THIS perfidy Joconde so much dismay'd; His spirits droop'd, his lilies 'gan to fade; No more he look'd the charmer he had been; And when the court's gay dames his face had seen; They cried, Is this the beauty, we were told, Would captivate each heart, or young or old? Why, he's the jaundice; ev'ry view displays The mien of one,--just fasted forty days! WITH secret pleasure, this, Astolphus learn'd; The Roman, for his brother, risks discern'd, Whose secret griefs were carefully conceal'd, (And these Joconde could never wish reveal'd;) Yet, spite of gloomy looks and hollow eyes, His graceful features pierc'd the wan disguise, Which fail'd to please, alone through want of life, Destroy'd by thinking on a guilty wife. THE god of love, in pity to our swain, At last revok'd BLACK CARE'S corroding reign; For, doubtless, in his views he oft was cross'd, While such a lover to the world was lost. THE hero of our tale, at length, we find Was well rewarded: LOVE again proved kind; For, musing as he walk'd alone one day, And pass'd a gall'ry, (held a secret way,) A voice in plaintive accents caught his ear, And from the neighb'ring closet came, 'twas clear: My dear Curtade, my only hope below, In vain I love;--you colder, colder grow; While round no fair can boast so fine a face, And numbers wish they might supply thy place, Whilst thou with some gay page prefer'st a bet, Or game of dice with some low, vulgar set, To meeting me alone; and when just now To thee I sent, with rage thou knit'st thy brow, And Dorimene, with ev'ry curse abus'd Then played again, since better that amus'd, And left me here, as if not worth a thought, Or thou didst scorn what I so fondly sought. ASTONISHMENT, at once, our Roman seiz'd; But who's the fair that thus her bosom eas'd? Or, who's the gay Adonis, form'd to bless? You'd try a day, and not the secret guess, The queen's the belle:--and, doubtless you will stare, The king's own dwarf the idol of her care! THE Roman saw a crevice in the wood, Through which he took a peep from where he stood; To Dorimene our lovers left the key, Which she had dropt when lately forc'd to flee, And this Joconde pick'd up, a lucky hit, Since he could use it when he best thought fit. It seems, said he, I'm not alone in name, And since a prince so handsome is the same, Although a valet has supplied my place, Yet see, the queen prefers a dwarf's embrace.