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Joconde
by [?]


IN Lombardy’s fair land, in days of yore, Once dwelt a prince, of youthful charms, a store; Each FAIR, with anxious look, his favours sought, And ev’ry heart within his net was caught. Quite proud of beauteous form and smart address, In which the world was led to acquiesce, He cried one day, while ALL attention paid, I’ll bet a million, Nature never made Beneath the sun, another man like me, Whose symmetry with mine can well agree. If such exist, and here will come, I swear I’ll show him ev’ry lib’ral princely care.

A noble Roman, who the challenge heard, This answer gave the king his soul preferr’d –Great prince, if you would see a handsome man, To have my brother here should be your plan; A frame more perfect Nature never gave; But this to prove, your courtly dames I crave; May judge the fact, when I’m convinc’d they’ll find: Like you, the youth will please all womankind; And since so many sweets at once may cloy, ‘Twere well to have a partner in your joy.

THE king, surpris’d, expressed a wish to view This brother, form’d by lines so very true; We’ll see, said he, if here his charms divine Attract the heart of ev’ry nymph, like mine; And should success attend our am’rous lord, To you, my friend, full credit we’ll accord.

AWAY the Roman flew, Joconde to get, (So nam’d was he in whom these features met;) ‘Midst woods and lawns, retir’d from city strife, And lately wedded to a beauteous wife; If bless’d, I know not; but with such a fair, On him must rest the folly to despair.

THE Roman courtier came, his business told The brilliant offers from the monarch bold; His mission had success, but still the youth Distraction felt, which ‘gan to shake his truth; A pow’rful monarch’s favour there he view’d; A partner here, with melting tears bedew’d; And while he wavered on the painful choice, She thus address’d her spouse with plaintive voice:

CAN you, Joconde, so truly cruel prove, To quit my fervent love in courts to move? The promises of kings are airy dreams, And scarcely last beyond the day’s extremes By watchful, anxious care alone retain’d, And lost, through mere caprice, as soon as gain’d. If weary of my charms, alas! you feel, Still think, my love, what joys these woods conceal; Here dwell around tranquillity and ease; The streams’ soft murmurs, and the balmy breeze, Invite to sleep; these vales where breathe the doves, All, all, my dear Joconde, renew our loves; You laugh!–Ah! cruel, go, expose thy charms, Grim death will quickly spare me these alarms!

JOCONDE’S reply our records ne’er relate, Nor what he did, nor how he left his mate; And since contemp’raries decline the task; ‘Twere folly, such details of me to ask. We’re told, howe’er, when ready to depart, With flowing tears she press’d him to her heart; And on his arm a brilliant bracelet plac’d, With hair around her picture nicely trac’d; This guard in full remembrance of my love, She cried;–then clasped her hands to pow’rs above.

TO see such dire distress, and poignant grief, Might lead to think, soon death would bring relief; But I, who know full well the female mind, At best oft doubt affliction of the kind.

JOCONDE set out at length; but that same morn; As on he mov’d, his soul with anguish torn, He found the picture he had quite forgot, Then turn’d his steed, and back began to trot. While musing what excuse to make his mate, At home he soon arriv’d, and op’d the gate; Alighted unobserv’d, ran up the stairs; And ent’ring to the lady unawares, He found this darling rib, so full of charms; Intwin’d within a valet’s brawny arms!

‘MIDST first emotions of the husband’s ire; To stab them while asleep he felt desire; Howe’er, he nothing did; the courteous wight; In this dilemma, clearly acted right; The less of such misfortunes said is best; ‘Twere well the soul of feeling to divest; Their lives, through pity, or prudential care; With much reluctance, he was led to spare; Asleep he left the pair, for if awake, In honour, he a diff’rent step would take.– Had any smart gallant supplied my place, Said he, I might put up with this disgrace; But naught consoles the thought of such a beast; Dan Cupid wantons, or is blind at least; A bet, or some such whim, induc’d the god, To give his sanction to amours so odd.