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THE DEVIL OF POPE-FIG ISLAND | 1 |
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By master Francis clearly ’tis expressed:
The folks of Papimania are blessed;
True sleep for them alone it seems was made
With us the copy only has been laid;
And by Saint John, if Heav’n my life will spare,
I’ll see this place where sleeping ’s free from care.
E’en better still I find, for naught they do:
’Tis that employment always I pursue.
Just add thereto a little honest love,
And I shall be as easy as a glove.
Ont’other hand an island may be seen,
Where
all are hated, cursed, and full of spleen.
We
know them by the thinness of their face
Long
sleep is quite excluded from their race.
Shouldyou, good reader, any person meet,
With
rosy, smiling looks, and cheeks replete,
The
form not clumsy, you may safely say,
A
Papimanian doubtless I survey.
But
if, on t’other side, you chance to view,
A
meagre figure, void of blooming hue,
With
stupid, heavy eye, and gloomy mien
Conclude
at once a Pope-figer, you’ve seen.
Pope-fig
’S the name upon an isle bestowed,
Where
once a fig the silly people showed,
As
like the pope, and due devotion paid:—
By
folly, blocks have often gods been made!
These
islanders were punished for their crime;
Naught
prospers, Francis tells us, in their clime;
To
Lucifer was giv’n the hateful spot,
And
there his country house he now has got.
His
underlings appear throughout the isle,
Rude,
wretched, poor, mean, sordid, base, and vile;
With
tales, and horns, and claws, if we believe,
What
many say who ought not to deceive.
Oneday it happened that a cunning clown
Was
by an imp observed, without the town,
To
turn the earth, which seemed to be accurst,
Since
ev’ry trench was painful as the first.
This
youthful devil was a titled lord;
In
manners simple:—naught to be abhorred;
He
might, so ignorant, be duped at ease;
As
yet he’d scarcely ventured to displease:
Said
he, I’d have thee know, I was not born,
Like
clods to labour, dig nor sow the corn;
A
devil thou in me beholdest here,
Of
noble race: to toil I ne’er appear.
Thouknow’st full well, these fields to us belong:
The
islanders, it seems, had acted wrong;
And,
for their crimes, the pope withdrew his cares;
Our
subjects now you live, the law declares;
And
therefore, fellow, I’ve undoubted right,
To
take the produce of this field, at sight;
Thisbeardless corn when ripe, with joy was reaped,
And
then the stubble by the roots was heaped,
To
satisfy the lordly devil’s claim,
Who
thought the seed and root were just the same,
And
that the ear and stalk were useless parts,
Which
nothing made if carried to the marts:
The
labourer his produce housed with care;
The
other to the market brought his ware,
Where
ridicule and laughter he received;
’Twas
nothing worth, which much his bosom grieved.
Quitemortified, the devil quickly went;
To
seek our clod, and mark his discontent:
The
fellow had discreetly sold the corn,
In
straw, unthrashed, and off the money borne,
Which
he, with ev’ry wily care, concealed;
The
imp was duped, and nothing was revealed.
Said
he, thou rascal?—pretty tricks thou’st
played;
It
seems that cheating is thy daily trade;
But
I’m a noble devil of the court,
Who
tricking never knew, save by report.
What
grain dost mean to sow th’ ensuing year?
The
labourer replied, I think it clear,
Instead
of grain, ’twill better be to chop,
And
take a carrot, or a turnip crop;
You
then, my lord, will surely plenty find;
And
radishes, if you are so inclined.
Thesecarrots, radishes, and turnips too,
Said
t’other, I am led to think will do;
My
part shall be what ’bove the soil is found:
Thine,
fellow, what remains within the ground;
No
war with thee I’ll have, unless constrained,
And
thou hast never yet of me complained.
I
now shall go and try to tempt a nun,
For
I’m disposed to have a little fun.
Thetime arrived again to house the store;
The
labourer collected as before;
Leaves
solely to his lordship were assigned,
Who
sought for those a ready sale to find,
But
through the market ridicule was heard,
And
ev’ry one around his jest preferred:—
Pray,
Mister Devil, where d’ye grow these greens?
How
treasure up returns from your demesnes?
Enragedat what was said, he hurried back,
And,
on the clown, proposed to make attack,
Who,
full of joy, was laughing with his wife,
And
tasting pleasantly the sweets of life.
By
all the pow’rs of Hell, the demon cried,
He
shall the forfeit pay, I now decide;
A
pretty rascal truly, master Phil:
Here,
pleasures you expect at will,
Well,
well, proceed; gallant it while allowed;
For
present I’ll remit what I had vowed;
A
charming lady I’m engaged to meet;
She’s
sometimes willing: then again discreet;
But
soon as I, in cuckold’s row, have placed
Her
ninny husband, I’ll return in haste,
And
then so thoroughly I’ll trim you o’er,
Such
wily tricks you’ll never practise more;
We’ll
see who best can use his claws and nails,
And
from the fields obtain the richest sales.
Corn,
carrots, radishes, or what you will:—
Crop
as you like, and show your utmost skill
No
stratagems howe’er with culture blend;
I’ll
take my portion from the better end;
Within
a week, remember, I’ll be here,
And
recollect:—you’ve every thing to fear.
Amazedat what the lordly devil said,
The
clod could naught reply, so great his dread;
But
at the gasconade Perretta smiled,
Who
kept his house and weary hours beguiled,
A
sprightly clever lass, with prying eye,
Who,
when a shepherdess, could more descry,
Than
sheep or lambs she watched upon the plain,
If
other views or points she sought to gain.
Said
she, weep not, I’ll undertake at ease,
To
gull this novice-devil as I please;
He’s
young and ignorant; has nothing seen;
Thee;
from his rage, I thoroughly will skreen;
My
little finger, if I like can show
More
malice than his head and body know.
Theday arrived, our labourer, not brave,
Concealed
himself, but not in vault nor cave;
He
plunged within a vase extremely large,
Where
holy-water always was in charge;
No
demon would have thought to find him there,
So
well the clod had chosen his repair;
In
sacred stoles he muffled up his skin,
And,
’bove the water, only kept his chin;
There
we will leave him, while the priests profound
Repeated
Vade retro round and round.
Perrettaat the house remained to greet
The
lordly devil whom she hoped to cheat.
He
soon appeared; when with dishevelled hair,
And
flowing tears, as if o’erwhelmed with care,
She
sallied forth, and bitterly complained,
How
oft by Phil she had been scratched and caned;
Said
she, the wretch has used me very ill;
Of
cruelty he has obtained his fill;
For
God’s sake try, my lord, to get away:
Just
now I heard the savage fellow say,
He’d
with his claws your lordship tear and slash:
See,
only see, my lord, he made this gash;
On
which she showed:—what you will guess, no
doubt,
And
put the demon presently to rout,
Who
crossed himself and trembled with affright:
He’d
never seen nor heard of such a sight,
Where
scratch from claws or nails had so appeared;
His
fears prevailed, and off he quickly steered;
Perretta
left, who, by her friends around,
Was
complimented on her sense profound,
That
could so well the demon’s snares defeat;
The
clergy too pronounced her plan discrete.
FERONDE
In Eastern climes, by means considered new;
The Mount’s old-man, with terrors would pursue;
His large domains howe’er were not the cause,
Nor heaps of gold, that gave him such applause,
But manners strange his subjects to persuade;
In ev’ry wish, to serve him they were made.
Among his people boldest hearts he chose,
And to their view would Paradise disclose
Its blissful pleasures:—ev’ry soft delight,
Designed to gratify the sense and sight.
So plausible this prophet’s tale appeared,
Each word he dropt was thoroughly revered.
Whence this delusion?—Drink deranged the mind;
And, reason drowned, to madness they resigned.
Thus void of knowing clearly what they did,
They soon were brought to act as they were bid;
Conveyed to places, charming to the eye,
Enchanting gardens ’neath an azure sky,
With twining shrubs, meandring walks, and flow’rs,
And num’rous grottos, porticoes and bow’rs.
When they chanced to pass where all was gay,
From wine’s inebriating pow’rful sway,
They wondered at the frolicking around,
And fancied they were got on fairy ground,
Which Mahomet pretended was assigned,
For those to his doctrine were inclined.
To tempt the men and girls to seek the scene,
And skip and play and dance upon the green,
To murm’ring streams, meandering along,
And lutes’ soft notes and nightingales’ sweet song:
No earthly pleasure but might there be viewed,
The best of wines and choicest fruits accrued,
To render sense bewildered at the sight,
And sink inebriated with delight.
Thenback they bore them motionless to sleep,
And
wake with wishes further joys to reap.
From
these enjoyments many fully thought,
To
such enchanting scenes they should be brought,
In
future times, eternal bliss to taste,
If
death and danger valiantly they faced,
And
tried the prophet Mahomet to please,
And
ev’ry point to serve their prince would seize.
TheMount’s old man, by means like these, could say;
He’d
men devoted to support his sway;
Upon
the globe no empire more was feared,
Or
king or potentate like him revered.
These
circumstances I’ve minutely told,
To
show, our tale was known in days of old.
Feronde,
a rich, but awkward, vulgar clown,
A
ninny was believed throughout the town;
He
had the charge of revenues not slight,
Which
he collected for a friar white.
Of
these I’ve known as good as any black,
When
husbands some assistance seemed to lack,
And
had so much to do, they monks might need;
Or
other friends, their work at home to speed.
This
friar for to-morrow never thought,
But
squandered ev’ry thing as soon as brought;
No
saint-apostle less of wealth retained;
Good
cheer o’er ev’ry wish triumphant reigned,
Save
now and then to have a little fun,
(Unknown
to others) with a pretty nun.
Ferondehad got a spouse of pleasing sight,
Related
nearly to our friar white,
Whose
predecessor, uncle, sponsor kind,
Now
gone to realms of night, had her consigned,
To
be this silly blockhead’s lawful wife,
Who
thought her hand the honour of his life.
’Tis
said that bastard-daughters oft retain
A
disposition to the parent-train;
And
this, the saying, truly ne’er bellied,
Nor
was her spouse so weak but he descried,
Things
clearer than was requisite believed,
And
doubted much if he were not deceived.
Thewife would often to the prelate go,
Pretending
business, proper he should know;
A
thousand circumstances she could find;
’Twas
then accounts: now sev’ral things combined;
In
short no day nor hour within the week,
But
something at the friar’s she would seek.
The
holy father then was always prone,
To
send the servants off and be alone.
Howe’er
the husband, doubting tricks were played;
Got
troublesome; his wife would much upbraid
When
she returned, and often beat her too;
In
short,—he unaccommodating grew.
Therural mind by nature jealous proves;
Suspicion
shows of ev’ry thing that moves;
Unused
to city ways, perverse appears,
And,
undismayed, to principle adheres:
Thefriar found his situation hard;
He
loved his ease?—all trouble would discard;
As
priests in gen’ral anxiously desire;
Their
plan howe’er I never can admire,
And
should not choose at once to take the town,
But
by the escalade obtain the crown;
In
love I mean; to war I don’t allude:
No
silly bragging I would here intrude,
Nor
be enrolled among the martial train:
‘Tis
Venus’ court that I should like to gain.
Let
t’other custom be the better way:
It
matters not; no longer I’ll delay,
But
to my tale return, and fully state,
How
our receiver, who misused his mate;
Was
put in purgatory to be cured,
And,
for a time, most thoroughly immured.
Bymeans of opiate powders, much renowned,
The
friar plunged him in a sleep profound.
Thought
dead; the fun’ral obsequies achieved,
He
was surprised, and doubtless sorely grieved,
When
he awoke and saw where he was placed,
With
folks around, not much to suit his taste;
For
in the coffin he at large was left,
And
of the pow’r to move was not bereft,
But
might arise and walk about the tomb,
Which
opened to another vaulted room,
The
gloomy, hollow mansion of the dead:
Fear
quickly o’er his drooping spirits spread.
What’s
here? cried he: is’t sleep, or is it death;
Some
charm or spell perhaps withdraws their breath.
Our
wight then asked their names and business there;
And
why he was retained in such a snare?
In
what had he offended God or man?—
Said
one, console thyself:—past moments scan;
When
thou hast rested here a thousand years,
Thou’lt
then ascend amid the Heav’nly spheres;
But
first in holy purgatory learn,
To
cleanse thyself from sins that we discern;
One
day thy soul shall leave this loathsome place,
And,
pure as ice, repair to realms of grace.
Then
this consoling Angel gave a thwack,
And
ten or dozen stripes laid on his back:—
’Tis
thy unruly, jealous mind, said he,
Displeases
God, and dooms thee here to be.
A
mournful sigh the lorn receiver heaved,
His
aching shoulders rubbed, and sobbed and grieved;
A
thousand years, cried he, ’tis long indeed!
My
very soul with horror seems to bleed.
Weshould observe, this Angel was a wag,
A
novice-friar and a convent fag;
Like
him the others round had parts to act,
And
were disguised in dresses quite exact.
Our
penitent most humbly pardon sought;
Said
he, if e’er to life again I’m brought,
No
jealousy, suspicion’s hateful bane,
Shall
ever enter my distracted brain.
May
I not have this grace, this wished for boon?
Some
hopes they gave, but it could not be soon;
In
short a year he lay upon the floor:
Just
food for life received, and nothing more,
Each
day on bread and water he was fed,
And
o’er his back the cat-o’nine-tails spread:
Full
twenty lashes were the number set,
Unless
the friar should from Heav’n first get
Permission
to remit at times a part,
For
charity was glowing in his heart.
We,
must not doubt, he often offered prayers,
To
ease the culprit’s sufferings and cares.
The
Angel likewise made a long discourse;
Said
he, those vile suspicions were the source,
Of
all thy sorrow, wretchedness, and pain:
Think’st
thou such thoughts the clergy entertain?
A
friar white!—too bad in ev’ry sense:
Ten
strokes to one, if black, for such offence.
Repent,
I say:—the other this desired,
Though
scarcely he could tell what was required.
Meanwhilethe prelate with the fav’rite dame,
No
time to lose, made ev’ry hour the same.
The
husband, with a sigh, was heard to say:
I
wonder what my wife’s about to-day?
About?—whate’er
it be ’tis doubtless right;
Our
friar, to console her, takes delight;
Thy
business too is managed as before,
And
anxious care bestowed upon thy store.
Hasshe as usual matters that demand
Attendance
at the cloister to be scanned?—
No
doubt was the reply, for having now
The
whole affair upon her feeble brow,
Poor
woman! be her wishes what they will,
She
more assistance wants thy loss to fill.
Discourselike this no pleasure gave the soul:
To
call him so seems best upon the whole,
Since
he’d not pow’r like others here to feed:—
Mere
earthly shadow for a time decreed.
A
month was passed in fasting, pains, and prayer;
Some
charity the friar made him share,
And
now and then remission would direct;
The
widow too he never would neglect,
But,
all the consolation in his pow’r,
Bestowed
Since’twere improper such a fact were known;
When
proofs perhaps too clearly might be shown,
So
many prayers were said and vigils kept,
At
length the soul from purgatory crept,
So
much reduced, and ev’ry way so thin
But
little more he seemed than bones and skin.
A
thing so strange filled numbers with surprise,
Who
scarcely would believe their ears and eyes.
The
friar passed for saint:—Feronde his fruit;
None
durst presume to doubt nor to dispute;
A
double miracle at once appeared
The
dead’s return: the lady’s state revered.
With
treble force Te Deum round was sung;
Sterility
in marriage oft was rung,
And
near the convent many offered prayers,
In
hopes their fervent vows would gain them heirs.
Thehumble spouse and wife we now shall leave
Let
none, howe’er, suppose that we conceive,
Each
husband merits, as our soul, the same,
To
cure the jealous fears his breast inflame.
Perhaps one half our bliss to chance we owe
The more of this I think, the less I know
Though expectations oft away have flown
When husbands some assistance seemed to lack
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