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THIS perfidy Joconde so much dismay’d; His spirits droop’d, his lilies ‘gan to fade; No more he look’d the charmer he had been; And when the court’s gay dames his face had seen; They cried, Is this the beauty, we were told, Would captivate each heart, or young or old? Why, he’s the jaundice; ev’ry view displays The mien of one,–just fasted forty days!

WITH secret pleasure, this, Astolphus learn’d; The Roman, for his brother, risks discern’d, Whose secret griefs were carefully conceal’d, (And these Joconde could never wish reveal’d;) Yet, spite of gloomy looks and hollow eyes, His graceful features pierc’d the wan disguise, Which fail’d to please, alone through want of life, Destroy’d by thinking on a guilty wife.

THE god of love, in pity to our swain, At last revok’d BLACK CARE’S corroding reign; For, doubtless, in his views he oft was cross’d, While such a lover to the world was lost.

THE hero of our tale, at length, we find Was well rewarded: LOVE again proved kind; For, musing as he walk’d alone one day, And pass’d a gall’ry, (held a secret way,) A voice in plaintive accents caught his ear, And from the neighb’ring closet came, ’twas clear: My dear Curtade, my only hope below, In vain I love;–you colder, colder grow; While round no fair can boast so fine a face, And numbers wish they might supply thy place, Whilst thou with some gay page prefer’st a bet, Or game of dice with some low, vulgar set, To meeting me alone; and when just now To thee I sent, with rage thou knit’st thy brow, And Dorimene, with ev’ry curse abus’d Then played again, since better that amus’d, And left me here, as if not worth a thought, Or thou didst scorn what I so fondly sought.

ASTONISHMENT, at once, our Roman seiz’d; But who’s the fair that thus her bosom eas’d? Or, who’s the gay Adonis, form’d to bless? You’d try a day, and not the secret guess, The queen’s the belle:–and, doubtless you will stare, The king’s own dwarf the idol of her care!

THE Roman saw a crevice in the wood, Through which he took a peep from where he stood; To Dorimene our lovers left the key, Which she had dropt when lately forc’d to flee, And this Joconde pick’d up, a lucky hit, Since he could use it when he best thought fit. It seems, said he, I’m not alone in name, And since a prince so handsome is the same, Although a valet has supplied my place, Yet see, the queen prefers a dwarf’s embrace.

THIS thought consol’d so well,–his youthful rays Returned, and e’en excelled his former days; And those who lately ridicul’d his charms, Now anxious seem’d to revel in his arms ‘Twas who could have him,–even prudes grew kind;– By many belles Astolphus was resign’d; Though still the king retain’d enough, ’twas seen;– But now let us resume the dwarf and queen.

OUR Roman, having satisfied his eyes, At length withdrew, confounded by surprise. Who follows courts, must oft with care conceal, And scarcely know what sight and ears reveal.

YET, by Joconde the king was lov’d so well, What now he’d seen he greatly wish’d to tell; But, since to princes full respect is due, And what concerns them, howsoever true, If thought displeasing, should not be dispos’d In terms direct, but obviously dispos’d, To catch the mind, Joconde at ease detail’d, From days of yore to those he now bewail’d, The names of emp’rors and of kings, whose brows, By wily wives, were crown’d with leafless boughs! And who, without repining, view’d their lot, Nor bad made worse, but thought things best forgot. E’en I, who now your majesty address, Continued he, am sorry to confess, The very day I left my native earth,

To wait upon a prince of royal birth, Was forced t’acknowledge cuckoldom among The gods who rule the matrimonial throng, And sacrifice thereto with aching heart Cornuted heads dire torments oft impart: