liberty to take? But, horned or not? the question seemed to be, When Neria told him, if from doubts not free, Drink from the cup:--with so much art 'tis made, That, whose'er of cuckoldom 's afraid, Let him but put it to his eager lips If he's a cuckold, out the liquor slips; He naught can swallow; and the whole is thrown About his face or clothes, as oft 's been shown. But should, from out his brow, no horns yet pop-- He drinks the whole, nor spills a single drop.

THE doubt to solve, our husband took a sup, From this famed, formidably, magick cup; Nor did he any of the liquor waste:-- Well, I am safe, said he, my wife is chaste, Though on myself it wholly could depend; But from it what have I to apprehend? Make room, good folks, who leafless branches wear; If you desire those honours I should share. Thus Damon spoke, and to his precious wife A curious sermon preached, it seems, on life.

IF cuckoldom, my friends, such torments give; 'Tis better far 'mong savages to live!

LEST worse should happen, Damon settled spies, Who, o'er his lady watched with Argus' eyes. She turned coquette; restraints the FAIR awake, And only prompt more liberties to take. The silly husband secrets tried to know, And rather seemed to seek the wily foe, Which fear has often rendered fatal round, When otherwise the ill had ne'er been found.

FOUR times an hour his lips to sip he placed; And clearly, for a week was not disgraced. Howe'er, no further went his ease of mind; Oh, fatal science! fatally designed! With fury Damon threw the cup away, And, in his rage, himself inclined to slay.

HIS wife he straight shut up within a tower, Where, morn and night, he showed a husband's pow'r, Reproach bestowed: while she bewailed her lot, 'Twere better far, if he'd concealed the blot; For now, from mouth to mouth, and ear to ear, It echoed, and re-echoed far and near.

MEANWHILE Calista led a wretched life; No gold nor jewels Damon left his wife, Which made the jailer faithful, since 'twere vain To hope, unbribed, this Cerberus to gain.

AT length, the wife a lucky moment sought, When Damon seemed by soft caresses caught. Said she, I've guilty been, I freely own; But though my crime is great, I'm not alone; Alas! how few escape from like mishap; 'Mong Hymen's band so common is the trap; And though at you the immaculate may smile, What use to fret and all the sex revile?

WELL I'll console myself, and pardon you, Cried Damon, when sufficient I can view, Of ornamented foreheads, just like mine, To form among themselves a royal line; 'Tis only to employ the magick cup, From which I learned your secrets by a sup.

HIS plan to execute, the husband went, And ev'ry passenger was thither sent, Where Damon entertained, with sumptuous fare; And, at the end, proposed the magick snare: Said he, my wife played truant to my bed; Wish you to know if your's be e'er misled? 'Tis right how things go on at home to trace, And if upon the cup your lips you place, In case your wife be chaste, there'll naught go wrong; But, if to Vulcan's troop you should belong, And prove an antlered brother, you will spill The liquor ev'ry way, in spite of skill.

TO all the men, that Damon could collect, The cup he offered, and they tried th' effect; But few escaped, at which they laughed or cried, As feelings led, or cuckoldom they spied, Whose surly countenance the wags believed, In many houses near, might be perceived.

ALREADY Damon had sufficient found, To form a regiment and march around; At times they threatened governors to hang, Unless they would surrender to their gang; But few they wanted to complete the force, And soon a royal army made of course. From day to day their numbers would augment, Without the beat of drum, to great extent; Their rank was always fixed by length of horn: Foot soldiers those, whose branches short were borne; Dragoons, lieutenants, captains, some became, And even colonels, those of greater fame. The portion spilled by each from out the vase Was taken for the length, and fixed the place. A wight, who in an instant spilled the whole, Was made a gen'ral: not commander sole, For many followed of the same degree, And 'twas determined they should equals be.

THE rank and file now nearly found complete, And full enough an enemy to beat, Young Reynold, nephew of famed Charlemain, By chance came by: the spark they tried to gain, And, after treating him with sumptuous cheer, At length the magick cup mas made appear; But no way Reynold could be led to drink: My wife, cried he, I truly faithful think, And that's enough; the cup can nothing more; Should I, who sleep with two eyes, sleep with four? I feel at ease, thank heav'n, and have no dread, Then why to seek new cares should I be led? Perhaps, if I the cup should hold awry, The liquor out might on a sudden fly; I'm sometimes awkward, and in case the cup Should fancy me another, who would sup, The error, doubtless, might unpleasant be: To any thing but this I will agree, To give you pleasure, Damon, so adieu; Then Reynold from the antlered corps withdrew.

SAID Damon, gentlemen, 'tis pretty clear, So wise as Reynold, none of us appear; But let's console ourselves;--'tis very plain, The same are others:--to repine were vain.

AT length, such numbers on their rolls they bore; Calista liberty obtained once more, As promised formerly, and then her charms Again were taken to her spouse's arms.

LET Reynold's conduct, husbands, be your line; Who Damon's follows surely will repine. Perhaps the first should have been made the chief; Though, doubtless, that is matter of belief. No mortal can from danger feel secure; To be exempt from spilling, who is sure? Nor Roland, Reynold, nor famed Charlemain, But what had acted wrong to risk the stain.

THE FALCON

I RECOLLECT, that lately much I blamed, The sort of lover, avaricious named; And if in opposites we reason see, The liberal in paradise should be. The rule is just and, with the warmest zeal, To prove the fact I to the CHURCH appeal.

IN Florence once there dwelled a gentle youth, Who loved a certain beauteous belle with truth; O'er all his actions she had full controul;-- To please he would have sold his very soul. If she amusements wished, he'd lavish gold, Convinced in love or war you should be bold; The cash ne'er spare:--invincible its pow'rs, O'erturning walls or doors where'er it show'rs. The precious ore can every thing o'ercome; 'Twill silence barking curs: make servants dumb; And these can render eloquent at will:-- Excel e'en Tully in persuasive skill; In short he'd leave no quarter unsubdued, Unless therein the fair he could include.

SHE stood th' attack howe'er, and Frederick failed; His force was vain whenever he assailed; Without the least return his wealth he spent: Lands, houses, manors of immense extent, Were ev'ry now and then to auction brought; To gratify his love was all he thought.

THE rank of 'squire till lately he had claimed; Now scarcely was he even mister named; Of wealth by Cupid's stratagems bereft, A single farm was all the man had left; Friends very few, and such as God alone, Could tell if friendship they might not disown; The best were led their pity to express; 'Twas all he got: it could not well be less; To lend without security was wrong, And former favours they'd forgotten long; With all that Frederick could or say or do, His liberal conduct soon was lost to view.

WITH Clytia he no longer was received, Than while he was a man of wealth believed; Balls, concerts, op'ras, tournaments, and plays, Expensive dresses, all engaging ways, Were used to captivate this lady fair, While scarcely one around but in despair, Wife, widow, maid, his fond affection sought; To gain him, ev'ry wily art was brought; But all in vain:--by passion overpow'red, The belle, whose conduct others would have soured, To him appeared a goddess full of charms, Superior e'en to Helen, in his arms; From whence we may conclude, the beauteous dame Was always deaf to Fred'rick's ardent flame.

ENAMOURED of the belle, his lands he sold; The family estates were turned to gold; And many who the purchases had made, With pelf accumulated by their trade, Assumed the airs of men of noble birth:-- Fair subjects oft for ridicule and mirth!

RICH Clytia was, and her good spouse, 'tis said, Had lands which far and wide around were spread; No cash nor presents she would ever take, Yet suffered Frederick splendid treats to make, Without designing recompense to grant, Or being more than merely complaisant.

ALREADY, if my mem'ry do not fail, I've said, the youth's estates were put to sale, To pay for feasts the fair to entertain, And what he'd left was only one domain, A petty farm to which he now retired; Ashamed to show where once so much admired, And wretched too, a prey to lorn despair, Unable to obtain by splendid care, A beauty he'd pursued six years and more, And should for ever fervently adore. His want of merit was the cause he thought, That she could never to his wish be brought, While from him not a syllable was heard, Against the lovely belle his soul preferred.

'MID poverty oft Fred'rick sighed and wept; A toothless hag--his only servant kept; His kitchen cold; (where commonly he dwelled;) A pretty decent horse his stable held; A falcon too; and round about the grange, Our quondam 'squire repeatedly would range, Where oft, to melancholy, he was led, To sacrifice the game which near him fed; By Clytia's cruelty the gun was seized, And feathered victims black chagrin appeased.

'TWAS thus the lover whiled his hours away; His heart-felt torments nothing could allay; Blessed if with fortune love he'd also lost, Which constantly his earthly comforts crossed; But this lorn passion preyed upon his mind:-- Where'er he rode, BLACK CARE would mount behind.

DEATH took at length the husband of the fair; An only son appointed was his heir, A sickly child, whose life, 'twas pretty plain, Could scarcely last till spring returned again, Which made the husband, by his will, decree, His wife the infant's successor should be, In case the babe at early years should die, Who soon grew worse and raised the widow's sigh.

TOO much affection parents ne'er can show:-- A mother's feelings none but mothers know.

FAIR Clytia round her child with anxious care, Watched day and night, and no expense would spare; Inquired if this or that would please his taste; What he desired should be procured with haste; But nothing would he have that she proposed; An ardent wish howe'er the boy disclosed, For Fred'rick's Falcon, and most anxious grew:-- Tear followed tear, and nothing else would do. When once a child has got a whim in brain, No peace, no rest, till he the boon obtain.

WE should observe our belle, near Fred'rick's cot, A handsome house and many lands had got; 'Twas there the lovely babe had lately heard, Most wondrous stories of the bird averred; No partridge e'er escaped its rapid wing:-- On every morn down numbers it would bring; No money for it would its owner take; Much grieved was Clytia such request to make. The man, for her, of wealth had been bereft; How ask the only treasure he had left? And him if she were led to importune, Could she expect that he'd accord the boon? Alas! ungratefully she oft repaid, His liberal treats, his concerts, serenade, And haughtily behaved from first to last: How be so bold, (reflecting on the past,) To see the man that she so ill had used? And ask a favour?--could she be excused? But then her child!--perhaps his life 'twould save; Naught would he take; the falcon she must crave.

THAT her sweet babe might be induced to eat, So meant the bird of Fred'rick to intreat; Her boy was heard continually to cry, Unless he had the falcon, he should die.

THESE reasons strongly with the mother weighed; Her visit to the 'squire was not delayed; With fond affection for her darling heir, One morn, alone she sought the lorn repair.

TO Fred'rick's eye an angel she appeared; But shame he felt, that she, his soul revered, Should find him poor:--no servants to attend, Nor means to give a dinner to a friend. The poverty in which he now was viewed, Distressed his mind and all his griefs renewed. Why come? said he; what led you thus to trace, An humble slave of your celestial face? A villager, a wretched being here; Too great the honour doubtless must appear; 'Twas somewhere else you surely meant to go? The lady in a moment answered no. Cried he, I've neither cook nor kettle left; Then how can I receive you, thus bereft? But you have bread, said Clytia:--that will do;-- The lover quickly to the poultry flew, In search of eggs; some bacon too he found; But nothing else, except the hawk renowned, Which caught his eye, and instantly was seized, Slain, plucked, and made a fricassee that pleased.

MEANWHILE the house-keeper for linen sought; Knives, forks, plates, spoons, cups, glass and chairs she brought; The fricassee was served, the dame partook, And on the dish with pleasure seemed to look.

THE dinner o'er, the widow then resolved, To ask the boon which in her mind resolved. She thus begun:--good sir, you'll think me mad, To come and to your breast fresh trouble add; I've much to ask, and you will feel surprise, That one, for whom your love could ne'er suffice, Should now request your celebrated bird; Can I expect the grant?--the thought 's absurd But pardon pray a mother's anxious fear; 'Tis for my child:--his life to me is dear. The falcon solely can the infant save; Yet since to you I nothing ever gave, For all your kindness oft on me bestowed; Your fortune wasted:--e'en your nice abode, Alas! disposed of, large supplies to raise, To entertain and please in various ways: I cannot hope this falcon to obtain; For sure I am the expectation's vane; No, rather perish child and mother too; Than such uneasiness should you pursue: Allow howe'er this parent, I beseech, Who loves her offspring 'yond the pow'r of speech, Or language to express, her only boy, Sole hope, sole comfort, all her earthly joy, True mother like, to seek her child's relief, And in your breast deposit now her grief. Affection's pow'r none better know than you,-- How few to love were ever half so true! From such a bosom I may pardon crave Soft pity's ever with the good and brave!

ALAS! the wretched lover straight replied, The bird was all I could for you provide; 'Twas served for dinner.--Dead?--exclaimed the dame, While trembling terror overspread her frame. No jest, said he, and from the soul I wish, My heart, instead of that, had been the dish; But doomed alas! am I by fate, 'tis clear, To find no grace with her my soul holds dear: I'd nothing left; and when I saw the bird, To kill it instantly the thought occurred; Those naught we grudge nor spare to entertain, Who o'er our feeling bosoms sov'reign reign: All I can do is speedily to get, Another falcon: easily they're met; And by to-morrow I'll the bird procure. No, Fred'rick, she replied, I now conjure You'll think no more about it; what you've done Is all that fondness could have shown a son; And whether fate has doomed the child to die, Or with my prayers the pow'rs above comply; For you my gratitude will never end-- Pray let us hope to see you as a friend.

THEN Clytia took her leave, and gave her hand; A proof his love no more she would withstand. He kissed and bathed her fingers with his tears; The second day grim death confirmed their fears:

THE mourning lasted long and mother's grief; But days and months at length bestowed relief; No wretchedness so great, we may depend, But what, to time's all-conqu'ring sithe will bend:

TWO famed physicians managed with such care; That they recovered her from wild despair, And tears gave place to cheerfulness and joy:-- The one was TIME the other Venus' Boy. Her hand fair Clytia on the youth bestowed, As much from love as what to him she owed.

LET not this instance howsoe'r mislead; 'Twere wrong with hope our fond desires to feed, And waste our substance thus:--not all the FAIR, Possess of gratitude a decent share. With this exception they appear divine; In lovely WOMAN angel-charms combine; The whole indeed I do not here include; Alas; too many act the jilt and prude. When kind, they're ev'ry blessing found below: When otherwise a curse we often know.

THE LITTLE DOG

THE key, which opes the chest of hoarded gold. Unlocks the heart that favours would withhold. To this the god of love has oft recourse, When arrows fail to reach the secret source, And I'll maintain he's right, for, 'mong mankind, Nice presents ev'ry where we pleasing find; Kings, princes, potentates, receive the same, And when a lady thinks she's not to blame, To do what custom tolerates around; When Venus' acts are only Themis' found, I'll nothing 'gainst her say; more faults than one, Besides the present, have their course begun.

A MANTUAN judge espoused a beauteous fair: Her name was Argia:--Anselm was her care, An aged dotard, trembling with alarms, While she was young, and blessed with seraph charms. But, not content with such a pleasing prize, His jealousy appeared without disguise, Which greater admiration round her drew, Who doubtless merited, in ev'ry view, Attention from the first in rank or place So elegant her form, so fine her face.

'TWOULD endless prove, and nothing would avail, Each lover's pain minutely to detail: Their arts and wiles; enough 'twill be no doubt, To say the lady's heart was found so stout, She let them sigh their precious hours away, And scarcely seemed emotion to betray.

WHILE at the judge's, Cupid was employed, Some weighty things the Mantuan state annoyed, Of such importance, that the rulers meant, An embassy should to the Pope be sent. As Anselm was a judge of high degree, No one so well embassador could be.

'TWAS with reluctance he agreed to go, And be at Rome their mighty Plenipo'; The business would be long, and he must dwell Six months or more abroad, he could not tell. Though great the honour, he should leave his dove, Which would be painful to connubial love. Long embassies and journeys far from home Oft cuckoldom around induce to roam.

THE husband, full of fears about his wife; Exclaimed--my ever--darling, precious life, I must away; adieu, be faithful pray, To one whose heart from you can never stray But swear to me, my duck, (for, truth to tell, I've reason to be jealous of my belle,) Now swear these sparks, whose ardour I perceive, Have sighed without success, and I'll believe. But still your honour better to secure, From slander's tongue, and virtue to ensure, I'd have you to our country-house repair; The city quit:--these sly gallants beware; Their presents too, accurst invention found, With danger fraught, and ever much renowned; For always in the world, where lovers move, These gifts the parent of assentment prove. 'Gainst those declare at once; nor lend an ear To flattery, their cunning sister-peer. If they approach, shut straight both ears and eyes; For nothing you shall want that wealth supplies; My store you may command; the key behold, Where I've deposited my notes and gold. Receive my rents; expend whate'er you please; I'll look for no accounts; live quite at ease; I shall be satisfied with what you do, If naught therein to raise a blush I view; You've full permission to amuse your mind; Your love, howe'er, for me alone's designed; That, recollect, must be for my return, For which our bosoms will with ardour burn.