University of Virginia Library

The Impossibility, or, Old Nick Outwitted

A Tale—from La Fontaine

A devil once, as stories tell,
The most malicious fiend in hell
In solemn form of compact made
A bargain with an amorous blade:
The spark was by his aid to gain
A nymph for whom he sighed in vain;
Old Nick no recompense would have
But to remain his humble slave,
The youth was only to command
Whenever Satan was at hand,

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141

Nor must his orders be delayed
When smutty face his visit paid,
His sole condition was dispatch
For Satan's ever on the watch;
Herein, whene'er the lover faltered
The case should instantly be altered:
Old Nick might drag him to his hole
And roast his body with his soul.

Think of him and his horns appear:
Old Nick was straightway at his ear;
The lover sends him on an errand,
'Twas presently performed I warrant;
Whether to Italy or Spain
Satan was quickly back again.
Returned—our lover bids him go
And bring some gold from Mexico;
Then sends him off across the line
For jewels from Golconda's mine:
Behold, at once, a monstrous hoard
Of gold and jewels on the board!
Next sends to Canada for furs,
Satan was not in need of spurs:
A centaur's hide—a dragon's claw,
A mermaid's skin—a griffin's paw,
A craken's tooth—a phoenix' nest,
In turn, were instantly possessed.
“What! here again! Nay, this is Malice;
Go—build a temple or a palace.”
Not Pandemonium more quick
Was raised without the aid of brick.

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142

Our frighted lover now bethought him
That Satan in his trap had caught him;
For not a moment did he lose,
Nor leave the lover time to choose.
What service next to send him on
Before the last command was done.
The promised feast he scarce had tasted
And half the night in vain was wasted,
Nor could he hope by night or day
To keep the smutty fiend away,
And while he thought upon his talons
He lost all appetite for dalliance,
Thus with perpetual care oppressed
He to the nymph the whole confessed.

“And is this all!” she smiling said,
“That has our mutual Bliss delayed!
Here—bid him straighten this”—she cried,
“And lay your silly fears aside.”
Then put into his hand a hair
Which she had plucked the Lord knows where;
Whether from cushion, or from wig,
Or from stuffed hoop so round and big,
Or from her eyebrow, or from her temple,
'Tis certain it was but a sample;
As by the sequel will appear.
Old Nick was in a moment there;
For now he thought, that half an hour,
Would give his prey into his power.
“Here straighten this”—the lover cried,
Old Nick t'his mouth the hair applied:
The hair curled not a whit the less.
Ha! this won't do! We'll try a press.
A press, a vice, a weight in turn
He tries in vain—he's yet to learn;
He souses it into the ocean,
He might as well have drunk a potion.
In his own element he tries it,
Then on an anvil stoutly plies it;
Nor fire, nor water, press nor weight
Could make the curling tendril straight:

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143

'Tis vain to tamper with it longer
It only makes the buckle stronger.