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(Tales and Novels, 1746)
A GASCON (being heard one day to swear, | |
| That he’d possess’d a certain lovely fair,) | |
| Was played a wily trick, and nicely served; | |
| ’Twas clear, from truth he shamefully had swerved. | |
| But those who scandal propagate below, | 5 |
| Are prophets thought, and ev’ry action know; | |
| While good, if spoken, scarcely is believed, | |
| And must be viewed, or not for truth received. | |
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| The dame, indeed, the Gascon only jeered, | |
| And e’er denied herself when he appeared; | 10 |
| But when she met the wight, who sought to shine, | |
| And called her angel, beauteous and divine, | |
| She fled and hastened to a female friend, | |
| Where she could laugh, and at her ease unbend. | |
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| Near Phillis, (our fair fugitive) their dwelled | 15 |
| One Eurilas, his nearest neighbour held; | |
| His wife was Cloris;—’twas with her our dove | |
| Took shelter from the Gascon’s forward love, | |
| Whose name was Dorilas;—and Damon young, | |
| (The Gascon’s friend) on whom gay Cloris hung. | 20 |
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| Sweet Phillis, by her manner, you might see, | |
| From sly amours and dark intrigues was free; | |
| The value to possess her no one knew, | |
| Though all admired the lovely belle at view. | |
| Just twenty years she counted at the time, | 25 |
| And now a widow was, though in her prime, | |
| (Her spouse, an aged dotard, worth a plum:— | |
| Of those whose loss to mourn no tears e’er come.) | |
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| Our seraph fair, such loveliness possessed, | |
| In num’rous ways a Gascon could have blessed; | 30 |
| Above, below, appeared angelic charms; | |
| ’Twas Paradise, ’twas Heav’n, within her arms! | |
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| The Gascon was—a Gascon;—would you more? | |
| Who knows one Gascon knows at least a score. | |
| I need not say what solemn vows he made; | 35 |
| Alike with Normans Gascons are portrayed; | |
| Their oaths, indeed, won’t pass for Gospel truth; | |
| But we believe that Dorilas (the youth) | |
| Loved Phillis to his soul, our lady fair, | |
| Yet he would fain be thought successful there. | 40 |
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| One day, said Phillis, with unusual glee, | |
| Pretending with the Gascon to be free:— | |
| A favour do me:—nothing very great;— | |
| Assist to dupe one jealous of his mate; | |
| You’ll find it very easy to be done, | 45 |
| And doubtless ’twill produce a deal of fun. | |
| ’Tis our request (the plot you’ll say is deep,) | |
| That you this night with Cloris’s husband sleep | |
| Some disagreement with her gay gallant | |
| Requires, that she a night at least should grant, | 50 |
| To settle diff’rences; now we desire, | |
| That you’ll to bed with Eurilas retire, | |
| There’s not a doubt he’ll think his Cloris near; | |
| He never touches her:—so nothing fear; | |
| For whether jealousy, or other pains, | 55 |
| He constantly from intercourse abstains, | |
| Snores through the night, and if a cap he sees, | |
| Believes his wife in bed, and feels at ease. | |
| We’ll properly equip you as a belle, | |
| And I will certainly reward you well. | 60 |
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| To gain but Phillis’s smiles, the Gascon said, | |
| He’d with the very devil go to bed. | |
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| The night arrived, our wight the chamber traced; | |
| The lights extinguished; Eurilas, too, placed; | |
| The Gascon ’gan to tremble in a trice, | 65 |
| And soon with terror grew as cold as ice; | |
| Durst neither spit nor cough; still less encroach; | |
| And seemed to shrink, least t’other should approach; | |
| Crept near the edge; would scarcely room afford, | |
| And could have passed the scabbard of a sword. | 70 |
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| Oft in the night his bed-fellow turned round; | |
| At length a finger on his nose he found, | |
| Which Dorilas exceedingly distressed; | |
| But more inquietude was in his breast, | |
| For fear the husband amorous should grow, | 75 |
| From which incalculable ills might flow. | |
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| Our Gascon ev’ry minute knew alarm; | |
| ’Twas now a leg stretched out, and then an arm; | |
| He even thought he felt the husband’s beard; | |
| But presently arrived what more he feared. | 80 |
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| A bell, conveniently, was near the bed, | |
| Which Eurilas to ring was often led; | |
| At this the Gascon swooned, so great was his fear, | |
| And swore, forever he’d renounce his dear. | |
| But no one coming, Eurilas, once more, | 85 |
| Resumed his place, and ’gan again to snore. | |
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| At length, before the sun his head had reared, | |
| The door was opened, and a torch appeared. | |
| Misfortune then he fancied full in sight; | |
| More pleased he’d been to rise without a light, | 90 |
| And clearly thought, ’twas over with him now; | |
| The flame approached;—the drops ran o’er his brow; | |
| With terror he for pardon humbly prayed:— | |
| You have it, cried a fair: be not dismayed; | |
| ’Twas Phillis spoke, who Eurilas’s place | 95 |
| Had filled, throughout the night, with wily grace, | |
| And now to Damon and his Cloris flew, | |
| With ridicule the Gascon to pursue; | |
| Recounted all the terrors and affright, | |
| Which Dorilas had felt throughout the night. | 100 |
| To mortify still more the silly swain, | |
| And fill his soul with ev’ry poignant pain, | |
| She gave a glimpse of beauties to his view, | |
| And from his presence instantly withdrew. | |
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