Part 24

HAD Fate decreed our YOUTH, at early morn, To view the angel features you adorn, The captivating pow'rs AURORA bless, Or airy SPRING bedecked in beauteous dress, And all the azure canopy on high Had vanished like a dream, once you were nigh. And when his eyes at length your charms beheld, His glowing breast with softest passion swelled; Superior lustre beamed at ev'ry view; No pleasures pleased: his soul was fixed on you. Crowns, jewels, palaces, appeared as naught. 'Twas solely beauteous woman now he sought.

A WOOD, from earliest years, his home had been, And birds the only company he'd seen, Whose notes harmonious often lulled his care, Beguiled his hours, and saved him from despair; Delightful sounds! from nightingale and dove Unknown their tongue, yet indicant of love.

THIS savage, solitary, rustick school, The father chose his infancy to rule. The mother's recent death induced the sire, To place the son where only beasts retire; And long the forest habitants alone Were all his youthful sight had ever known.

TWO reasons, good or bad, the father led To fly the world:--all intercourse to dread Since fate had torn his lovely spouse from hence; Misanthropy and fear o'ercame each sense; Of the world grown tired, he hated all around:-- Too oft in solitude is sorrow found. His partner's death produced distaste of life, And made him fear to seek another wife. A hermit's gloomy, mossy cell he took, And wished his child might thither solely look.

AMONG the poor his little wealth he threw, And with his infant son alone withdrew; The forest's dreary wilds concealed his cell; There Philip (such his name) resolved to dwell.

BY holy motives led, and not chagrin, The hermit never spoke of what he'd seen; But, from the youth's discernment, strove to hide, Whate'er regarded love, and much beside, The softer sex, with all their magick charms, That fill the feeling bosom with alarms. As years advanced, the boy with care he taught; What suited best his age before him brought; At five he showed him animals and flow'rs, The birds of air, the beasts, their sev'ral pow'rs; And now and then of hell he gave a hint, Old Satan's wrath, and what might awe imprint, How formed, and doomed to infamy below; In childhood FEAR 's the lesson first we know!

THE years had passed away, when Philip tried, In matters more profound his son to guide; He spoke of Paradise and Heav'n above; But not a word of woman,--nor of LOVE. Fifteen arrived, the sire with anxious care, Of NATURE'S works declaimed,--but not the FAIR: An age, when those, for solitude designed, Should be to scenes of seriousness confined, Nor joys of youth, nor soft ideas praised The flame soon spreads when Cupid's torch is raised.

AT length, when twenty summers time had run, The father to the city brought his son; With years weighed down, the hermit scarcely knew His daily course of duty to pursue; And when Death's venomed shaft should on him fall; On whom could then his boy for succour call? How life support, unknowing and unknown? Wolves, foxes, bears, ne'er charity have shown; And all the sire could give his darling care, A staff and wallet, he was well aware Fine patrimony, truly, for a child! To which his mind was no way reconciled. Bread few, 'twas clear, the hermit would deny, And rich he might have been you may rely; When he drew near, the children quickly cried Here's father Philip--haste, the alms provide; And many pious men his friends were found, But not one female devotee around: None would he hear; the FAIR he always fled Their smiles and wiles the friar kept in dread.

OUR hermit, when he thought his darling youth; Well fixed in duty and religious truth, Conveyed him 'mong his pious friends, to learn How food to beg, and other ways discern. In tears he viewed his son the forest quit, And fain would have him for the world unfit.

THE city's palaces and lofty spires, Our rustick's bosom filled with new desires. The prince's residence great splendour showed, And lively pleasure on the youth bestowed. What's here? said he; The court, his friends replied:-- What there?--The mansions where the great reside:-- And these?--Fine statues, noble works of art: All gave delight and gratitude his heart. But when the beauteous FAIR first caught his view, To ev'ry other sight he bade adieu; The palace, court, or mansions he admired, No longer proved the objects he desired; Another cause of admiration rose, His breast pervaded, and disturbed repose. What's this, he cried, so elegantly neat? O tell me, father; make my joy complete!

WHAT gave the son such exquisite delight, The parent filled with agonizing fright. To answer, howsoe'er he'd no excuse, So told the youth--a bird they call a goose.

O BEAUTEOUS bird, exclaimed th' enraptured boy, Sing, sound thy voice, 'twill fill my soul with joy; To thee I'd anxiously be better known; O father, let me have one for my own! A thousand times I fondly ask the boon; Let's take it to the woods: 'tis not too soon; Young as it is, I'll feed it morn and night, And always make it my supreme delight.

RICHARD MINUTOLO

IN ev'ry age, at Naples, we are told, Intrigue and gallantry reign uncontrolled; With beauteous objects in abundance blessed. No country round so many has possessed; Such fascinating charms the FAIR disclose, That irresistibly soft passion flows.

'MONG these a belle, enchanting to behold, Was loved by one, of birth and store of gold; Minutolo (and Richard) was his name, In Cupid's train a youth of brilliant fame: 'Tween Rome and Paris none was more gallant, And num'rous hearts were for him known to pant.

CATELLA (thus was called our lady fair,) So long, howe'er, resisted Richard's snare, That prayers, and vows, and promises were vain; A favour Minutolo could not gain. At length, our hero weary, coldness showed, And dropt attendance, since no kindness flowed; Pretended to be cured:--another sought, And feigned her charms his tender heart had caught: Catella laughed, but jealousy was nigh; 'Twas for her friend that now He heaved the sigh.

THESE dames together met, and Richard too, The gay gallant a glowing picture drew, Of certain husbands, lovers, prudes, and wives; Who led in secret most lascivious lives. Though none he named, Catella was amazed; His hints suspicions of her husband raised; And such her agitation and affright, That, anxious to procure more certain light, In haste she took Minutolo aside, And begged the names he would not from her hide, With all particulars, from first to last:-- Her ardent wish to know whate'er had passed.

SO long your reign, said Richard, o'er my mind, Deny I could not, howsoe'er inclined; With Mrs. Simon often is your spouse; Her character no doubt your spleen will rouse; I've no design, observe to give offence, But, when I see your int'rest in suspense, I cannot silent keep; though, were I still A slave, devoted wholly to your will, As late I moved, I would not drop a word Mistrust of lovers may not be absurd; Besides, you'd fancy other motives led To tell you of your husband what was said; But heav'n be praised, of you I nothing want; My object's plain--no more the fond gallant.

I'VE lately certain information had, Your spouse (I scarcely thought the man so bad,) Has with the lady an appointment made; At Jack's nice bagnio he will meet the jade.

NOW clearly Jack's not rich, and there's no doubt; A hundred ducats give, and--ALL will out; Let him but have a handsome sum in view, And any thing you wish, be sure he'll do; You then can manage ev'ry way so well, That, at the place assigned to meet his belle, You'll take this truant husband by surprise;-- Permit me in this nice affair to advise.

THE lady has agreed, you will remark, That in a room where ev'ry part is dark, (Perhaps to 'scape the keeper's prying sight, Or shame directs exclusion of the light,) She will receive your gay inconstant spouse; Now, take her place; the case deceit allows; Make Jack your friend; nor haggle at the price; A hundred ducats give, is my advice; He'll place you in the room where darkness reigns; Think not too fast, nor suffer heavy chains; Do what you wish, and utter not a word; To speak, assuredly would be absurd; 'Twould spoil the whole; destroy the project quite; Attend, and see if all things be not right.

THE project pleased Catella to the soul; Her wrath, no longer able to controul, She Richard stopt; enough, enough, she cried; I fully understand:--leave me to guide; I'll play the fellow and his wanton lass A pretty trick-shall all their art surpass, Unless the string gives way and spoils my scheme; What, take me for a nincompoop?--they dream.

THIS said, she sought excuse to get away, And went in quest of Jack without delay. The keeper, howsoe'er, a hint had got; Minutolo had schooled him for the plot; Oft cash does wonders, and, if such the case In France or Britain, when conferred a grace, The bribe is taken, and the truth abused, In Italy it will not be refused; There this sole quiver Cupid useful finds,--

A purse well stored--all binds, gunlocks, or blinds: Jack took the pelf from Richard and the dame; Had Satan offered--'twould have been the same. In short, Minutolo had full success, All came about, and marked the spark's address.

THE lady had at first some warm dispute To many questions Jack was even mute; But when he saw the golden charms unmasked, Far more he promised than Catella asked.

THE time of rendezvous arrived, our spark To Jack's repaired, and found the room quite dark; So well arranged, no crevice could he find, Through which the light might hurt what he designed.

NOT long he waited, ere our jealous dame, Who longed to find her faithless husband, came, Most thoroughly prepared his ears to greet. Jack brought the couple presently to meet. The lady found, howe'er, not what she sought: No guilty spouse, nor Mrs. Simon caught; But wily Richard, who, without alarms, In silence took Catella in his arms. What further passed between the easy pair, Think what you will, I mean not to declare; The lover certainly received delight The lady showed no terror nor affright; On neither side a syllable was dropt With care Minutolo his laughter stopt; Though difficult, our spark succeeded well; No words of mine can Richard's pleasure tell. His fav'rite beauteous belle he now possessed, And triumphed where so oft he'd been repressed, Yet fondly hoped her pardon he should get, Since they together had so gaily met.

AT length, the fair could no longer contain: Vile wretch, she cried, I've borne too much 'tis plain; I'm not the fav'rite whom thou had'st in view: To tear thy eyes out justly were thy due, 'Tis this, indeed, that makes thee silent keep, Each morn feign sickness, and pretend to sleep, Thyself reserving doubtless for amours:-- Speak, villain! say, of charms have I less stores? Or what has Mrs. Simon more than I? A wanton wench, in tricks so wondrous sly! Where my love less? though truly now I hate; Would that I'd seen thee hung, thou wretch ingrate!