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The Case of Conscience

THOSE who in fables deal, bestow at ease Both names and titles, freely as they please. It costs them scarcely any thing, we find. And each is nymph or shepherdess designed; Some e'en are goddesses, that move below, From whom celestial bliss of course must flow.

THIS Horace followed, with superior art:-- If, to the trav'ller's bed, with throbbing heart, The chambermaid approached, 'twas Ilia found, Or fair Egeria, or some nymph renowned.

GOD, in his goodness, made, one lovely day, Apollo, who directs the lyrick lay, And gave him pow'rs to call and name at will, Like father Adam, with primordial skill. Said he, go, names bestow that please the ear; In ev'ry word let sweetest sound appear. This ancient law then proves, by right divine, WE oft are sponsors to the royal line.

WHEN pleasing tales and fables I endite, I, who in humble verse presume to write, May surely use this privilege of old, And, to my fancy, appellations mould. If I, instead of Anne, should Sylvia say, And Master Thomas (when the case I weigh) Should change to Adamas, the druid sage, Must I a fine or punishment engage? No, surely not:--at present I shall choose Anne and the Parson for my tale to use.

WITHIN her village, Anne was thought the belle, And ev'ry other charmer to excel. As near a river once she chanced to stray, She saw a youth in Nature's pure array, Who bathed at ease within the gliding stream; The girl was brisk, and worthy of esteem, Her eyes were pleased; the object gave delight; Not one defect could be produced in sight; Already, by the shepherdess adored, If with the belle to pleasing flights he'd soared, The god of love had all they wished concealed None better know what should not be revealed. Anne nothing feared: the willows were her shade, Which, like Venetian blinds, a cov'ring made; Her eyes, howe'er, across had easy view, And, o'er the youth, each beauty could pursue.

SHE back four paces drew, at first, through shame; Then, led by LOVE, eight others forward came; But scruples still arose that ardour foiled, And nearly ey'ry thing had truly spoiled. Anne had a conscience pure as holy fire; But how could she abstain from soft desire? If, in the bosom chance a flame should raise, Is there a pow'r can then subdue the blaze? At first these inclinations she withstood; But doubting soon, how those of flesh and blood Could sins commit by stepping in advance, She took her seat upon the green expanse, And there attentively the lad observed, With eyes that scarcely from him ever swerved.

PERHAPS you've seen, from Nature, drawings made? Some Eve, or Adam, artists then persuade, In birth-attire to stand within their view, While they with care and taste each trait pursue; And, like our shepherdess, their stations take, A perfect semblance ev'ry way to make.

ANNE in her mem'ry now his image placed; Each line and feature thoroughly she traced, And even now the fair would there remain, If William (so was called this youthful swain) Had not the water left; when she retired, Though scarcely twenty steps from him admired, Who, more alert than usual then appeared, And, by the belle, in silence was revered.

WHEN such sensations once were in the breast, Love there we may believe would hardly rest.

THE favours Anne reserved he thought his own, Though expectations oft away have flown. The more of this I think, the less I know; Perhaps one half our bliss to chance we owe!

BE this as 'twill, the conscientious Anne Would nothing venture to regale her man; Howe'er, she stated what had raised her fear, And ev'ry thing that made her persevere.

WHEN Easter came, new difficulties rose Then, in confession, ALL she should disclose. Anne, passing peccadillos in review, This case aside, as an intruder threw; But parson Thomas made her all relate; And ev'ry circumstance most clearly state; That he, by knowing fully each defect, Might punishment accordingly direct, In which no father-confessor should err, Who absolution justly would confer. The parson much his penitent abused; Said he, with sensual views to be amused, Is such a sin, 'tis scarcely worse to steal; The sight is just the same as if you feel.

HOWE'ER, the punishment that he imposed Was nothing great:--too slight to be disclosed; Enough to say, that in the country round, The father-confessors, who there abound, As in our own, (perhaps in ev'ry part,) Have devotees, who, when they ought to smart, A tribute pay, according to their lot, And thus indulgences are often got.

THIS tribute to discharge the current year, Much troubled Anne, and filled her breast with fear, When William, fishing, chanced a pike to hook, And gave it to his dear at once to cook, Who, quite delighted, hastened to the priest, And begged his rev'rence on the fish to feast. The parson with the present much was pleased; A tap upon the shoulder care appeased; And with a smile he to the bringer said This fish, with trifles on the table spread, Will all complete; 'twas holyday we find, When other clergy with our rector dined. Will you still more oblige, the parson cried, And let the fish at home by you be fried? Then bring it here:--my servant's very new, And can't attempt to cook as well as you. Anne hastened back; meanwhile the priests arrived, Much noise, and rout of course, once these were hived; Wines from the vault were brought without delay; Each of the quality would something say.

THE dinner served; the dean at table placed; Their conversation various points embraced; To state the whole would clearly endless be; In this no doubt the reader will agree. They changed and changed, and healths went round and round; No time for scandal while such cheer was found; The first and second course away were cleared, Dessert served up, yet still no pike appeared. The dinner o'er without th' expected dish, Or even a shadow of the promised fish. When William learned the present Anne had made, His wish, to have it cancelled, with her weighed. The rector was surprised, you may suppose, And, soon as from the table all arose, He went to Anne, and called her fool and knave, And, in his wrath, could scarcely secrets wave, But nearly her reproached the bathing scene; What, treat, said he, your priest like base and mean?

ANNE archly answered, with expression neat:-- The sight is just the same as if you eat!

The Devil of Pope-fig Island

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.

ON t'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.

SHOULD you, 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.

ONE day 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.

THOU know'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; But I am kind, and clearly will decide The year concluded, we'll the fruits divided. What crop, pray tell me, dost thou mean to sow? The clod replied, my lord, what best will grow I think is Tousell; grain of hardy fame; The imp rejoined, I never heard its name; What is it. Tousell, say'st thou?--I agree, If good return, 'twill be the same to me; Work fellow, work; make haste, the ground prepare; To dig and delve should be the rabble's care; Don't think that I will ever lend a hand, Or give the slightest aid to till the land; I've told thee I'm a gentleman by birth, Designed for ease: not doomed to turn the earth. Howe'er I'll now the diff'rent parts allot, And thus divide the produce of the plot:-- What shall above the heritage arise, I'll leave to thee; 'twill very well suffice; But what is in the soil shall be my share; To this attend, see ev'ry thing is fair.

THIS beardless 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.

QUITE mortified, 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.

THESE carrots, 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.

THE time 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?

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