 |
 |
 |
|
 |
Tales and Novels of J. de La Fontaine — Volume 20 by La Fontaine, Jean de, 1621-1695
|
A word from our supporters: File extension KSV | By seeing her that o'er his senses reigned. The village-wife was innocent of this, And never dreamed of any thing amiss; The pastor's mystick looks, nor flatt'ring ways; Nor presents, aught in Magdalene could raise; But nosegays made of thyme, and marj'ram too, Were dropt on ground, or never kept in view; A hundred little cares appeared as naught 'Twas Welch to her, and ne'er conveyed a thought. A pleasant stratagem he now contrived, From which, he hoped, success might be derived. Yet truly I could never have a doubt, That rashly he would ne'er himself commit, Though folly 'twere from him to look for wit, Or aught expect by questioning to find 'Yond this to reason, he was not designed. And hast not half enough for food to spend, With other things that necessary prove, If we below with comfort wish to move. Some day I'll show thee how thou may'st procure The means that will thy happiness insure, And make thee feel contented as a king. To me what present for it wilt thou bring? You'll me direct to do as you require; My labour pray command; 'tis all I've got; Our pig howe'er to you we can allot, We want it not; and truly it has eat More bran than thrice this vessel would complete; The cow you'll take besides, from which my wife A calf expects, to raise the means of life. No, no, the pastor with a smile replied, A recompense for this thou'lt not provide; My neighbour to oblige is all I heed; And now I'll tell thee how thou must proceed; Thy spouse, by magick, I'll transform each day, And turn her to a mare for cart or dray, And then again restore her ev'ry night, To human form to give thy heart delight. From this to thee great profit will arise; Thy ass, so slow is found, that when supplies, It carries to the market, 'tis so late, The hour is almost past ere at the gate, And then thy cabbages, and herbs, and roots, Provisions, provender, and wares and fruits, Remain unsold, and home to spoil are brought, Since rarely far from thence such things are sought. But when thy wife's a mare, she'll faster go: Strong, active, ev'ry way her worth she'll show, And home will come without expense in meat: No soup nor bread, but solely herbs she'll eat: From learning, what advantages arise! Is this pray sold?--If I'd much money got, To make the purchase I'd the cash allot. The proper manner, matters to conduct, For thee to have a clever mare by day, And still at night a charming wife survey; Face, legs, and ev'ry thing shall reappear; Come, see it done, and I'll perform it here; Thou'lt then the method fully comprehend; But hold thy tongue, or all will quickly end: A single word the magick would dispel, And, during life, no more with us 'twould dwell. Keep close thy mouth and merely ope' thy eyes: A glimpse alone to learn it will suffice; This o'er, thyself shall practise it the same, And all will follow as when first it came. And John disliked deferring matters long. Come, Magdalene, said he, you will undress; To quit those Sunday-clothes, you'll acquiesce, And put yourself in Nature's pure array Well, well, proceed; with stays and sleeves away; That's better still; now petticoats lay by; How nicely with my orders you comply. |