Happy Valentine's Day!

I am feeling rather Romantic to-day.

So, in honor of the holiday, I am posting a classic example of Romantic Poetry from La Fontaine's 17th century contes et nouvelles en vers, Forbidden Fruit. This particular selection is titled: Hans Carvel's Ring and was translated by Guido Waldman. However, I have also included additional items below for the discerning individuals who may happen to read it and find it dull.

*******
When Hans Carvel took a wife, he was already in his dotage, to be truthful.
Whereas the girl was, seen from whichever angle, youthful.
This of course gave him more than enough to put him in a stew:
Such alliances generally do.
Babeau, to give the young female her name,
(She was the daughter of the local beak)
Was spunky, voluptuous, and by no definition tame,
And for bedtime grapplings she had absolutely the correct physique.
Now Carvel, with a natural aversion to cuckoldry and being made to look a fool,
Served up to the young creature a concoction or gruel
Taken from all the best texts, not forgetting legends and Holy Writ.
Secret trysts were, of course, one of those things that made him spit.
With all the impedimenta of temptation he proved censorious,
All those beauty tips and hints, so much instruction
Towards seduction
Left him feeling the reverse of euphorious.
If the little flirt was brought to heel by any such lecture
I'll leave you to conjecture--
The only talk she found that didn't tire her
Was sweet talk from an admirer.
Of course her not caring a feather
Had the poor man quite at the end of his tether;
I mean when you're that far down on your luck it
's enough to make a fellow want to kick the bucket.
However, in his aggrievement
He did come to his moment of relievement.
What follows may sound squalid,
But its veracity is rock-solid.
One night, after sitting down to a meal characterised by rude plenty,
And knocking back maybe one firkin more of the new vintage than he'd meant, he
Was in bed beside Babeau and snoring before you could count to twenty,
When he dreamed that there was Satan,
A-waitin'.
Satan, putting a ring on his finger, addressed him thus:
"Well, it seems, old chap, you've worked yourself into a bit of a fuss,
And I'm a soft touch, as you know.
Here, take this ring and never let it go:
For so long as you keep it tight
On your finger everything will come out right...
I mean, there'll be no risk of her bestowing it
Without your knowing it."
"Sir", said Carvel, "you have my gratitude
For such an understanding attitude;
So great's the favor that you have accorded,
I trust Your Bounteousness will be suitably rewarded."
With this, out from his sleep he started drifting
And as from his bleary eyes the veil was lifting,
O happy dreamer! say you. Not a jot:
He found his finger stuck in Babeau's ______.


******
And Now: Romantic Limericks!
******
A lady while dining at Crewe
Found an elephant's whang in her stew.
Said the waiter, "Don't shout,
And don't wave it about,
Or the others will all want one too."

There was a young fellow named Goody
Who claimed that he wouldn't, but would he?
If he found himself nude
With a gal in the mood,
The question's not woody but could he?

A young lady sat on a quay,
Just as proper as proper could be.
A young fellow goosed her,
And quickly seduced her,
So she thanked him and went home to tea.

A couple was fishing near Clombe
When the maid began looking quite glum,
And said, "Bother the fish!
I'd rather coish!"
Which they did -- which was why they had come.