And on his arm a brilliant bracelet plac’d,
          With hair around her picture nicely trac’d;
          This guard in full remembrance of my love,
          She cried;—­then clasped her hands to pow’rs above.

          Tosee such dire distress, and poignant grief,
          Might lead to think, soon death would bring relief;
          But I, who know full well the female mind,
          At best oft doubt affliction of the kind.

          Jocondeset out at length; but that same morn;
          As on he mov’d, his soul with anguish torn,
          He found the picture he had quite forgot,
          Then turn’d his steed, and back began to trot. 
          While musing what excuse to make his mate,
          At home he soon arriv’d, and op’d the gate;
          Alighted unobserv’d, ran up the stairs;
          And ent’ring to the lady unawares,
          He found this darling rib, so full of charms;
          Intwin’d within a valet’s brawny arms!

          ’Midstfirst emotions of the husband’s ire;
          To stab them while asleep he felt desire;
          Howe’er, he nothing did; the courteous wight;
          In this dilemma, clearly acted right;
          The less of such misfortunes said is best;
          ’Twere well the soul of feeling to divest;
          Their lives, through pity, or prudential care;
          With much reluctance, he was led to spare;
          Asleep he left the pair, for if awake,
          In honour, he a diff’rent step would take.—­
          Had any smart gallant supplied my place,
          Said he, I might put up with this disgrace;
          But naught consoles the thought of such a beast;
          Dan Cupid wantons, or is blind at least;
          A bet, or some such whim, induc’d the god,
          To give his sanction to amours so odd.

          Thisperfidy 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!

          Withsecret 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.

          Thegod 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.