Tales and Novels of J. de La Fontaine — Volume 25

This eBook was produced by David Widger
Contains: The Dress-maker The Gascon The Pitcher To Promise is One Thing, to Keep it, Another The Nightengale Epitaph of Fontaine
A CLOISTERED nun had a lover Dwelling in the neighb'ring town; Both racked their brains to discover How they best their love might crown. The swain to pass the convent-door!— No easy matter!—Thus they swore, And wished it light.—I ne'er knew a nun In such a pass to be outdone:— In woman's clothes the youth must dress, And gain admission. I confess The ruse has oft been tried before, But it succeeded as of yore. Together in a close barred cell The lovers were, and sewed all day, Nor heeded how time flew away.— What's that I hear? Refection bell! 'Tis time to part. Adieu!—Farewell!— How's this? exclaimed the abbess, why The last at table? — Madam, I Have had my dress-maker. — The rent On which you've both been so intent Is hard to stop, for the whole day To sew and mend, you made her stay; Much work indeed you've had to do! —Madam, 't would last the whole night through, When in our task we find enjoyment There is no end of the employment.
I AM always inclined to suspect The best story under the sun As soon as by chance I detect That teller and hero are one.
We're all of us prone to conceit, And like to proclaim our own glory, But our purpose we're apt to defeat As actors in chief of our story.
To prove the truth of what I state Let me an anecdote relate: A Gascon with his comrade sat At tavern drinking. This and that He vaunted with assertion pat. From gasconade to gasconade Passed to the conquests he had made In love. A buxom country maid, Who served the wine, with due attention Lent patient ear to each invention, And pressed her hands against her side Her bursting merriment to hide. To hear our Gascon talk, no Sue Nor Poll in town but that he knew; With each he'd passed a blissful night More to their own than his delight. This one he loved for she was fair, That for her glossy ebon hair. One miss, to tame his cruel rigour, Had brought him gifts.—She owned his vigour In short it wanted but his gaze To set each trembling heart ablaze. His strength surpassed his luck,—the test— In one short night ten times he'd blessed A dame who gratefully expressed Her thanks with corresponding zest. At this the maid burst forth, What more? I never heard such lies before! Content were I if at that sport I had what that poor dame was short.