Expedients may be too many, Consuming time to choose and try. On one, but that as good as any, 'Tis best in danger to rely.
XV.--THE HUSBAND, THE WIFE, AND THE THIEF.[18]
A man that loved,--and loved his wife,-- Still led an almost joyless life. No tender look, nor gracious word, Nor smile, that, coming from a bride, Its object would have deified, E'er told her doting lord The love with which he burn'd Was in its kind return'd. Still unrepining at his lot, This man, thus tied in Hymen's knot, Thank'd God for all the good he got. But why? If love doth fail to season Whatever pleasures Hymen gives, I'm sure I cannot see the reason Why one for him the happier lives. However, since his wife Had ne'er caress'd him in her life, He made complaint of it one night. The entrance of a thief Cut short his tale of grief, And gave the lady such a fright, She shrunk from dreaded harms Within her husband's arms. 'Good thief,' cried he, 'This joy so sweet, I owe to thee: Now take, as thy reward, Of all that owns me lord, Whatever suits thee save my spouse; Ay, if thou pleasest, take the house.' As thieves are not remarkably O'erstock'd with modesty, This fellow made quite free.
From this account it doth appear, The passions all are ruled by fear. Aversion may be conquer'd by it, And even love may not defy it. But still some cases there have been Where love hath ruled the roast, I ween. That lover, witness, highly bred, Who burnt his house above his head, And all to clasp a certain dame, And bear her harmless through the flame. This transport through the fire, I own, I much admire; And for a Spanish soul, reputed coolish, I think it grander even than 'twas foolish.[19]
[18] Bidpaii. [19] _'Twas foolish._--La Fontaine here refers to the adventure of the Spanish Count Villa Medina with Elizabeth of France, wife of Philip IV. of Spain. The former, having invited the Spanish court to a splendid entertainment in his palace, had it set on fire, that he might personally rescue the said lady from its flames.--Translator.
A man whose credit fail'd, and what was worse, Who lodged the devil in his purse,-- That is to say, lodged nothing there,-- By self-suspension in the air Concluded his accounts to square, Since, should he not, he understood, From various tokens, famine would-- A death for which no mortal wight Had ever any appetite. A ruin, crown'd with ivy green, Was of his tragedy the scene. His hangman's noose he duly tied, And then to drive a nail he tried;-- But by his blows the wall gave way, Now tremulous and old, Disclosing to the light of day A sum of hidden gold. He clutch'd it up, and left Despair To struggle with his halter there. Nor did the much delighted man E'en stop to count it as he ran. But, while he went, the owner came, Who loved it with a secret flame, Too much indeed for kissing,-- And found his money--missing! 'O Heavens!' he cried, 'shall I Such riches lose, and still not die? Shall I not hang?--as I, in fact, Might justly do if cord I lack'd; But now, without expense, I can; This cord here only lacks a man.' The saving was no saving clause; It suffer'd not his heart to falter, Until it reach'd his final pause As full possessor of the halter,-- 'Tis thus the miser often grieves: Whoe'er the benefit receives Of what he owns, he never must-- Mere treasurer for thieves, Or relatives, or dust. But what say we about the trade In this affair by Fortune made? Why, what but that it was just like her! In freaks like this delighteth she. The shorter any turn may be, The better it is sure to strike her. It fills that goddess full of glee A self-suspended man to see; And that it does especially, When made so unexpectedly.