AN IMPOSSIBLE THING. A TALE.

AN IMPOSSIBLE THING . A TALE . TO thee , Dear Dick , this Tale I send , Both as a Critick and a Friend . I tell it with some Variation ( Not altogether a Translation ) From La Fontaine ; an Author , Dick , Whose Muse would touch thee to the quick . The Subject is of that same kind To which thy Heart seems most inclin'd : How Verse may alter it , God knows , Thou lov'st it well , I'm sure , in Prose , So , without Preface , or Pretence , To hold thee longer in Suspence , I shall proceed , as I am able , To the Recital of my Fable . A Goblin of the merry Kind , More black of Hue , than curst of Mind , To help a Lover in Distress , Contriv'd a Charm with such Success ; That in short Space the cruel Dame Relented , and return'd his Flame . The Dargain made betwixt 'em both , Was bound by Honour and by Oath : The Lover laid down his Salvation , And Satan stak'd his Reputation . The Latter promis'd on his Part ( To serve his Friend and shew his Art , ) That Madam shou'd by twelve a Clock , Tho' hitherto as hard as Rock , Become as gentle as a Glove , And kiss and coo like any Dove . In short , the Woman should be his , That is , upon Condition — Viz ; That He , the Lover , after tasting What one wou'd wish were everlasting ; Should , in Return for such Enjoyment , Supply the Fiend with fresh Employment : That's all , quoth Pug ; my poor Request Is , only never to have Rest ; You thought , 'tis like , with Reason too , That I should have been serv'd , not You : But what ? upon my Friend impose ! No — tho' a Devil , none of those . Your Business then , pray understand me , Is nothing more but to Command me . Of one thing only let me warn ye , Which somewhat nearly may concern ye : As soon as e'er one Work is done , Strait name a new one ; and so on ; Let each to other quick succeed , Or else — you know how 'tis agreed — For if thro' any Hums or Haws There haps an intervening Pause , In which , for Want of fresh Commands , Your Slave obsequious , Idle stands , Nor Soul nor Body ever more Shall serve the Nymph whom you adore ; But both be laid at Satan's Feet , To be dispos'd as he thinks meet . At once the Lover all approves : For who can hesitate that loves ? And thus he argues in his Thought : Why , after all , I venture nought ; What Mystery is in Commanding ? Does that require Much Understanding ? Indeed , wer't my Part to Obey , He'd go the better of the Lay : But he must do what I think fit — Pshaw , pshaw , young Belzebub is bit . Thus pleas'd in Mind , he calls a Chair ; Adjusts , and combs , and courts the Fair : The Spell takes Place , and all goes right , And happy he , employs the Night In sweet Embraces , balmy Kisses ; And riots in the Bliss of Blisses . O Joy , cry'd he , that hast no Equal ! But hold — no Raptures — mark the Sequel . For now , when near the Morning's Dawn , The Youth began as 'twere to yawn ; His Eyes a silky Slumber seiz'd , Or would have done , if Pug had pleas'd : But that officious Demon , near , Now buzz'd for Business in his Ear ; In Haste , he names a thousand Things : The Goblin plys his wicker Wings , And in a Trice returns to ask Another and another Task . Now , Palaces are built and Tow'rs , The Work of Ages in few Hours . Then , Storms are in an Instant rais'd , Which the next Moment are appeas'd . Now Show'rs of Gold and Gems are rain'd , As if each India had been drain'd : And He , in one astonish'd View , Sees both Golconda and Peru . These Things , and stranger Things than these , Were done with equal Speed and Ease . And now to Rome poor Pug he'll send : And Pug soon reach'd his Journey's End . And soon return'd with such a Pack Of Bulls and Pardons at his Back , That now , the Squire ( who had some Hope In holy Water and the Pope , ) Was out of Heart , and at a Stand What next to wish , and what command ; Invention flags , his Brain grows muddy , And black Despair succeeds brown Study . In this Distress the woful Youth Acquaints the Nymph with all the Truth , Begging her Counsel , for whose Sake Both Soul and Body were at Stake . And is this all ? replys the Fair ; Let me alone to cure this Care . When next your Demon shall appear , Pray give him — look , what I hold here . And bid him labour , soon or late , To lay these Ringlets lank and strait . Then , something scarcely to be seen , Her Finger and her Thumb between She held , and sweetly smiling , cry'd , Your Goblin's Skill shall now be try'd . She said ; and gave — what shall I call That Thing so shining , crisp and small , Which round his Finger strove to twine ? A Tendril of the Cyprian Vine ? Or Sprig from Cytherea's Grove ; Shade of the Labyrinth of Love ! With Awe , he now takes from her Hand That Fleece-like Flow'r of fairy Land : Less precious , whilom , was the Fleece Which drew the Argonauts from Greece ; Or that , which modern Ages see The Spur and Prize of Chivalry , Whose Curls of kindred Texture , grace Heroes and Kings of Spanish Race . The Spark prepar'd , and Pug at Hand , He issues , thus , his strict Command . This Line , thus Curve and thus Orbicular , Render direct , and perpendicular ; But so direct , that in no sort It ever may in Rings retort . See me no more 'till this be done : Hence , to thy Task — avaunt , be gone . Away the Fiend like Lightning flys , And all his Wit to Work applys : Anvils and Presses he employs , And dins whole Hell with hamm'ring Noise . In vain : he to no Terms can bring One Twire of that reluctant Thing ; Th' elastic Fibre mocks his Pains , And it's first spiral Form retains . New Stratagems the Sprite contrives , And down the Depths of Sea he dives : This Sprunt its Pertness sure will lose When laid ( said he ) to soak in Ooze . Poor foolish Fiend ! he little knew Whence Venus and her Garden grew . Old Ocean , with paternal Waves The Child of his own Bed receives ; Which oft as dipt new Force exerts , And in more vig'rous Curls reverts . So , when to Earth , Alcides flung The huge Antëus , whence he sprung , From ev'ry Fall fresh Strength he gain'd , And with new Life the Fight maintain'd . The bafled Goslin grows perplex'd , Nor knows what Sleight to practise next : The more he trys , the more he fails ; Nor Charm , nor Art , nor Force avails . But all concur his Shame to show , And more exasperate the Foe . And now he pensive turns and sad , And looks like melancholick mad . He rolls his Eyes now off , now on That wonderful Phenomenon . Sometimes he twists and twirls it round , Then , pausing , meditates profound : No End he sees of his Surprize , Nor what it should be can devise : For never yet was Wooll or Feather , That cou'd stand buff against all Weather ; And unrelax'd like this , resist Both Wind and Rain , and Snow and Mist . What Stuff , or whence , or how 'twas made , What Spinster Witch could spin such Thread , He nothing knew ; but to his Cost Knew all his Fame and Labour lost . Subdu'd , abash'd , he gave it o'er ; 'Tis said , he blush'd ; 'tis sure , he swore Not all the Wiles that Hell could hatch Could conquer that SUPERB MUSTACH . Defeated thus , thus discontent , Back to the Man the Demon went : I grant , quoth he , our Contract null , And give you a Discharge in full . But tell me now , in Name of Wonder , ( Since I so candidly knock under , ) What is this Thing ? Where could it grow ? Pray take it — 'tis in Statu quo . Much Good may't do you ; for my Part , I wash my Hands of't from my Heart . In Truth , Sir Goblin or Sir Fairy , Replys the Lad , you're too soon weary . What , leave this trifling Task undone ! And think'st Thou this the only one ? Alas ! were this subdu'd , thou'dst find Millions of more such still behind , Which might employ , ev'n to Eternity , Both you and all your whole Fraternity .