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Table of Contents | |
Section | Page |
Start of eBook | 1 |
HANS CARVEL’S RING | 1 |
THE CONVENT GARDENER OF LAMPORECHIO | 5 |
Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) | 10 |
(Three Pages) | 11 |
Hans Carvel took, when weak and late in life;
A girl, with youth and beauteous charms to wife;
And with her, num’rous troubles, cares and fears;
For, scarcely one without the rest appears.
Bab (such her name, and daughter of a knight)
Was airy, buxom: formed for am’rous fight.
Hans, holding jeers and cuckoldom in dread,
Would have his precious rib with caution tread,
And nothing but the Bible e’er peruse;
All other books he daily would abuse;
Blamed secret visits; frowned at loose attire;
And censured ev’ry thing gallants admire.
The dame, howe’er, was deaf to all he said;
No preaching pleased but what to pleasure led,
Which made the aged husband hold his tongue.
And wish for death, since all round went wrong.
Some easy moments he perhaps might get;
A full detail in hist’ry’s page is met.
One night, when company he’d had to dine,
And pretty well was fill’d with gen’rous wine,
Hans dreamed, as near his wife he snoring lay,
The devil came his compliments to pay,
And having on his finger put a ring,
Said he, friend Hans, I know thou feel’st a sting;
Thy trouble ’s great: I pity much thy case;
Let but this ring, howe’er, thy finger grace,
And while ’tis there I’ll answer with my head,
that ne’er shall happen which is now thy dread:
Hans, quite delighted, forced his finger through;
You drunken beast, cried Bab, what would you do?
To love’s devoirs quite lost, you take no care,
And now have thrust your finger God knows where!
THE HERMIT
When Venus and Hypocrisy combine,
Oft pranks are played that show a deep design;
Men are but men, and friars full as weak:
I’m not by Envy moved these truths to speak.
Have you a sister, daughter, pretty wife?
Beware the monks as you would guard your life;
If in their snares a simple belle be caught:
The trap succeeds: to ruin she is brought.
To show that monks are knaves in Virtue’s mask;
Pray read my tale:—no other proof I ask.
A
hermit, full of youth, was thought around,
A
saint, and worthy of the legend found.
The
holy man a knotted cincture wore;
But,
’neath his garb:—heart-rotten to the
core.
A
chaplet from his twisted girdle hung,
Of
size extreme, and regularly strung,
On
t’other side was worn a little bell;
The
hypocrite in all, he acted well;
And
if a female near his cell appeared,
He’d
keep within as if the sex he feared,
With
downcast eyes and looks of woe complete,
You’d
ne’er suppose that butter he could eat.
Notfar from where the hermit’s cell was placed,
Within
a village dwelled a widow chaste;
Her
residence was at the further end
And
all her store—a daughter as a friend,
Who
candour, youth, and charms supreme possessed;
And
still a virgin lived, howe’er distressed.
Though
if the real truth perhaps we name,
’Twas
more simplicity than virtuous aim;
Not
much of industry, but honest heart;
No
wealth, nor lovers, who might hope impart.
In
Adam’s days, when all with clothes were born,
She
doubtless might like finery have worn;
A
house was furnished then without expense;
For
sheets or mattresses you’d no pretence;
Not
e’en a bed was necessary thought
No
blankets, pillowbiers, nor quilts were bought.
Those
times are o’er; then Hymen came alone;
But
now a lawyer in his train is shown.
Ouranchorite, in begging through the place;
This
girl beheld,—but not with eyes of grace.
Said
he, she’ll do, and, if thou manag’st right,
Lucius,
at times, with her to pass the night.
No
time he lost, his wishes to secure:
The
means, we may suppose, not over pure.
Quitenear the open fields they lived, I’ve said;
An
humble, boarded cottage o’er their head.
One
charming night—no, I mistake ’tis
plain,
Our
hermit, favoured much by wind and rain,
Pierced
in the boarding, where by time ’twas worn;
A
hole through which he introduced a horn;
And
loudly bawled:—attend to what I say,
Ye
women, my commands at once obey.
This
voice spread terror through the little cot;
Both
hid their heads and trembled for their lot;
But
still our monk his horn would sound aloud
Awake!
cried he; your favour God has vowed;
My
faithful servant, Lucius, haste to seek;
At
early dawn go find this hermit meek
To
no one say a word: ’tis Heav’n ordains;
Fear
nothing, Lucius ever blessed remains;
I’ll
show the way myself: your daughter place,
Good
widow, with this holy man of grace;
And
from their intercourse a pope shall spring,
Who
back to virtue christendom will bring.
Hespoke to them so very loud and clear,
They
heard, though ’neath the clothes half dead with
fear.
Some
time howe’er the females lay in dread;
At
length the daughter ventured out her head,
And,
pulling hastily her parent’s arm,
Said
she, dear mother, (not suspecting harm)
Good
Heav’ns! must I obey and thither go?
Atlength they both arose when morning came,
And
through the day the converse was the same.
At
night howe’er the horn was heard once more,
And
terrified the females as before.
Thou
unbelieving woman, cried the voice,
For
certain purposes of God the choice;
No
more delay, but to the hermit fly,
Or
’tis decreed that thou shalt quickly die.
Now,
mother, said the girl, I told you well;
Come,
let us hasten to the hermit’s cell;
So
much I dread your death, I’ll nothing shun;
And
if ’tis requisite, I’ll even run.
Away
then, cried the mother, let us go;
Some
pains to dress, the daughter would bestow,
Without
reflecting what might be her fare:—
To
please is ev’ry blooming lass’s care.
Ourmonk was on the watch you may suppose;
A
hole he made that would a glimpse disclose;
By
which, when near his cell the females drew,
They
might, with whip in hand the hermit view,
Who,
like a culprit punished for his crimes,
Received
the lash, and that so many times,
It
sounded like the discipline of schools,
And
made more noise than flogging fifty fools.
Whenfirst our pilgrims knocked, he would not hear;
And,
for the moment, whipping would appear;
The
holy lash severely he applied,
Which,
through the hole, with pain our females spied;
At
length the door he ope’d, but from his eyes
Whennight arrived and they in sleep were lost,
Again
the hermit’s horn the woodwork crossed;
Return,
return, cried he with horrid tone;
To-morrow
you’ll have due attention shown;
I’ve
changed the hermit’s cold fastidious mind,
And
when you come, he’ll act as I’ve designed.
Thecouple left their bed at break of day,
And
to the cell repaired without delay
Our
tale to shorten, Lucius kind appeared
To
rigid rules no longer he adhered.
The
mother with him let her girl remain,
And
hastened to her humble roof again.
The
belle complying looked:—he took her arm,
And
soon familiar grew with ev’ry charm.
O
hypocrites! how oft your wily art
Deceives
the world and causes poignant smart.
Atmatins they so very often met,
Some
awkward indications caused regret.
The
fair at length her apron-string perceived
Grew
daily shorter, which her bosom grieved;
But
nothing to the hermit she’d unfold,
Nor
e’en those feelings to her mother told;
She
dreaded lest she should be sent away,
And
be deprived at once of Cupid’s play.
You’ll
tell me whence so much discernment came?
From
this same play:—the tree of art by name.
For
sev’n long months the nymph her visits paid;
Her
inexperience doubtless wanted aid.
Butwhen the mother saw her daughter’s case,
She
made her thank the monk, and leave the place.
The
hermit blessed the Lord for what was done;
A
pleasant course his humble slave had run.
He
told the mother and her daughter fair,
The
child, by God’s permission, gifts would share.
Whenhome returned, the girl, each day and night,
Amused
her mind with prospects of delight;
By
fancy’s aid she saw the future pope,
And
all prepared to greet her fondest hope;
But
what arrived the whole at once o’erthrew
Hats,
dukedoms, castles, vanished from the view:
The
promised elevation of the name
Dissolved
to air:-a little female came!
WhenCupid with his dart, would hearts assail,
The
rampart most secure is not the veil;
A
husband better will the fair protect,
Than
walls or lattices, I much suspect.
Those
parents, who in nunneries have got
Their
daughters (whether willingly or not),
Most
clearly in a glaring error prove,
To
fancy God will round their actions move;
’Tis
an abuse of what we hold divine;
The
Devil with them surely must combine.
Besides,
’twere folly to suppose that vice
Ne’er
entered convent walls, and nuns were ice.
A
very diff’rent sentiment I hold:
Girls,
who in publick move, however bold,
Have
greater terrors lest they get a stain;
For,
honour lost, they never fame regain.
Few
enemies their modesty attack;
The
others have but one their minds to rack.
Temptation,
daughter of the drowsy dame,
That
hates to move, and idleness we name,
Is
ever practising each wily art,
To
spread her snares around the throbbing heart;
And
fond desire, the child of lorn constraint,
Is
anxious to the soul soft scenes to paint.
If
I’ve a worthy daughter made a nun,
Is
that a reason she’s a saint?—Mere
fun!
Avaunt
such folly!—three in four you’ll find,
Of
those who wear the veil—have changed their
Withina nunnery, in days of yore,
A
good old man supplied the garden-store;
The
nuns, in general, were smart and gay,
And
kept their tongues in motion through the day.
Religious
duties they regarded less,
Than
for the palour* to be nice in dress
Arranging
ev’ry article to please,
That
each might captivate and charm at ease;
The
changes constantly they rang around,
And
made the convent-walls with din resound.
Eight
sisters and an abbess held the place,
And
strange to say—there Discord you might
trace.
All
nine had youth, and many beauty too:
Young
friars round the place were oft in view,
Who
reckoned ev’ry step they took so well,
That
always in the proper road they fell.
Th’
aged gard’ner, of whom ere now we spoke,
Was
oft bewildered, they would so provoke;
Capricious,
whimsical, from day to day,
Each
would command and try to have her way;
And
as they ne’er agreed among themselves,
He
suffered more than if with fifty elves;
When
one was pleased, another soon complained:
At
length to quit the nuns he was constrained.
He
left them, poor and wretched as he came;
No
cross, pile, money:—e’en his coat
the same.
A
youth of Lamporechio, gay and bold,
One
day this gard’ner met as I am told;
And
after conversation ’bout the place,
Said,
he should like nun’s service to embrace,
And
that he wished sincerely to be hired:
He’d
gratis do whatever was required.
’Twas
clear indeed his object was not pelf;
He
thought however he might reward himself;
And
as the sisters were not over wise,
A
nun he now and then might make his prize;
Proceed
from one to more with like address,
Till
with the whole he’d had complete success.
Said
Nuto (such we find the gard’ner’s name),
Believe
me, friend, you will be much to blame;
Some
other service seek, I recommend;
These
convent-dames will ne’er their whimseys end.
I’d
rather live without or soup or bread,
Than
work for them, however nicely fed.
Strangecreatures are these nuns, upon my word;
Their
ways ridiculous and e’en absurd;
Who,
with the sisterhood, has never been,
Has
clearly yet, not perfect torment seen,
Such
service, prithee, never try to gain;
To
do what they require I know is vain;
One
will have soft, and t’other asks for hard:
Thou’lt
be a fool such ninnies to regard;
No
work thou’lt do, whatever be the want:
This
cabbages,—that carrots tells thee plant:
Said
t’other, fain I’d bring it to the test;
I’m
but a simpleton, it is confessed;
Yet
still a month in place, and thou wilt see;
How
well I with the convent-dames agree.
The
reason is, my life is in its prime,
While
thou art sunk in years and worn by time,
I’m
proper for their work, and only ask,
To
be admitted to the drudging task.
Well,
said the former, if resolved to try,
To
their factotum instantly apply;
Come;
let’s away. Lead on, the other cried;
I’ve
got a thought, which I’ll to you confide:—
I’ll
seem an idiot, and quite dumb appear.—
In
that, said Nuto, only persevere,
And
then perhaps the confessor thou’lt find,
With
their factotum carelessly inclined;
No
fears nor dark suspicions of a mute:
Thou’lt
ev’ry way, my friend, their wishes suit.
Theplace, as was expected, soon he got;
And
half the grounds to trench, at once his lot:
He
acted well the nincompoop and fool,
Yet
still was steady to the garden tool;
The
nuns continually would flock around,
And
much amusement in his anticks found.
Oneday, as sleeping lay our sprightly wight,
Or
feigning sleep, no matter which is right,
(Boccace
pretends the latter was the fact)
Two
nuns (perhaps not two the most exact,)
Observing
him extended on the sward,
While
summer’s heat from air so much debarred;
That
few would venture from the convent-roof,
Lest,
’gainst the sun, their cheeks should not be proof:
Said
one, approaching him, let’s take this fool,
And
place him in the garden-house to cool.
The
lad was handsome, with engaging mien:
The
nun admired the features she had seen,
And
Cupid raised a wish to be at ease,
Where
she, without restraint, herself might please.
What
would you, cried the other, with him do?
You’ll
see, rejoined the first, if we pursue;
Just
what might be expected from the place;
Christ!
said the second (with a cross of grace),
You
would not surely do what is forbid?
Suppose
increase? it never could be hid;
Besides,
should we be seen, ’twill be the cause,
Of
dire disgrace to break such sacred laws.
Weshall not be observed, the first replied;
These
ills thy fancy forms: haste, let’s decide,
And
seize the moment while ’tis in our reach,
Without
regard to what old dotards teach,
Or
what may happen at a future hour;
Here’s
no one near: ’tis fully in our pow’r;
The
time and place so thoroughly agree,
’Twill
be impossible our freaks to see;
But
’twill be right that one should watch with care;
While
t’other with the lad seeks joys to share,
And
irksome gloom endeavours to dispel:
He’s
dumb, you know, and tales can never tell.
The
other answered, since ’tis your desire,
I’ll
acquiesce and do what you require;
You’ll
take him first: I see it is your aim;
And
since it will oblige, I’ll wave my claim;
Go,
pleasure seek, and satisfy each wish:
You’re
always anxious for a fav’rite dish;
’Tis
only to oblige that I comply.
That,
said the other, clearly I descry;
I’m
well persuaded, thou art always kind;
But
still I think thou would’st not be inclined;
In
such a scene to take the leading part,
Thy
bashfulness would counteract thy heart.
Some
time the squeamish sister watched the spot;
At
length the other, who’d her wishes got,
The
station took; the lab’rer tried to please
The
second as the first, but less at ease;
So
many favours fell not to her share,
And
only treble comfort proved her fare.
The garden-path, and summer-house as well, Were well remembered by each wanton belle; No need of guides; and soon our spark contrived; With sister Agnes also to be hived A press-house at the convent end he chose, in which he showed her how soft pleasure flows; Nor Claudia nor Angelica would miss The dormitory that, and cellar this; In short the garret and the vaulted cave Knew fully how the sisters could behave; Not one but what he first or last regaled E’en with the rigid abbess he prevailed, To take a dance, and as the dame required Her treble share of what was most admired, The other nuns were oft obliged to fast, While with the convent-head his time was passed.
To
no restoratives our Wight would run;
Though
these do little, where much work is done:
So
oft the lad was pressed for cheering play,
That
with the abbess, when engaged one day,
He
said, where’er I go, ’tis common talk,
With
only sev’n an able bird should walk,
Yet
constantly I’ve got no less than nine:—
The
abbess cried,—A miracle divine!
Here
nuns, pray haste, and quickly come around;
We’ve
fasted with success:—his tongue is found.
* The parlour in a convent
is the room where the nuns are
permitted to speak to
their friends through a lattice.
ETEXT EDITOR’S BOOKMARKS:
A pretty wife? Beware the monks as you would guard your life Monks are knaves in Virtue’s mask
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