Thesoft amour extended through the night,
          The girl was pleas’d, and all proceeded right;
          The foll’wing night, the next, ’twas still the same;
          Young Clod at length her coldness ’gan to blame;
          And as he felt suspicious of the act,
          He watch’d her steps and verified the fact: 
          A quarrel instantly between them rose;
          Howe’er the fair, his anger to compose,
          And favour not to lose, on honour vow’d,
          That when the sparks were gone, and time allow’d,
          She would oblige his craving, fierce desire;—­
          To which the village lad replied with ire:—­
          Pray what care I for any tavern guest,
          Of either sex; to you I now protest,
          If I be not indulg’d this very night,
          I’ll publish your amours in mere despite.

          Howcan we manage it, replied the belle,
          I’m quite distressed—­indeed the truth to tell,
          I’ve promis’d them this night to come again,
          And if I fail, no doubt can then remain,
          But I shall lose the ring, their pledg’d reward,
          Which would, you know for me, be very hard.

          Toyou I wish the ring, replied young Clod,
          But do they sleep in bed, or only nod? 
          Tell me, pray; oh, said she, they sleep most sound;
          But then between them plac’d shall I be found,
          And while the one amidst Love’s frolicks sports,
          The other quiet lies, or Morpheus courts. 
          On hearing this the rustick lad proposed,
          To visit her when others’ eyes were closed. 
          Oh! never risk it, quickly she replied;
          ’Twere folly to attempt it by their side. 
          He answer’d, never fear, but only leave
          The door ajar, and me they’ll not perceive.

          Thedoor she left exactly as he said;
          The spark arriv’d, and then approach’d the bed,
          (’Twas near the foot,) then ’tween the sheets he slid,
          But God knows how he lay, or what he did. 
          Astolphus and Joconde ne’er smelt a rat,
          Nor ever dreamt of what their girl was at,
          At length when each had turn’d and op’d his eyes,
          Continual movement fill’d him with surprise. 
          The monarch softly said:—­why how is this? 
          My friend has eaten something, for in bliss,
          He revels on, and truly much I fear,
          His health will show, it may be bought too dear.

          Thisvery sentiment Joconde bethought;
          But Clod a breathing moment having caught,
          Resum’d his fun, and that so oft would seek: 
          He gratified his wishes for a week;
          Then watching carefully, he found once more;