Tales and Novels of J. de La Fontaine — Volume 22

This eBook was produced by David Widger
Contains: The Picture The Pack-Saddle The Ear-maker, and The Mould-Mender
SOLICITED I've been to give a tale, In which (though true, decorum must prevail), The subject from a picture shall arise, That by a curtain's kept from vulgar eyes. My brain must furnish various features new: What's delicate and smart produce to view; By this expressed, and not by t'other said: And all so clear, most easy to be read, By ev'ry fool, without the aid of notes, That idiot's bad indeed who never quotes.
CATULLUS tells us, ev'ry matron sage Will peep most willingly (whate'er her age), At that gigantick gift, which Juno made, To Venus' fruit, in gardens oft displayed. If any belle recede, and shun the sight, Dissimulation she supposes right.
THIS principle allowed, why scruples make? Why, less than eyes, should ears a license take? But since 'tis so resolved I'll do my best, And naught in open terms shall be expressed: A veil shall over ev'ry charm be cast, Of gauze indeed, and this from first to last, So nicely done, that howsoever tost, To none I trust will any thing be lost. Who nicely thinks, and speaks with graceful ease; Can current make just whatsoe'er he please; For all will pass, as I have often known: The word well chosen, pardon soon is shown, The sex o'erlook the thing no more the same, The thought remains, but 'tis without a name; No blush is raised; no difficulty found; Yet ev'ry body understands around.
AT present, much I need this useful art: Why? you will ask; because, when I impart Such wondrous circumstances, ev'ry belle, Without reserve, will con them over well. To this I answer: female ears are chaste, Though roguish are their eyes, as well as taste.
BE that as 'twill, I certainly should like, With freedom to explain, by terms oblique, To belles, how this was broken:—that was down: Assist me pray, ye NINE of high renown; But you are maids, and strangers, we agree, To LOVE'S soft scenes, not knowing A from B. Remain then, Muses, never stir an inch, But beg the god of verse, when at a pinch, To help me out and kind assistance lend, To choose expressions which will not offend, Lest I some silly things should chance to say, That might displeasure raise, and spoil my lay. Enough, howe'er, we've on the subject said: 'Tis time we t'wards the painting should be led, Which an adventure you will find contains, That happened once in Cupid's famed domains.