Word5v\/Drf^ 
 
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 CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 THE 
 WORDSWORTH COLLECTION 
 
 FOUNDED BY 
 CYNTHIA MORGAN ST. JOHN 
 
 THE GIFT OF 
 VICTOR EMANUEL 
 
 OF THE CLASS OF I919 
 
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DON JUAN. 
 
 " Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be 
 no more cakes and ale ? — Yes, by St. Anne ; and ginger 
 shall be hot i' the mouth too V— Twelfth Night ; or What 
 yoi(, Will. Sha^speare. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. II. 
 
 LONDON: 
 THOMAS DAVISON, WHITEFRIARS. 
 
 MDCCCXXVIII. 
 
DON JUAN. 
 
 CANTO VII. 
 
 O Love ! O Glory ! what are ye who fly 
 
 Around us ever, rarely to ahght? 
 There's not a meteor in the polar sky 
 
 Of such transcendent and more fleeting flight. 
 Chill, and chain'd to cold earth, we hft on high 
 
 Our eyes in search of either lovely hght; 
 A thousand and a thousand colom-s they 
 Assume, then leave us on our freezing way. 
 
 II. 
 
 And such as tliey are, such my present tale is, 
 A non-descript and ever-varying rhyme, 
 
 A versified Aurora Borealis, 
 Which flashes o'er a waste and icy cUme. 
 
 When we know what all are, we must bewail us, 
 But ne'ertheless I hope it is no crime 
 
 To laugh at all things— for I wish to know 
 
 What, after all, are all things— but a shoiv ? 
 
 VOL. II. B 
 
2 DON JUAN. CANTO vii. 
 
 Hi. 
 
 They accuse me— Me— the present writer of 
 The present poem— of— I know not what— 
 
 A tendency to underrate and scoff 
 
 At human power and virtue, and all that; 
 
 And this they say in language rather rough. 
 Good God! I wonder what they would be at! 
 
 I say no more than hath been said in Dante's 
 
 Verse, and by Solomon and Cervantes; 
 
 By Swift, by Machiavel, by Rochefoucault, 
 By Fenelon, by Luther, and by Plato; 
 
 By TiUotson, and Wesley, and Rousseau, 
 Who knew this hfe was not worth a potato. 
 
 'Tis not their fault, nor mine, if this be so — 
 For my part, I pretend not to be Cato, 
 
 Nor even Diogenes. — We hve and die. 
 
 But which is best, you know no more than I. 
 
 Socrates said, our only knowledge was 
 
 '^^To know that nothing could be known;" a pleasant 
 Science enough, which levels to an ass 
 
 Each man of wisdom, future, past, or present. 
 Newton (that proverb of the mind), alas ! 
 
 Declared, with all his grand discoveries recent. 
 That he himself felt only "hke a youth 
 Picking up shells by the gi-eat ocean — Truth." 
 
CANTO VII. DON JUAN. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Ecclesiastes said, "that all is vanity"— 
 
 Most modern preachers say the same, or show it 
 
 By their examples of true Christianity: 
 
 In short, all know, or very soon may know it; 
 
 And in this scene of all-confess 'd inanity. 
 By saint, by sage, by preacher, and by poet. 
 
 Must I restrain me, through the fear of strife^ 
 
 From holding up the nothingness of hfe.^ 
 
 vu. 
 Dogs, or men ! (for I flatter you in saying 
 
 That ye are dogs — your betters far) ye may 
 Head, or read not, what I am now essaying 
 
 To show ye what ye are in every way. 
 As httle as the moon stops for the baying 
 
 Of wolves, wiU the bright muse withdraw one ray 
 From out her skies — then howl your idle wrath! 
 While she stOI silvers o'er your gloomy path. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 ^•' Fierce loves and faithless wars"^I am not sure 
 If this be the right reading — ^'tis no matter; 
 
 The fact's about the same, I am secure; 
 I sing them both, and am about to batter 
 
 A town which did a famous siege endure. 
 And was beleaguer'd both by land and water 
 
 By Souvaroff, or Anghce Suwarrow, 
 
 Who loved blood as an alderman loves marrow. 
 
 B 2 
 
4 DON JUAN. CANTO VII. 
 
 IX. 
 
 The fortress is call'd Ismail^ and is placed 
 
 Upon the Danube's left branch and left bank;, 
 
 With buildings in the oriental taste. 
 But still a fortress of the foremost rank;, 
 
 Or was at least, unless 'tis since defaced, 
 
 Which with your conquerors is a common prank : 
 
 It stands some eighty versts from the high sea. 
 
 And measures round of toises thousands three. 
 
 X. 
 
 ^Vithin the extent of this fortification 
 A borough is comprised along the height 
 
 Upon the left, which from its loftier station 
 Commands the city, and upon its site 
 
 A Greek had raised around this elevation 
 A quantity of palisades upright. 
 
 So placed as to impede the fire of those 
 
 'WTio held the place, and to assist the foe's. 
 
 XI. 
 
 This circumstance may serve to give a notion 
 Of the high talents of this new Vauban: 
 
 But the town ditch below was deep as ocean. 
 The rampart higher than you'd wish to hang: 
 
 But then there was a gi-eat want of precaution 
 (Prithee, excuse this engineering slang). 
 
 Nor work advanced, nor cover'd way was there. 
 
 To liint at least "Here is no thoroughfare." 
 
CANTO VII. DON JUAN. 
 
 XII. 
 
 But a stone bastion, with a narrow gorge, 
 And walls as thick as most skulls born as yet; 
 
 Two batteries, cap-a-pee, as our St. George, 
 Case-mated one, and t'other "a barbette," 
 
 Of Danube's bank took formidable charge; 
 While two and twenty cannon duly set 
 
 Rose over the town's right side, in bristling tier. 
 
 Forty feet high, upon a cavalier. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 But from the river the town's open quite. 
 Because the Turks could never be persuaded 
 
 A Russian vessel e'er would heave in sight; 
 
 And such their creed was, tUl they were invaded, 
 
 When it grew rather late to set things right. 
 But as the Danube could not weU be waded. 
 
 They look'd upon the Muscovite flotiUa, 
 
 And only shouted, "Allah!" and "Bis Millah!" 
 
 >. XIV. 
 
 The Russians now were ready to attack; 
 
 But oh, ye goddesses of war and glory ! 
 How shall I spell the name of each Cossacque 
 
 Who were immortal, could one teU their story .f* 
 Alas! what to their memory can lack.'' 
 
 Achilles' self was not more grim and gory 
 Than thousands of this new and pohsh'd nation. 
 Whose names want nothing but>— pronunciation. 
 
DON JUAN. CANTO VII. 
 
 Still I'll record a few, if but to increase 
 
 Our euphony— there was StrongenofF, and StrokonofF, 
 Meknop, Serge Lwdw, Arseniew of modern Greece, 
 
 And TschitsshakofF, and RoguenofF, and ChokenofF, 
 And others of twelve consonants a-piece; 
 
 And more might be found out, if I could poke enough 
 Into gazettes; but Fame (capricious strumpet), 
 It seems, has got an ear as well as trumpet, 
 
 XVI. 
 
 And cannot tune those discords of narration. 
 Which may be names at Moscow, into rhyme; 
 
 Yet there were several worth commemoration. 
 As e'er was virgin of a nuptial cliime; 
 
 Soft words too, fitted for the peroration 
 Of Londonderry, drawhng against time. 
 
 Ending in "ischskin," ''ousckin," "ifFskchy," "ouski," 
 
 Of whom we can insert but Rousamouski, 
 
 XVII. 
 
 ScherematofFand ChrematofF, Koklophti, 
 Koclobski, Kom-akin, and Mouskin Pouskin, 
 
 All proper men of weapons, as e'er scoflF'd high 
 Against a foe, or ran a sabre through skin: 
 
 Little cared they for Mahomet or Mufti, 
 
 Unless to make their kettle-drums a new skin 
 
 Out of their hides, if parchment had grown dear^ 
 
 And no more handy substitute been neai% 
 
CANTO VII. DON JUAN. 7 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Then there were foreigners of much renown. 
 
 Of various naticns;, and all volunteers; 
 Not fighting for their country or its crown. 
 
 But wishing to be one day brigadiers: 
 Also to have the sacking of a town ; 
 
 A pleasant thing to young men at their years. 
 'Mongst them were several Englishmen of pith. 
 Sixteen caU'd Thomson, and nineteen named Smith. I 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Jack Thomson and BiU Thomson ; — all the rest 
 Had been call'd "Jemmy" after the great bard; 
 
 I don 't know whether they had arms or crest, 
 But such a godfather's as good a card. 
 
 Three of the Smiths were Peters; but the best 
 Amongst them all, hard blows to inflict or ward. 
 
 Was he, since so renown'd "in country quarters 
 
 At Hahfax;" but now he served the Tartars. 
 
 XX. 
 
 The rest were Jacks and Gills and Wills and Bills; 
 
 But when I've added that the elder Jack Smith 
 Was born in Cumberland among the hills. 
 
 And that his father was an honest blacksmith, 
 I 've said all / know of a name that fills 
 
 Three hues of the despatch in taking '^'^ Schmacksmith," 
 A village of Moldavia's waste, wherein 
 He fell^ immortal in a bulletin. 
 
8 DON JUAN. CANTO VII. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 I wonder (although Mars no doubt's a god I 
 
 Praise) if a man's name in a bulletin 
 May make up for a bullet in his body.'' 
 
 I hope this Httle question is no sin. 
 Because, though I am but a simple noddy, 
 
 I think one Shakspeare puts the same thought in 
 The mouth of some one in his plays so doting. 
 Which many people pass for wife by quoting. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Then there were Frenchmen, gallant, young, and gay: 
 
 But I 'm too great a patriot to record 
 Their Gallic names upon a glorious day; 
 
 I'd rather tell ten Kes than say a word 
 Of truth; — such truths are treason; they betray 
 
 Their country; and as traitors are abhorr'd 
 Who name the French in Enghsh, save to show 
 How Peace should make John Bull the Frenchman's foe. 
 
 The Russians, having built two batteries on 
 An isle near Ismail, had two ends in view; 
 
 The first was to bombard it, and knock down 
 The pubhc buildings and the private too. 
 
 No matter what poor souls might be undone. 
 The city's shape suggested this, 'tis true; 
 
 Form'd Uke an amphitheatre, each dwelling 
 
 Presented a fine mark to throw a shell in. 
 
CANTO VTi. DON JUAN. 9 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 The second object was to profit by 
 
 The moment of the general consternation^ 
 
 To attack the Turk's flotilla, which lay nigh 
 Extremely tranquilj, anchor'd at its station: 
 
 But a third motive was as probably 
 To frighten them into capitulation; 
 
 A phantasy which sometimes seizes warriors, 
 
 Unless they are game as bvLU-dogs and fox-terriers. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 A habit rather blamable, which is 
 
 That of despising those we combat with. 
 
 Common in many cases, was in this 
 
 The cause of killing Tchitchitzkoflf and Smith; 
 
 One of the valorous " Smiths" whom we shall miss 
 ^ut of those nineteen who late rhymed to "pith;" 
 
 But 'tis a name so spread o'er "Sir" and "Madam," 1 
 
 That one would think the first who bore it "Adam." I 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 The Russian batteries were incomplete, 
 Because they were constructed in a hurry; 
 
 Thus the same cause which makes a verse want feet. 
 And throws a cloud o'er Longman and John Murray, 
 
 When the sale of new books is not so fleet 
 As they who print them think is necessary. 
 
 May likewise put off for a time what story 
 
 Sometimes calls "murder," and at others "glory." 
 
10 DON JUAN. CANTO VII. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Whether it was their engineer's stupidity. 
 
 Their haste, or waste, I neither know nor care. 
 
 Or some contractor's personal cupidity. 
 Saving his soul by cheating in the ware 
 
 Of homicide, but there was no sohdity 
 In the new batteries erected there; 
 
 They either miss'd, or they were never miss'd. 
 
 And added greatly to the missing hst. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 A sad miscalculation about distance 
 Made all their naval matters incorrect; 
 
 Three fireships lost their amiable existence 
 Before they reach'd a spot to take effect: 
 
 The match was ht too soon, and no assistance 
 Could remedy this lubberly defect; 
 
 They blew up in the middle of the river, 
 
 While, though 'twas dawn, the Turks slept fast as ever. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 At seven they rose, however, and survey'd 
 
 The Russ flotilla getting under way; 
 'Twas nine, when stiU advancing undismay'd. 
 
 Within a cable's length their vessels lay 
 Off Ismail, and commenced a cannonade. 
 
 Which was return'd with interest, I may say. 
 And by a fire of musketry and grape. 
 And shells and shot of every size and shape. 
 
CANTO VII. DON JUAN. ] 1 
 
 XXX. 
 
 For six hours bore they without intermission 
 The Turkish fire, and aided by their own 
 
 Land batteries, work'd their guns with great precision : 
 At length they found mere cannonade alone 
 
 By no means would produce the town's submission, 
 And made a signal to retreat at one. 
 
 One bark blew up, a second near the works 
 
 Running agromid, was taken by the Turks. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 The Moslem too had lost both ships and men; 
 
 But when they saw the enemy retire. 
 Their Delhis mann d some boats, and sail'd again, 
 
 And gall'd the Russians with a heavy fire. 
 And tried to make a landing on the main ; 
 
 But here the effect fell short of their desire: 
 Count Damas drove them back into the water 
 Pell mell, and with a whole gazette of slaughter. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 "If" (says the historian here) "I could report 
 All that the Russians did upon this day, 
 
 I think that several volumes would fall short. 
 And I should stiU have many things to say ;" 
 
 And so he says no more — but pays his court 
 To some distinguish'd strangers in that fray; 
 
 The Prince de Ligne, and Langeron, and Damas, 
 
 Names great as any that the roU of Fame has. 
 
12 DON JUAN. CANTO YII. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 This being the case, may show us what fame is : 
 For out of these three "preux Chevaliers," how 
 
 Many of common readers give a guess 
 That such existed? (and they may Uve now 
 
 For aught we know.) Renown 's all hit or miss; 
 There's fortune even in fame^ we must allow. 
 
 'Tis true^ the Memoirs of the Prince de Ligne 
 
 Have half withdrawn from him oblivion's screen. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 But here are men who fought in gallant actions 
 
 As gallantly as ever heroes fought^ 
 But buried in the heap of such transactions 
 
 Their names are rarely found, nor often sought. 
 Thus even good fame may suffer sad contractions, 
 
 And is extinguish'd sooner than she ought: 
 Of all our modern battles, I will bet 
 You can't repeat nine names from each Gazette. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 In short, this last attack, though rich in glory, 
 
 Show'd that somewhere, somehow, there was a fault, 
 
 And Admiral Ribas (known in Russian story) 
 Most strongly recommended an assault; 
 
 In which he was opposed by young and hoary. 
 Which made a long debate; but I must halt, 
 
 For if I wrote down every warrior's speech, 
 
 I doubt few readers e'er would mount the breach. 
 
CANTO VII. DON JUAN. 13 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 There was a man, if that he was a man, 
 
 Not that his manhood could be caU'd in question, 
 
 For had he not been Hercules, his span 
 Had been as short in youth as indigestion 
 
 Made his last iUness, when, all worn and wan. 
 He died beneath a tree, as much unblest on 
 
 The soil of the green province he had wasted. 
 
 As e'er was locust on the land it blasted. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 This was Potemkin — a great thing in days 
 "When homicide and harlotry made great ; 
 
 If stars and titles could entaU long praise. 
 His glory might half equal his estate. 
 
 This fellow, being six foot high, could raise 
 A kind of phantasy proportionate 
 
 In the then sovereign of the Russian people, 
 
 Who measured men as you would do a steeple. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 "WTiile things were in abeyance, Ribas sent 
 A courier to the prince, and he succeeded 
 
 In ordering matters after his own bent; 
 1 cannot teU the way in which he pleaded. 
 
 But shortly he had cause to be content. 
 In the mean ti'me, the batteries proceeded. 
 
 And fourscore cannon on the Danube's border 
 
 Were briskly fired and answer'd in due order. 
 
14 DON JUAN. CANTO VII. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 But on the thirteenth, when aheady part 
 
 Of the troops were embark'd, the siege to raise, 
 
 A courier on the spur inspired new heart 
 Into all panters for newspaper praise. 
 
 As well as dilettanti in war's art. 
 
 By his despatches couch'd in pithy praise; 
 
 Announcing the appointment of that lover of 
 
 Battles to the command. Field Marshal SouvarofF. 
 
 XL. 
 
 The letter of the prince to the same marshal 
 Was worthy of a Spartan, had the cause 
 
 Been one to which a good heart could be partial — 
 Defence of freedom, country, or of laws; 
 
 But as it was mere lust of power to o'er-arch aU 
 With its proud brow, it merits shght applause. 
 
 Save for its style, which said, all in a trice, 
 
 "You will take IsmaU at whatever price." 
 
 XLI. 
 
 "Let there be light ! said God, and there was Ught!" 
 "Let there be blood!" says man, and there's a sea! 
 
 The fiat of this spoil'd child of the Night 
 (For Day ne'er saw his merits) could decree 
 
 More evil in an hour, than thirty bright 
 
 Summers could renovate, though they should be 
 
 Lovely as those which ripen'd Eden's fruit; 
 
 For war cuts up not only branch, but root/ 
 
CANTO VII. DON JUAN. 1 
 
 XLII. 
 
 Our friends the Turks^ who with loud "AJlahs" now 
 
 Began to signalize the Russ retreat^, 
 Were damnably mistaken; few are slow 
 
 In thinking that their enemy is beat 
 (Or beaten, if you insist on grammar, though 
 
 I never think about it in a heat), 
 But here I say the Turks were much mistaken. 
 Who hating hogs, yet wish'd to save their bacon. j 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 For, on the sixteenth, at full gallop, drew 
 
 In sight two horsemen, who were deem'd Cossacques 
 
 For some time, tiU they came in nearer view. 
 They had but little baggage at their backs. 
 
 For there were but three shirts between the two; 
 But on they rode upon two Ukraine hacks, 
 
 TiU, in approaching, were at length descried 
 
 In this plain pair, Suwarrow and his guide. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 "Great joy to London now!" says some great fool, 
 When London had a grand illumination. 
 
 Which to that bottle-conjuror, John Bidl, 
 Is of all dreams the first hallucination; 
 
 So that the streets of colour'd lamps are fuU, 
 That Sage {said John) surrenders at discretion 
 
 His purse, his soul, his sense, and even his nonsense. 
 
 To gratify, Uke a huge moth, this one sense. 
 
16 DON JUAN. CANTO vii. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 'Tis strange that he should farther "damn his eyes/' 
 For they are damn'd; that once all-famous oath 
 
 Is to the devil now no farther prize. 
 
 Since John has lately lost the use of both. 
 
 Debt he calls wealth, and taxes Paradise; 
 
 And Famine, with her gaunt and bony growth. 
 
 Which stare him in the face, he won't examine, 
 
 Or swears that Ceres hath begotten Famine. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 But to the tale;— great joy unto the camp! 
 
 To Russian, Tartar, Enghsh, French, Cossacque, 
 O'er whom Suwarrow shone hke a gas lamp. 
 
 Presaging a most luminous attack; 
 Or like a wisp along the marsh so damp, 
 
 ^Vhich leads beholders on a boggy walk. 
 He flitted to and fro a dancing hght. 
 Which all who saw it foUow'd, wrong or right. 
 
 xiiVn. 
 
 But certes matters took a different face; 
 
 There was enthusiasm and much applause. 
 The fleet and camp saluted with great grace. 
 
 And all presaged good fortune to their cause. 
 Within a cannon-shot length of the place 
 
 They di-ew, constructed ladders, repair'd flaws 
 In former works, made new, prepared fascines 
 And aU kinds of benevolent machines, 
 t 
 
CANTO VII. DON JUAN. 17 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 'Tis thus the spirit of a single mind \ 
 
 Makes that of multitudes take one direction. 
 
 As roU the waters to the breathing wind, | 
 
 Or roams the herd beneath the bull's protection ; 
 
 Or as a httle dog will lead the bhnd. 
 
 Or a beU- wether form the flock's connexion 
 
 By tinlding sounds, when they go forth to victual; 
 
 Such is the sway of your great men o'er httle. 
 
 SLIX. 
 
 The whole camp rungwith joy ; you would have thought 
 That they were going to a marriage feast 
 
 (This metaphor, I think, holds good as aught, 
 Since there is discord after both at least) : 
 
 There was not now a luggage boy but sought 
 Danger and spoil with ardour much increased; 
 
 And why? because a httle— odd — old man, 
 
 Stript to his shirt, was come to lead the van. 
 
 But so it was; and every preparation 
 Was made with aU alacrity : the first 
 
 Detachment of three columns took its station, 
 And waited but the signal's voice to burst 
 
 Upon the foe : the second's ordination 
 Was also in three columns, with a thirst 
 
 For glory gaping o'er a sea of slaughter : 
 
 The third, in columns two, attack'd by water. 
 
 VOL. II. - c 
 
18 DON JUAN. CANTO vii. 
 
 LI. 
 
 New batteries were erected, and was held 
 A general council, in which unanimity. 
 
 That stranger to most councils, here prevail'd. 
 As sometimes happens in a great extremity; 
 
 And every difficulty being dispell'd, 
 
 Glory began to dawn with due subhmity. 
 
 While SouvarofF, determined to obtain it. 
 
 Was teaching his recruits to use the bayonet *. 
 
 LII. 
 
 It is an actual fact, that he, commander 
 In chief, in proper person deign'd to drill 
 
 The awkward squad, and could afford to squander 
 His time, a corporal's duty to fulfil; 
 
 Just as you 'd break a sucking salamander 
 To swallow flame, and never take it ill : 
 
 He show'd them how to mount a ladder (which 
 
 Was not Uke Jacob's) or to cross a ditch. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 Also he dress'd up, for the nonce, fascines 
 Like men with turbans, scimitars, and dirks. 
 
 And made them charge with bayonet these machines. 
 By way of lesson against actual Tm-ks; 
 
 And when well practised in these mimic scenes 
 He judged them proper to assail the works • 
 
 At which your wise men sneer'd in phrases witty : 
 
 He made no answer; but he took the city. 
 
 * Fact: Souvaroff did this in person. 
 
CANTO VII. DON JUAN. 19 
 
 LIV. 
 
 Most things were in this posture on the eve 
 Of the assault, and all the camp was in 
 
 A stern repose; which you would scarce conceive; 
 Yet men resolved to dash through thick and thin 
 
 Are very sUent when they once believe 
 That all is settled: — there was Uttle din. 
 
 For some were thinking of their home and friends, 
 
 And others of themselves and latter ends. 
 
 LV. 
 
 Suwarrow chiefly was on the alert. 
 
 Surveying, drilling, ordering, jesting, pondering; 
 For the man was, we safely may assert, 
 
 A thing to wonder at beyond most wondering; 
 Hero, buffoon, half-demon, and half-dirt. 
 
 Praying, instructing, desolating, plundering; 
 Now Mars, now Momus; and when bent to storm 
 A fortress. Harlequin in uniform. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 The day before the assault, while upon drill— 
 
 For this great conqueror play'd the corporal- 
 Some Cossacques, hovering Uke hawks round a hill, 
 
 Had met a party towards the twilight's fall. 
 One of whom spoke their tongue— or well or iU, 
 
 'Twas much that he was understood at all; 
 But whether from his voice, or speech, or manner. 
 They found that he had fought beneath their banner. 
 
 c2 
 
20 DON JUAN. c^^"^<^ V"- 
 
 Whereon immediately at his request 
 
 They brought him and his comrades to head-quarters; 
 Their dress was Moslem, but you might have guess'd 
 
 That these were merely masquerading Tartars, 
 And that beneath each Turkish-fashioned vest 
 
 Lurk'd Christianity; which sometimes barters 
 Her inward grace for outward show, and makes 
 It difficult to shun some strange mistakes. 
 
 Lvni. 
 Suwarrow, who was standing in his shirt 
 
 Before a company of Cahnucks, drilling. 
 Exclaiming, fooling, swearing at the inert. 
 
 And lecturing on the noble art of killing, — 
 For deeming human clay but common dirt, 
 
 This great philosopher was thus instiUing 
 His maxims, which to martial comprehension 
 Proved death in battle equal to a pension; — 
 
 LIX. 
 
 Suwarrow, when he saw this company 
 
 Of Cossacques and their prey, turn'd round and cast 
 Upon them his slow brow and piercing eye: — 
 
 "Whence come ye?"— "From Constantinople last. 
 Captives just now escaped," was the reply. 
 
 "What are ye?"— "What you see us." Briefly pass'd 
 This dialogue; for he who answer d knew 
 To whom he spoke, and made his words but few. 
 
CANTO vji. DON JUAN. 21 
 
 LX. 
 
 "Your names?" — "Mine's Johnson, and my comrade's 
 The other two are women, and the third []Juan ; 
 
 Is neither man nor woman." The chief threw on 
 The party a shght glance, then said: "I have heard 
 
 Your name before, the second is a new one: 
 To bring the other three here was absurd: 
 
 But let that pass: — I think I have heard your name 
 
 In the Nikolaiew regiment?" — "The same." 
 
 LXI. 
 
 " You served at Widin ?"— " Yes."—" You led the attack ? " 
 "I did." — "What next?" — "I reaUy hardly know." 
 
 "You were the first i'the breach?" — "I was not slack • 
 At least to follow those who might be so." 
 
 "What foUow'd?" — "A shot laid me on my back. 
 And I became a prisoner to the foe." 
 
 "You shall have vengeance, for the town surrounded 
 
 Is twice as strong as that where you were wounded. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 "Where will you serve?"— "Where'er you please."— "I 
 You like to be the hope of the forlorn, [^know 
 
 And doubtless would be foremost on the foe 
 After the hardships you 've aheady borne. 
 
 And this young feUow— say what can he do? 
 He with the beardless chin and garments torn?" 
 
 " WTiy, general, if he hath no greater fault 
 
 In war than love, he had better lead the assault," 
 
22 DOiN JUAN. CANTON VII. 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 " He shall if that he dare." Here Juan bow'd 
 Low as the compliment deserved. SuvFarrow 
 
 Continued: "Your old regiment's allow'd. 
 By special providence, to lead to-morrow. 
 
 Or it may be to-night, the assault: I have vow'd 
 To several saints, that shortly plough or harrow 
 
 Shall pass o'er what was IsmaU, and its tusk 
 
 Be unimpeded by the proudest mosque. 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 "So now, my lads, for glory!" — Here he turn'd 
 And drill'd away in the most classic Russian, 
 
 Until each high, heroic bosom bum'd 
 
 For cash and conquest, as if from a cushion 
 
 A preacher had held forth (who nobly spurn'd 
 
 All earthly goods save tithes) and bade them push on 
 
 To slay the Pagans who resisted, battering 
 
 The armies of the Christian Empress Catherine. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 Johnson, who knew by this long colloquy 
 Himself a favourite, ventured to address 
 
 Suwarrow, though engaged with accents high 
 In his resmned amusement. "I confess 
 
 My debt in being thus allow'd to die 
 
 Among the foremost; but if you'd express 
 
 ExpUcitly our sever^ posts, my friend 
 
 And self would know what duty to attend." 
 
CANTO VII. DON JUAN. 23 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 "Right! I was busy, and forgot. Why, you 
 
 Will join youi- former regiment, which should be 
 
 Now imder arms. Ho! KatskofF, take him ta— 
 (Here he call'd up a Polish orderly) 
 
 His post, I mean the regiment Nikolaiew: 
 The stranger stripling may remain with me; 
 
 He's a fine boy. The women may be sent 
 
 To the other baggage, or to the sick tent." 
 
 Lxvn. 
 But here a sort of scene began to ensue: 
 
 The ladies, — who by no means had been bred 
 To be disposed of in a way so new, 
 
 Although their haram education led 
 Doubtless to that of doctrines the most true. 
 
 Passive obedience,^now raised up the head. 
 With flashing eyes and starting tears, and flung 
 Their arms, as hens their wings about their young, 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 O'er the promoted couple of brave men 
 
 Who were thus honour'd by the greatest chief 
 
 That ever peopled hell with heroes slain. 
 Or plunged a province or a realm in grief. 
 
 Oh, foolish mortals! Always taught in vain! 
 Oh, glorious laurel! since for one sole leaf 
 
 Of thine imaginary deathless tree, 
 
 Of blood and tears must flow the unebbing sea. 
 
24 DON JUAN. CANTO VII. 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 SuwarroWj who had small regard for tears^ 
 And not much sympathy for blood;, survey'd 
 
 The women with their hair about their ears 
 And natural agonies, with a slight shade 
 
 Of feeUng: for however habit sears 
 
 Men's hearts against whole millionsj, when their trade 
 
 Is butchery, sometimes a single sorrow 
 
 Will touch even heroes — and such was Suwarrow. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 He said, — ^and in the kindest Calmuck tone, — 
 "Why, Johnson, what the devil do you mean 
 
 By bringing women here? They shall be shown 
 All the attention possible, and seen 
 
 In safety to the waggons, where alone 
 
 In fact they can be safe. You should have been 
 
 Aware this kind of baggage never thrives: 
 
 Save wed a year, I hate recruits with wives." 
 
 LSXI. 
 
 " May it please your excellency," thus rephed 
 
 Our British friend, "these are the wives of others. 
 
 And not om- own. I am too quahfied 
 By service with my military brothers 
 
 To break the rules by bringing one's own bride 
 Into a camp: I know that nought so bothers 
 
 The hearts of the heroic on a charge. 
 
 As leaving a small family at large. 
 
CANTO VII. DON JUAN. i 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 "But these are but two Turkish ladies, who 
 With their attendant aided our escape. 
 
 And afterwards accompanied us through 
 A thoiisand perils in this dubious shape. 
 
 To me this kind of Ufe is not so new; 
 
 To them, poor things, it is an awkward step: 
 
 I therefore, if you wish me to fight freely. 
 
 Request that they may both be used genteelly." 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 Meantime these two poor girls, with swimming eyes, 
 Look'd on as if in doubt if they could trust 
 
 Their own protectors; nor was their surprise 
 Less than their grief (and truly not less just) 
 
 To see an old man, rather wUd than wise 
 In aspect, plainly clad, besmeared with dust, 
 
 Stript to his waistcoat, and that not too clean, 
 
 More fear'd than all the siiltans ever seen. 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 For every thing seem'd resting on his nod. 
 As they could read in aU eyes. Now to them. 
 
 Who were accustom'd, as a sort of god. 
 To see the sultan, rich in many a gem. 
 
 Like an imperial peacock stalk abroad 
 (That royal bird, whose tail 's a diadem), 
 
 With aU the pomp of power, it was a doubt 
 
 How power could condescend to do without. 
 
26 DON JUAN. <^ANTO VII. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 John Johnson, seeing their extreme dismay. 
 Though little versed in feelings oriental. 
 
 Suggested some slight comfort in his vray: 
 Don Juan, who was much more sentimental. 
 
 Swore they should see him by the dawn of day. 
 Or that the Russian army should repent all: 
 
 And, strange to say, they found some consolation 
 
 In this— for females like exaggeration. 
 
 LXXVI, 
 
 And then with tears, and sighs, and some slight kisses, 
 They parted for the present — these to await. 
 
 According to the artOlery's hits or misses. 
 
 What sages call Chance, Providence, or Fate — 
 
 (Uncertainty is one of many blisses, 
 A mortgage on Humanity's estate) — 
 
 "While their beloved friends began to arm, 
 
 To burn a town which never did them harm. 
 
 Lxxvn. 
 Suwarrow, — who but saw things in the gross. 
 
 Being much too gross to see them in detail, 
 WTio calculated life as so much dross. 
 
 And as the wind a widow'd nation's wail. 
 And cared as little for his army's loss 
 
 (So that their efforts should at length prevail) 
 
 As wife and friends did for the boils of Job ■ 
 
 What was't to him to hear two women sob? 
 
CANTO vu, DON JUAN. 27 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 Nothing.— The work of glory still went on 
 
 In preparations for a cannonade 
 As terrible as that of Ilion, 
 
 If Homer had found mortars ready made; 
 But now, instead of slaying Priam's son, 
 
 We only can but talk of escalade, 
 Bombs, drums, guns, bastions, batteries, bayonets, bullets; 
 Hard words, which stick in the soft Muses' gullets. 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 Oh, thou eternal Homer! who couldst charm 
 All ears, though long; aU ages, though so short. 
 
 By merely wielding with poetic arm 
 
 Arms to which men will never more resort. 
 
 Unless gunpowder should be found to harm 
 Much less than is the hope of every court, 
 
 Which now is leagued young Freedom to annoy ; 
 
 But they will not find Liberty a Troy:— 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 Oh, thou eternal Homer! I have now 
 
 To paint a siege, wherein more men were slain, 
 
 With deadlier engines and a speedier blow. 
 Than in thy Greek gazette of that campaign; 
 
 And yet, hke all men else, I must allow. 
 To vie with thee would be about as vain 
 
 As for a brook to cope v^dth ocean's flood; 
 
 But still we modems equal you in blood; 
 
28 DON JUAN. CANTO VII. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 If not in poetry;, at least in fact ; 
 
 And fact is truth, the grand desideratum ! 
 Of which, howe'er the Muse describes each act. 
 
 There should be ne'ertheless a slight substratum. 
 But now the town is going to be attack'd; 
 
 Great deeds are doing — ^how shall I relate 'em ? 
 Souls of immortal generals ! Phoebus watches 
 To colour up his rays from your despatches. 
 
 Oh, ye great bulletins of Bonaparte! 
 
 Oh, ye less grand long Usts of IdU'd and woimded! 
 Shade of Leonidas, who fought so hearty. 
 
 When my poor Greece was once, as now, siirrounded! 
 Oh, Caesar's Commentaries! now impart, ye 
 
 Shadows of glory ! (lest I be confounded) 
 A portion of your fading twilight hues. 
 So beautiful, so fleeting, to the Muse. 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 When I call "fading" martial immortality, 
 I mean, that every age and every year. 
 
 And almost every day, in sad reality. 
 Some sucking hero is compeU'd to rear. 
 
 Who, when we come to sum up the totality 
 Of deeds to human happiness most dear. 
 
 Turns out to be a butcher in great business. 
 
 Afflicting young folks with a sort of dizziness. 
 
CANTO VII. DON JUAN. ' 29 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 Medals, ranks, ribands, lace, embroidery, scarlet. 
 Are things immortal to immortal man, 
 
 As purple to the Babylonian harlot: 
 An uniform to boys is hke a fan 
 
 To women; there is scarce a crimson varlet 
 But deems himself the first in Glory's van. 
 
 But Glory 's glory; and if you would find 
 
 What that is — ask the pig who sees the wind ! 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 At least he feels it, and some say he sees, 
 
 Because he runs before it Hke a pig; 
 Or, if that simple sentence should displease. 
 
 Say, that he scuds before it hke a brig, 
 A schooner, or — but it is time to ease 
 
 This Canto, ere my Muse perceives fatigue. 
 The next shall ring a peal to shake all people. 
 Like a bob-major from a village steeple. 
 
 liXXXVI. 
 
 Hark! through the silence of the cold, duU night, 
 The hum of armies gathering rank on rank! 
 
 Lo ! dusky masses steal in dubious sight 
 Along the leaguer'd wall and bristhng bank 
 
 Of the arm'd river, while with stragghng light 
 The stars peep through the vapours dim and dank, 
 
 Which curl in curious wreaths— How soon the smoke 
 
 Of Hell shah pall them in a deeper cloak! 
 
30 DON JUAN. CANTO vii. 
 
 liXXXVII. 
 
 Here pause we for the present— as even then 
 That awful pause, dividing hfe from death. 
 
 Struck for an instant on the hearts of men. 
 
 Thousands of whom were drawing their last breath! 
 
 A moment— and aU will be life again! 
 
 The march! the charge! the shouts of either faith! 
 
 Hurra! and Allah! and — one moment ftiore— 
 
 The death-cry drowning in the battle's roar. 
 
DON JUAN. 
 
 CANTO VIII. 
 
 I. 
 Oh blood and thunder! and oh blood and wounds! 
 
 These are but vtdgar oaths, as you may deem, 
 Too gentle reader! and most shocking sounds: 
 
 And so they are; yet thus is Glory's dream 
 Unriddled, and as my true Muse expounds 
 
 At present such things, since they are her theme. 
 So be they her inspirers! Call them Mars, 
 Bellona, what you will — they mean but wars. 
 
 II. 
 All was prepared — the fire, the sword, the men 
 
 To wield them in their terrible array. 
 The army, Uke a Hon from his den, 
 
 March'd forth with nerve and sinews bent to slay,- 
 A human Hydra, issuing from its fen 
 
 To breathe destruction on its winding way, 
 Whose heads were heroes, which cut off in vain 
 Immediately in others grew again. 
 
32 DON JUAN. CANTO Via. 
 
 III. 
 
 History can only take things in the gross; 
 
 But could we know them in detail, perchance 
 In balancing the profit and the loss, 
 
 War's merit it by no means might enhance, 
 To waste so much gold for a Uttle dross. 
 
 As hath been done, mere conquest to advance. 
 The drying up a single tear has more 
 Of honest fame, than shedding seas of gore. 
 
 And why.^ — ^because it brings self-approbation; 
 
 Wliereas the other, after all its glare. 
 Shouts, bridges, arches, pensions from a nation, 
 
 Which (it may be) has not much left to spare, 
 A higher title, or a loftier station. 
 
 Though they may make Corruption gape or stare. 
 Yet, in the end, except in freedom's battles. 
 Are nothing but a child of Murder's rattles. 
 
 And such they are — and such they wOl be found: 
 
 Not so Leonidas and Washington, 
 \^Tiose every battle-field is holy ground, 
 
 Which breathes of nations saved, not worlds undona 
 How sweetly on the ear such echoes sound! 
 
 ^yiiile the mere victor's may appal or stun 
 The servile and the vain, such names will be 
 A watchword tiU the future shall be free. 
 
CANTO VIII. DON JUAN. 33 
 
 VI. 
 
 The night was dark, and the thick mist allow'd \ 
 
 Nought to be seen save the artillery's flame. 
 
 Which arch'd the horizon Uke a fiery cloud. 
 And in the Danube's waters shone the same — 
 
 A mirror'd HeU! the volleying roar, and loud 
 Long booming of each peal on peal, o'ercame 
 
 The ear far more than thunder; for Heaven's flashes 
 
 Spare, or smite rarely — Man's make millions ashes ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 The CQlumn order'd on the assault scarce pass'd 
 Beyond the Russian batteries a few toises. 
 
 When up the bristling Moslem rose at last. 
 
 Answering the Christian thunders with like voices; 
 
 Then one vast fire, air, earth, and stream embraced. 
 Which rock'd as 'twere beneath the mighty noises ; 
 
 While the whole rampart blazed Uke Etna, when 
 
 The restless Titan liiccups in his den. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 And one enormous shout of "AUah!" rose 
 In the same moment, loud as even the roar 
 
 Of war's most mortal engines, to their foes 
 Hurhng defiance: city, stream, and shore 
 
 Resounded ''Allah!" and the clouds which close 
 With thick'ning canopy the conflict o'er. 
 
 Vibrate to the Eternal name. Hark! through 
 
 All sounds it pierceth "AUah! AUah! Hu!"(i) 
 
 VOL. II. D 
 
34 DON JUAN. c^nto viii. 
 
 IX. 
 
 The columns were in movement one and aU^ 
 But of the portion which attack'd by water. 
 
 Thicker than leaves the Uves began to fall, 
 
 Though led by Arseniew, that great son of slaughter, 
 
 As brave as ever faced both bomb and ball, [^daughter:" (2) 
 "Carnage" (so Wordsworth tells you) "is God's 
 
 If he speak truth, she is Christ's sister, and 
 
 Just now behaved as in the Holy Land. 
 
 The Prince de Ligne was wounded in the knee; 
 
 Count Chapeau-Bras too had a baU between 
 His cap and head, which proves the head to be 
 
 Aristocratic as was ever seen. 
 Because it then received no injury 
 
 More than the cap; in fact, the ball could mean 
 No harm unto a right legitimate head: 
 "Ashes to ashes"— why not lead to lead.^ 
 
 XI. 
 
 Also the General Markow, Brigadier, 
 
 Insisting on removal of the prince 
 Amidst some groaning thousands dying near, — 
 
 All common feUows, who might writhe and wince, 
 And shriek for water into a deaf ear, — 
 
 The General Markow, who could thus evince 
 His sympathy for rank, by the same token. 
 To teach him greater, had his own leg broken. 
 
CANTO VIII. DON JUAN. 35 
 
 XII. 
 
 Three hundred cannon threw up their emetic. 
 And thirty thousand muskets flung their pUls 
 
 Like hail, to make a bloody diuretic. 
 MortaUty! thou hast thy monthly bills; 
 
 Thy plagues, thy famines, thy physicians, yet tick, 
 Like the death-watch, within our ears the iUs 
 
 Past, present, and to come;— but aU may yield 
 
 To the true portrait of one battle-field. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 There the stiQ varying pangs, which multiply 
 Until their very number makes men hard 
 
 By the infinities of agony. 
 
 Which meet the gaze, whate'er it may regard — 
 
 The groan, the roll in dust, the all-white eye 
 Turn'd back within its socket, — these reward 
 
 Your rank and file by thousands, while the rest 
 
 May win perhaps a riband at the breast! 
 
 Yet I love glory;— glory's a great thing:— 
 Think what it is to be in your old age 
 
 Marntain'd at the expense of your good king: 
 A moderate pension shakes full many a sage. 
 
 And heroes are but made for bards to sing. 
 Which is still better; thus in verse to wage 
 
 Your wars eternally, besides enjoying 
 
 Half-pay for hfe, make mankind worth destroying 
 
 D 2 
 
36 DON JUAN. canto vm. 
 
 XV. 
 
 The troops, already disembark'd, push'd on 
 To take a battery on the right; the others, 
 
 "WTio landed lower down, their landing done. 
 Had set to work as briskly as their brothers: 
 
 Being gi-enadiers, they mounted one by one. 
 
 Cheerful as children cUmb the breasts of mothers, 
 
 O'er the entrenchment and the paUsade, 
 
 Quite orderly, as if upon parade. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 And this was admirable; for so hot 
 
 The fire was, that were red Vesuvius loaded. 
 
 Besides its lava, with aU sorts of shot 
 
 And shells or hells, it coidd not more have goaded. 
 
 Of officers a third fell on the spot, 
 
 A thing which victory by no means boded 
 
 To gentlemen engaged in the assault: 
 
 Hounds, when the huntsman tumbles, are at fault. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 But here I leave the general concern. 
 To track our hero on his path of fame: 
 
 He must his laurels separately earn; 
 
 For fifty thousand heroes, name by name. 
 
 Though aU deserving equally to turn 
 A couplet, or an elegy to claim, 
 
 "V^'ould form a lengthy lexicon of glory. 
 
 And what is worse stiU, a much longer story: 
 
CANTO VTII. DON JUAN. 37 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 And therefore we must give the greater number 
 To the Gazette— which doubtless fairly dealt 
 
 By the deceased, who he in famous slumber 
 In ditches, fields, or wheresoe'er they felt 
 
 Their clay for the last time their souls encumber;— 
 Thrice happy he whose name has been well spelt 
 
 In the despatch : I knew a man whose loss 
 
 Was printed Grove, although his name was Grose. (3) 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Juan and Johnson join'd a certain corps. 
 
 And fought away with might and main, not knowing 
 The way which they had never trod before, 
 
 And stiU less guessing where they might be going; 
 But on they march'd, dead bodies tramphng o'er. 
 
 Firing, and thrusting, slashing, sweating, glowing. 
 But fighting thoughtlessly enough to win. 
 To their two selves, one whole bright bulletin. 
 
 XX. 
 
 Thus on they wallow'd in the bloody mire 
 Of dead and dying thousands, — sometimes gaining 
 
 A yard or two of ground, which brought them nigher 
 To some odd angle for which all were straining; 
 
 At other times, repulsed by the close fire. 
 
 Which reaUy pour'd as if aU hell were raining 
 
 Instead of heaven, they stumbled backwards o'er 
 
 A wounded comrade, sprawUng in his gore, 
 
38 DON JUAN. c^nto viii. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Though 't was Don Juan's first of fields, and though 
 The nightly muster and the silent march 
 
 In the chiU dark;, when courage does not glow 
 So much as under a triumphal arch. 
 
 Perhaps might make him shiver, yawn, or throw 
 A glance on the dvill clouds (as thick as starch, 
 
 WTiich stifFen'd heaven) as if he wish'd for day;— 
 
 Yet for all this he did not ran away. 
 
 xxn. 
 Indeed he could not. But what if he had.^ 
 
 There have been and are heroes who begun 
 With something not much better, or as bad: 
 
 Frederic the Great from Molwitz deign'd to run, 
 For the first and last time; for, hke a pad. 
 
 Or hawk, or bride, most mortals after one 
 Warm bout are broken into their new tricks. 
 And fight Uke fiends for pay or politics. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 He was what Erin caUs, in her sublime 
 Old Erse or Irish, or it may be Punic; — 
 
 (The antiquarians who can settle time. 
 
 Which settles all things, Roman, Greek, or Runic, 
 
 Swear that Pat's language sprung from the same cUme 
 With Hannibal, and wears the Tyrian tunic 
 
 Of Dido's alphabet ; and this is rational 
 
 As any other notion, and not national) ; (4) 
 
CAXTO viii. DON JUAN. 39 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 But Juan was quite "a broth of a boy," 
 A thing of impulse and a child of song; 
 
 Now swimming in the sentiment of joy. 
 
 Or the sensation (if that phrase seem wrong). 
 
 And afterward, if he must needs destroy, 
 In such good company as always throng 
 
 To battles, sieges, and that kind of pleasure. 
 
 No less delighted to employ his leisure; 
 
 XXV. 
 
 But always without maUce: ifhewarr'd 
 Or loved, it was with what we call "the best 
 
 Intentions," which form all mankind's trump card, 
 To be produced when brought up to the test. 
 
 The statesman, hero, harlot, lawyer — ward 
 Off each attack, when people are in quest 
 
 Of their designs, by saying they meant well; 
 
 'Tis pity "that such ttieaning should pave hen."(5) 
 
 xxvi.^ 
 I almost lately have begun to doubt 
 
 Whether hell's pavement — if it be so paved — 
 Must not have latterly been quite worn out. 
 
 Not by the numbers good intent hath saved, » 
 But by the mass who go below without 
 
 Those ancient good intentions, which once shaved 
 And smooth'd the brimstone of that street of hell 
 WTiich bears the greatest hkeness to Pall Mali. 
 
40 DON JUAN. CANTO VIII. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Juan, by some strange chance, v^rhich oft divides 
 Warrior from vsrarrior in their grim career, 
 
 Like chastest wives from constant husbands' sides 
 Just at the close of the first bridal year. 
 
 By one of those odd turns of Fortune's tides. 
 Was on a sudden rather puzzled here. 
 
 When, after a good deal of heavy firing. 
 
 He found himself alone, and friends retiring. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 I don't know how the thing occurr'd — it might 
 Be that the greater part were kiU'd or wounded. 
 
 And that the rest had faced unto the right 
 About; a circumstance which has confounded 
 
 Caesar himself, who in the very sight 
 
 Of his whole army, which so much abounded 
 
 In courage, was obliged to snatch a shield. 
 
 And rally back his Romans to the field. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Juan, who had no shield to snatch, and was 
 No Caesar, but a fine young lad, who fought 
 
 He knew not why, arriving at this pass, 
 Stopp'd for a minute, as perhaps he ought 
 
 For a much longer time; then, like an ass — 
 
 (Start not, kind reader, since great Homer thought 
 
 This simile enough for Ajax, Juan 
 
 Perhaps may find it better than a new one) ; 
 
CANTO VIII. DON JUAN. 41 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Then, like an ass, he went upon his way. 
 
 And, what was stranger, never look'd behind; 
 
 But seeing, flashing forward, Uke the day- 
 Over the hiUs, a fire enough to bUnd 
 
 Those who dishke to look upon a fray. 
 He stumbled on, to try if he could find 
 
 A path, to add his own shght arm and forces 
 
 To corps, the greater part of which were corses. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Perceiving then no more the commandant 
 
 Of his own corps, nor even the corps, which had 
 
 Quite disappear' d— the gods know how! (I can't 
 Accoimt for every thing which may look bad 
 
 In history; but we at least may grant 
 It was not marvellous that a mere lad. 
 
 In search of glory, should look on before. 
 
 Nor care a pinch of snufF about his corps) : — 
 
 XX XII. 
 
 Perceiving nor commander nor commanded. 
 And left at large, hke a young heir, to make 
 
 His way to — where he knew not — single handed; 
 As travellers follow over bog and brake 
 
 An " ignis fatuus;" or as saUors stranded 
 Unto the nearest hut themselves betake; 
 
 So Juan, following honour and his nose, 
 
 Rush'd where the thickest fire announced most foes. 
 
42 DON JUAN. CANTO Viii. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 He knew not where he was, nor greatly cared, 
 
 For he was dizzy, busy, and his veins 
 Fill'd as with Ughtning— for his spirit shared 
 
 The hour, as is the case with hvely brains; 
 And where the hottest fire was seen and heard. 
 
 And the loud cannon peal'd his hoarsest strains. 
 He rush'd, while earth and air were sadly shaken 
 By thy humane discovery. Friar Bacon ! (6) 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 And as he rush'd along, it came to pass he 
 
 Fell in with what was late the second column. 
 
 Under the orders of the General Lascy, 
 But now reduced, as is a bulky volume 
 
 Into an elegant extract (much less massy) 
 Of heroism, and took his place with solemn 
 
 Air 'midst the rest, who kept their vaUant faces 
 
 And levell'd weapons still against the glacis. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Just at this crisis up came Johnson too. 
 
 Who had "retreated," as the phrase is when 
 
 Men run away much rather, than go through 
 Destruction's jaws into the devil's den; 
 
 But Johnson was a clever fellow, who 
 
 Knew when and how "to cut and come again," 
 
 And never ran away, except when running 
 
 Was nothing but a valorous kind of cunning. 
 
CANTO VIII. DON JUAN. 43 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 And so, when all liis corps were dead or dying. 
 Except Don Juan, a mere novice, whose 
 
 More virgin valour never dreamt of flying. 
 From ignorance of danger, which indues 
 
 Its votaries, like innocence relying 
 On its own strength, with careless nerves and thews,— 
 
 Johnson retired a little, just to rally 
 
 Those who catch cold in "shadows of Death's valley." 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 And there, a Uttle shelter'd from the shot. 
 Which rain'd from bastion, battery, parapet. 
 
 Rampart, wall, casement, house— for there was not 
 In this extensive city, sore beset 
 
 By Christian soldiery, a single spot 
 
 "VFhich did not combat like the devil, as yet, — 
 
 He found a number of Chasseurs, aU scatter 'd 
 
 By the resistance of the chase they batter'd. 
 
 xxxviii. 
 And these he caU'd on; and, what's strange, they came 
 
 Unto his call, unlike '^'^the spirits from 
 The vasty deep," to whom you may exclaim. 
 
 Says Hotspur, long ere they will leave their home. 
 Their reasons were uncertainty, or shame 
 
 At shrinking from a bullet or a bomb. 
 And that odd impulse, which in wars or creeds 
 Makes men, hke cattle, follow him who leads. 
 
44 DON JUAN. CANTO VIII. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 By Jove! he was a noble fellow, Johnson, 
 And though his name, than Ajax or Achilles, 
 
 Sounds less harmonious, underneath the sun soon 
 We shall not see his hkeness: he could kiU his 
 
 Man quite as quietly as blows the monsoon 
 
 Her steady breath( which some months the same stillis): 
 
 Seldom he varied feature, hue, or muscle. 
 
 And could be very busy without bustle; 
 
 XL. 
 
 And therefore, when he ran away, he did so 
 
 Upon reflection, knowing that behind 
 He would find others who would fain be rid so 
 
 Of idle apprehensions, which hke wind 
 Trouble heroic stomachs. Though their lids so - 
 
 Oft are soon closed, all heroes are not bhnd. 
 But when they light upon immediate death. 
 Retire a Httle, merely to take breath. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 But Johnson only ran oiF, to return 
 
 With many other warriors, as we said. 
 Unto that rather somewhat misty bourn. 
 
 Which Hamlet tells us is a pass of dread. 
 To Jack howe'er this gave but sHght concern: 
 
 His soul (hke galvanism upon the dead) 
 Acted upon the hving as on wire. 
 And led them back into the heaviest fire. 
 
CANTO VIII, DON JUAN. 45 
 
 XLII. 
 
 Egad! they found the second time what they 
 The first time thought quite terrible enough 
 
 To fly from^ malgre all which people say 
 Of glory, and all that immortal stuff 
 
 Which fiUs a regiment (besides their pay, 
 
 That daily shilUng which makes warriors tough) — 
 
 They found on their return the self-same welcome. 
 
 Which made some think, and others know, a hell come. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 They feU as thick as harvests beneath hail. 
 Grass before scythes, or corn below the siclde. 
 
 Proving that trite old truth, that Ufe's as frail 
 As any other boon for which men stickle. 
 
 The Turkish batteries thrash'd them hke a flail 
 Or a good boxer, into a sad pickle. 
 
 Putting the very bravest, who were knock'd 
 
 Upon the head, before their guns were cock'd. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 The Turks behind the traverses and flanks 
 Of the next bastion, fired away Hke devils. 
 
 And swept, as gales sweep foam away, whole ranks: 
 However, Heaven knows how, the Fate who levels 
 
 Towns, nations, worlds, in her revolving pranks. 
 So order d it, amidst these sulphury revels. 
 
 That Johnson and some few who had not scamper'd, 
 
 Reach'd the interior talus of the rampart. 
 
46 DON JUAN. canto via. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 First one or two^ then five, six, and a dozen 
 Came mounting quickly up, for it was now 
 
 AH neck or nothing, as, like pitch or rosin. 
 
 Flame was shower d forth above, as weU's below, 
 
 So that you scarce could say who best had chosen. 
 The gentlemen that were the first to show 
 
 Their martial faces on the parapet, 
 
 Or those who thought it brave to wait as yet. 
 
 XL VI. 
 
 But those who scaled, found out that their advance 
 Was favour'd by an accident or blimder: 
 
 The Greek or Turkish Cohorn's ignorance 
 Had paUisado'd in a way you'd wonder 
 
 To see in forts of Netherlands or France — 
 (Though these to our Gibraltar must knock under)— 
 
 Right in the middle of the parapet 
 
 Just named, these pahsades were primly set: 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 So that on either side some nine or ten 
 Paces were left, whereon you could contrive 
 
 To march; a great convenience to our men. 
 At least to all those who were left alive, 
 
 Who thus coidd form a line and fight again; 
 And that which farther aided them to strive 
 
 Was, that they could kick down the palisades, 
 
 'VVTiich scarcely rose much higher than grass blades. (7) 
 
CANTO VIII, DON JUAN. 47 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 Among the first,— I will not say the Jlrst, 
 For such precedence upon such occasions 
 
 Will oftentimes make deadly quarrels burst 
 Out between friends as well as allied nations: 
 
 The Briton must be bold who reaUy durst 
 Put to such trial John Bull's partial patience. 
 
 As say that Wellington at Waterloo 
 
 Was beaten,— though the Prussians say so too;— 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 And that if Bliicher, Bulow, Gneisenau, [ 
 
 And God knows who besides in "au" and "ou," 
 
 Had not come up in time to cast an awe 
 Into the hearts of those who fought till now 
 
 As tigers combat with an empty craw. 
 
 The Duke of Wellington had ceased to show 
 
 His orders, also to receive his pensions. 
 
 Which are the heaviest that our history mentions. 
 
 L. 
 
 But never mind; — "God save the king!" and kings! 
 
 For if he don't, I doubt if men will longer — 
 I think I hear a httle bird, who sings 
 
 The people by and by will be the stronger: 
 The veriest jade will wince whose harness wrings 
 
 So much into the raw as quite to wrong her 
 Beyond the rules of posting,— and the mob 
 At last fall sick of imitating Job, 
 
48 DON JUAN. CANTO vin. 
 
 At first it grumbles;, then it swears^ and then. 
 
 Like David, flings smooth pebbles 'gainst a giant; 
 
 At last it takes to weapons such as men 
 
 Snatch when despair makes hiunan hearts less pliant. 
 
 Then comes "the tug of war;" — 'twill come again, 
 I rather doubt; and I would fain say "fie on't," , 
 
 If I had not perceived that Revolution 
 
 Alone can save the earth from hell's pollution. 
 
 LII. 
 
 But to continue; — I say not the first, 
 
 But of the first, our httle friend Don Juan 
 
 Walk'd o'er the walls of Ismail, as if nursed 
 
 Amidst such scenes — though this was qmte a new one 
 
 To him, and I should hope to most. The thirst 
 Of glory, which so pierces through and through one, 
 
 Pervaded him — although a generous creature. 
 
 As warm in heart as feminine in featui-e. 
 
 liUI. 
 
 And here he was— who upon woman's breast. 
 Even from a child, felt like a child; howe'er 
 
 The man in all the rest might be confest. 
 To him it was Elysium to be there; 
 
 And he could even withstand that awkward test 
 ■MTiich Rousseau points out to the dubious fair, 
 
 "Observe your lover when he leaves your arms;" 
 
 But Juan never left them, while they had charms. 
 
CANTO VIII. DON JUAN. 49 
 
 LIV. 
 
 Unless compell'd by fate, or wave, or wind, \ 
 
 Or near relations, who are much the same. 1 
 
 But here he was!— where each tie that can bind 
 Humanity must yield to steel and flame: 
 
 And he whose very body was all mind, 
 
 Flung here by fate or circumstance, which tame 
 
 The loftiest, hurried by the time and place, 
 
 Dash'd on Uke a spurr'd blood-horse in a race. 
 
 liV. 
 
 So was his blood stirr'd while he found resistance. 
 
 As is the hunter's at the five-bar gate. 
 Or double post and rail, where the existence 
 
 Of Britain's youth depends upon their weight. 
 The lightest being the safest: at a distance 
 
 He hated cruelty, as all men hate 
 Blood, until heated — and even there his own 
 At times would curdle o'er some heavy groan. 
 • 
 
 LVI. 
 
 The General Lascy, who had been hard press'd. 
 
 Seeing arrive an aid so opportune 
 As were some hundred youngsters all abreast. 
 
 Who came as if just dropp'd down from the moon. 
 To Juan, who was nearest him, address'd 
 
 His thanks, and hopes to take the city soon. 
 Not reckoning him to be a "base Bezonian," 
 (As Pistol calls it) but a young Livonian. 
 
 VOL. II. E 
 
50 DON JUAN. CANTO VIII, 
 
 Juan, to whom he spoke in German, knew 
 As much of German as of Sanscrit, and 
 
 In answer made an incUnation to 
 
 The general who held him in command; 
 
 For seeing one with ribands, black and blue. 
 Stars, medals, and a bloody sword in hand. 
 
 Addressing him in tones which seem'd to thank. 
 
 He recognized an officer of rank. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 Short speeches pass between two men who speak 
 No common language; and besides, in time 
 
 Of war and taking towns, when many a shriek 
 Rings o'er the dialogue, and many a crime 
 
 Is perpetrated ere a word can break 
 
 Upon the ear, and sounds of horror chime 
 
 In like church-beUs, with sigh, howl, groan, yeU, prayer, 
 
 There cannot be much conversation there. 
 • 
 
 LIX. 
 
 And therefore aU we have related in 
 
 Two long octaves, pass'd in a little minute; 
 
 But in the same small minute, every sin 
 Contrived to get itself comprised within it. 
 
 The very cannon, deafened by the din, 
 
 Grew dumb, for you might almost hear a hnnet, 
 
 As soon as thunder, 'midst the general noise 
 
 Of human nature's agonizing voice! 
 
CANTO VIII. DON JUAN. 51 
 
 LX. 
 
 The town was enter'd. Oh eternity! — 
 
 "God made the country, and man made the town/ 
 So Cowper says — and I begin to be 
 
 Of his opinion, when I see cast down 
 Rome, Babylon, Tyre, Carthage, Nineveh, 
 
 AH walls men know, and many never known ; 
 And pondering on the present and the past. 
 To deem the woods shall be our home at last: — 
 
 LXI. 
 
 Of all men, saving SyUa the man-slayer. 
 
 Who passes for in life and death most lucky. 
 
 Of the great names which in our faces stare. 
 
 The General Boon, back- woodsman of Kentucky, 
 
 Was happiest amongst mortals any where; 
 For killing nothing but a bear or buck, he 
 
 Enjoy'd the lonely, vigorous, harmless days 
 
 Of his old age in wilds of deepest maze. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 Crime came not near him — she is not the child 
 Of soUtude; Health shrank not from him — for 
 
 Her home is in the rarely trodden wUd, 
 Where if men seek her not, and death be more 
 
 Their choice than life, forgive them, as beguiled 
 By habit to what their own hearts abhor — 
 
 In cities caged, The present case in point I 
 
 Cite is, that Boon lived hunting up to ninety ; 
 
 E ^ 
 
52 DON JUAN. CANTO VIII. 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 And what 's still stranger, left behind a name 
 For which men vainly decimate the throng, 
 Not only famous, but of that good fame. 
 
 Without which glory 's but a tavern song- 
 Simple, serene, the antipodes of shame. 
 
 Which hate nor envy e'er could tinge with wrong; 
 An active hemait, even in age the child 
 Of Nature, or the man of Ross run wild. 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 'Tis true he shrank from men even of his nation, 
 WTien they buHt up unto his darling trees,— 
 
 He moved some himdred miles off, for a station 
 WTiere there were fewer houses and more ease; 
 
 The inconvenience of civilization 
 
 Is, that you neither can be pleased nor please; 
 
 But where he met the individual man. 
 
 He show'd himself as kind as mortal can. 
 
 LSV. 
 
 He was not all alone: around him grew 
 A sylvan tribe of cliildren of the chase. 
 
 Whose young, unwaken'd world was ever new. 
 Nor sword nor sorrow yet had left a trace 
 
 On her unwi-inkled brow, nor could you view 
 A frown on Nature's or on human face;— 
 
 The free-born forest found and kept them free. 
 
 And fresh as is a torrent or a tree. 
 
CANTO vin. DON JUAN. 53 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 And tall, and strong, and swift of foot were they, 
 Beyond the dwarfing city's pale abortions. 
 
 Because their thoughts had never been the prey 
 
 Of care or gain: the green woods were their portions; 
 
 No sinking spirits told them they grew gray. 
 No fashion made them apes of her distortions; 
 
 Simple they were, not savage; and their rifles. 
 
 Though very true, were not yet used for trifles. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 Motion was in their days, rest in their slumbers. 
 And cheerfulness the handmaid of their toil; 
 
 Nor yet too many nor too few their numbers; 
 Corruption could not make their hearts her soil; 
 
 The lust which stings, the splendour which encumbers, 
 With the free foresters divide no spoil; 
 
 Serene, not sullen, were the sohtudes 
 
 Of this unsighing people of the woods. 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 So much for Nature:— by way of variety, 
 Now back to thy great joys, civUization! 
 
 And the sweet consequence of large society, 
 War, pestilence, the despot's desolation. 
 
 The kingly scourge, the lust of notoriety. 
 The millions slain by soldiers for their ration. 
 
 The scenes hke Catherine's boudoir at threescore. 
 
 With Ismail's storm to soften it the more. 
 
5 4 DON JUAN. canto viii. 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 The town was enter'd: first one column made 
 Its sanguinary way good — then another; 
 
 The reeking bayonet and the flashing blade 
 
 Clash'd 'gainst the scimitar^ and babe and mother 
 
 With distant shrieks were heard Heaven to upbraid:— 
 StiU closer sulphury clouds began to smother 
 
 The breath of morn and man, where foot by foot 
 
 The madden'd Turks their city stOI dispute. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 Koutousow, he who afterward beat back 
 
 (With some assistance from the frost and snow) 
 
 Napoleon on his bold and bloody track, 
 
 It happen'd was himself beat back just now: 
 
 He was a joUy fellow, and could crack 
 His jest alike in face of friend or foe, 
 
 Though Ufe, and death, and victory were at stake; 
 
 But here it seem'd his jokes had ceased to take: 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 For having thrown himself into a ditch, 
 FoUow'd in haste by various grenadiers, 
 
 "WTiose blood the puddle greatly did enrich. 
 He cUmb'd to where the parapet appears; 
 
 But there his project reach'd its utmost pitch 
 ('Mongst other deaths the General Ribaupierre's 
 
 Was much regretted), for the Moslem men 
 
 Threw them all down into the ditch again. 
 
( ANTO VIII. DON JUAN. 55 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 And had it not been for some stray troops, landing 
 They knew not where, being carried by the stream 
 
 To some spot, where they lost their understanding. 
 And wander'd up and down as in a dream. 
 
 Until they reach'd, as day-break was expanding. 
 That which a portal to their eyes did seem, — 
 
 The great and gay Koutousow might have lain 
 
 Where three parts of his column yet remain. 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 And scrambling round the rampart, these same troops, 
 
 After the taking of the "CavaUer," 
 Just as Koutousow's most "forlorn" of "hopes" 
 
 Took, hke chameleons, some shght tinge of fear. 
 Open d the gate caU'd "Kiha" to the groups 
 
 Of baffled heroes, who stood shyly near. 
 Sliding knee-deep in lately frozen mud. 
 Now thaw'd into a marsh of human blood. 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 The Kozacks, or, if so you please, Cossacques — 
 (I don't much pique myself upon orthography. 
 
 So that I do not grossly err in facts. 
 
 Statistics, tactics, politics, and geography)— 
 
 Having been used to serve on horses' backs. 
 And no great dilletanti in topography 
 
 Of fortresses, but fighting where it pleases 
 
 Their chiefs to order,— were all cut to pieces. 
 
DON JUAN. CANTO VIII. 
 
 Their column;, though the Turkish batteries thunder'd 
 Upon them, ne'ertheless had reach'd the rampart, 
 
 And naturally thought they could have plunder d 
 The city, without being farther hamper d; 
 
 But as it happens to brave men, they blunder d — 
 The Turks at first pretended to have scamper'd. 
 
 Only to draw them 'twixt two bastion corners. 
 
 From whence they sallied on those Christian scomers. 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 Then being taken by the tail— a taking 
 
 Fatal to bishops as to soldiers — these 
 Cossacques were all cut off as day was breaking. 
 
 And found their Hves were let at a short lease — 
 But perish'd without shivering or shaking. 
 
 Leaving as ladders their heap'd carcasses. 
 O'er which Lieutenant-Colonel Yesouskoi 
 March'd with the brave battahon of Polouzki:— 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 This valiant man kill'd aU the Turks he met. 
 But could not eat them, being in his turn 
 
 Slain by some Mussulmans, who would not yet. 
 Without resistance, see their city burn. 
 
 The walls were won, but 'twas an even bet 
 
 Which of the armies would have cause to mourn: 
 
 'Twas blow for blow, disputing inch by inch. 
 
 For one would not retreat, nor t' other flinch. 
 
CANTO viii. DON JUAN. 57 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 Another column also suffer'd much:— 
 
 And here we may remark with the historian. 
 
 You should but give few cartridges to such 
 
 Troops as are meant to. march with greatest glory on : 
 
 When matters must be carried by the touch 
 Of the bright bayonet, and they aU should hurry on. 
 
 They sometimes, with a hankering for existence, 
 
 Keep merely firing at a foohsh distance. 
 
 A junction of the General Meknop's men 
 
 (Without the general, who had fallen some time 
 
 Before, being badly seconded just then) 
 Was made at length with those who dared to climb 
 
 The death-disgorging rampart once again ; 
 And though the Turk's resistance was subUme, 
 
 They took the bastion, which the Seraskier 
 
 Defended at a price extremely dear. 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 Juan and Johnson, and some volunteers 
 Among the foremost, ofFer'd him good quarter, 
 
 A word which little suits with Seraskiers, 
 Or at least suited not this vaUant Tartar. 
 
 He died, deserving weU his country's tears, 
 A savage sort of mihtary mart jt. 
 
 An English naval officer, who wish'd 
 
 To make him prisoner, was also dish'd: 
 
DON JUAN. CANTO VIII. 
 
 For all the answer to his proposition 
 
 Was from a pistol-shot that laid him dead; 
 
 On which the rest, without more intermission. 
 Began to lay about with steel and lead — 
 
 The pious metals most in requisition 
 On such occasions : not a single head 
 
 Was spared ; — three thousand Moslems perish'd here, 
 
 And sixteen bayonets pierced the Seraslder. 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 The city 's taken — only part by part — 
 
 And Death is drunk with gore: there's not a street 
 Where fights not to the last some desperate heart 
 
 For those for whom it soon shall cease to beat. 
 Here War forgot his own destructive art 
 
 In more destroying Nature; and the heat 
 Of carnage, Hke the NUe's sun-sodden shme, 
 Engender'd monstrous shapes of every crime. 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 A Russian officer, in martial tread 
 
 Over a heap of bodies, felt his heel 
 Seized fast, as if 'twere by the serpent's head 
 
 Whose fangs Eve taught her human seed to feel: 
 In vain he kick'd, and swore, and writhed, and bled, 
 
 And howl'd for help as wolves do for a meal— 
 The teeth still kept their gratifying hold. 
 As do the subtle snakes described of old. 
 
CANTO VIII. DON JUAN. 59 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 A dying Moslem, who had felt the foot 
 Of a foe o'er him, snatch'd at it, and bit 
 
 The very tendon which is most acute — 
 (That which some ancient Muse or modern wit 
 
 Named after thee, AchiQes) and quite through 't 
 He made the teeth meet, nor relinquish'd it 
 
 Even with his life — for (but they he) 'tis said 
 
 To the Uve leg still clung the sever'd head. 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 However this may be, 'tis pretty sure 
 The Russian officer for Ufe was lamed. 
 
 For the Turk's teeth stuck faster than a skewer, 
 And left him 'midst the invahd and maim'd: 
 
 The regimental surgeon could not cure 
 His patient, and perhaps was to be blamed 
 
 More than the head of the inveterate foe. 
 
 Which was cut off, and scarce even then let go. 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 But then the fact 's a fact — and 'tis the part 
 
 Of a true poet to escape from fiction 
 Whene'er he can; for there is Httle art 
 
 In leaving verse more free from the restriction 
 Of truth than prose, unless to suit the mart 
 
 For what is sometimes caU'd poetic diction. 
 And that outrageous appetite for hes 
 Which Satan angles with for souls, like flies. 
 
60 DON JUAN. CANTO VIII. 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 The city's taken, but not render'd!— No! 
 
 There's not a Moslem that hath yielded sword: 
 The blood may gush out, as the Danube's flow 
 
 RoUs by the city wall; but deed nor word 
 Acknowledge aught of dread of death or foe: 
 
 In vain the yeU of victory is roar'd 
 By the advancing Muscovite — the groan 
 Of the last foe is echoed by his own. 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 The bayonet pierces and the sabre cleaves. 
 And human Uves are lavish'd every where. 
 
 As the year closing whirls the scarlet leaves 
 When the stripp'd forest bows to the bleak air. 
 
 And groans; and thus the peopled city grieves, 
 Shorn of its best and lovehest, and left bare; 
 
 But stiU it falls with vast and awful sphnters. 
 
 As oaks blown down with all their thousand winters. 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 It is an awful topic— but 'tis not 
 
 My cue for any time to be terrific: 
 For checker'd as is seen our human lot 
 
 With good, and bad, and worse, alike prolific 
 Of melancholy merriment, to quote 
 
 Too much of one sort would be soporific;— 
 Without, or with, offence to friends or foes, 
 I sketch your world exactly as it goes. 
 
CANTO viii. DON JUAN. 61 
 
 xc. 
 And one good action in the midst of crimes 
 
 Is "quite refreshing," in the affected phrase 
 Of these ambrosial, Pharisaic times, 
 
 With all their pretty milk-and-water ways, 
 And may serve therefore to bedew these rhymes, 
 
 A little scorch'd at present with the blaze 
 Of conquest and its consequences, which 
 Make epic poesy so rare and rich. 
 
 xci. 
 
 Upon a taken bastion, where there lay \ 
 
 Thousands of slaughter'd men, a yet warm group 
 
 Of murder'd women, who had found their way 
 To this vain refuge, made the good heart droop 
 
 And shudder; — while, as beautiful as May, 
 A female child of ten years tried to stoop 
 
 And hide her httle palpitating breast 
 
 Amidst the bodies luU'd in bloody rest. 
 
 XCII. 
 
 Two viUanous Cossacques pursued the child 
 
 With flashing eyes and weapons, match'd with them : 
 
 The rudest brute that roams Siberia's wild 
 Has feehngs pure and pohsh'd as a gem, — 
 
 The bear is civiUzed, the wolf is mild: 
 And whom for this at last must we condemn? 
 
 Their natures? or their sovereigns, who employ 
 
 AH arts to teach their subjects to destroy? 
 
62 DON JUAN. CANTO VIII. 
 
 XCIII. 
 
 Their sabres glitter'd o'er her httle head, 
 
 "Whence her fair hair rose twining with affright, 
 
 Her hidden face was plunged amidst the dead: 
 When Juan caught a ghmpse of this sad sight, 
 
 I shall not say exactly what he said, 
 
 Because it might not solace "ears pohte;" 
 
 But what he did, was to lay on their backs. 
 
 The readiest way of reasoning with Cossacques. 
 
 xciv. . 
 One's hip he slash' d, and spht the other's shoulder. 
 
 And drove them with their brutal yeUs to seek 
 If there might be chirurgeons who could solder 
 
 The wounds they richly merited, and sliriek 
 Their baffled rage and pain; while waxing colder 
 
 As he turn'd o'er each pale and gory cheek, 
 Don Juan raised his httle captive from 
 The heap a moment more had made her tomb. 
 
 xcv. 
 And she was chiU as they, and on her face 
 
 A slender streak of blood announced how near 
 Her fate had been to that of all her race; 
 
 For the same blow which laid her mother here 
 Had scarr'd her brow, and left its crimson trace 
 
 As the last hnk with all she had held dear; 
 But else unhurt, she open'd her large eyes. 
 And gazed on Juan with a wild surprise, 
 
CANTO VIII. DON JUAN. 63 
 
 xcvi. 
 Just at this instant, while their eyes were fix'd 
 
 Upon each other, with dilated glance. 
 In Juan's look, pain, pleasure, hope, fear, mix'd 
 
 With joy to save, and dread of some m^ischance 
 Unto his protegee; while hers, transfix'd 
 
 With infant terrors, glared as from a trance, 
 A pure, transparent, pale, yet radiant face. 
 Like to a Ughted alabaster vase; — 
 
 XCVII. 
 
 Up came John Johnson (I wiU not say "Jack," 
 For that were vulgar, cold, and common-place 
 
 On great occasions, such as an attack 
 On cities, as hath been the present case) : 
 
 Up Johnson came, with hundreds at his back, 
 Exclaiming: — "Juan! Juan! On, boy! brace 
 
 Your arm, and I '11 bet Moscow to a dollar 
 
 That you and I wiU win St. George's coUar. (3) 
 
 XCVIII. 
 
 "The-Seraskier is knock'd upon the head. 
 But the stone bastion stiU remains, wherein 
 
 The old Pacha sits among some hundreds dead. 
 Smoking his pipe quite calmly 'midst the din 
 
 Of our artillery and his own : 'tis said 
 Our IdU'd, already piled up to the chin. 
 
 Lie round the battery; but stOl it batters. 
 
 And grape in volleys, Uke a vineyard, scatters. 
 
64 DON JUAN. CANTO VIII, 
 
 xcix. 
 " Then up with me!"— But Juan answer'd, "Look 
 
 Upon this child— I saved her— must not leave 
 Her life to chance; but point me out some nook 
 
 Of safety, vphere she less may shrink and grieve, 
 And I am with you." — Whereon Johnson took [^sleeve 
 
 A glance around — and shrugg'd — and twitch'd his 
 And black sUk neckcloth — and rephed, '^^ You 're right; 
 Poor thing! what's to be done.'' I 'm puzzled quite." 
 
 c. 
 
 Said Juan — "Whatsoever is to be 
 
 Done, I 'U not quit her tOl she seems secure 
 
 Of present hfe a good deal more than we." — 
 Quoth Johnson — "Neither will I quite ensvue; 
 
 But at the least you may die gloriously."— 
 Juan repHed — "At least I wUl endure 
 
 "^VTiate'er is to be borne — but not resign 
 
 This child, who is parentless, and therefore mine." 
 
 CI. 
 
 Johnson said— "Juan, we've no time to lose; 
 
 The child 's a pretty child— a very pretty— 
 I never saw such eyes— but hark! now choose 
 
 Between your fame and feeHngs, pride and pity;— 
 Hark ! how the roar increases !— no excuse 
 
 WiU serve when there is plunder in a city;— 
 I should be loath to march without you, but, 
 By God! we'U be too late for the first cut." 
 t 
 
CANTO vni, DON JUAN. 65 
 
 oil. 
 But Juan was immoveable; until 
 
 Johnson, who really loved him in his way, 
 Pick'd out amongst his followers with some skill 
 
 Such as he thought the least given up to prey; 
 And swearing if the infant came to iU 
 
 That they should aU be shot on the next day ; 
 But if she were deliver'd safe and sound. 
 They should at least have fifty rubles round, 
 
 cm. 
 
 And all allowances besides of plunder 
 
 In fair proportion with their comrades;— then 
 
 Juan consented to march on through thunder, ' 
 Which thinn'd at every step their ranks of men : 
 
 And yet the rest rush'd eagerly — no wonder. 
 For they were heated by the hope of gain, 
 
 A thing which happens every where each day — 
 
 No hero trusteth whoUy to half-pay. 
 
 CIV. 
 
 And such is victory, and such is man ! 
 
 .At least nine- tenths of what we call so; — God 
 May have another name for half we scan 
 
 As human beings, or his ways are odd. 
 But to our subject: a brave Tartar khan — 
 
 Or " sultan," as the author (to whose nod 
 In prose I bend my humble verse) doth call 
 This chieftain — somehow would not yield at all: 
 
66 DON JUAN. CANTO VIII. 
 
 cv. 
 But flank'd hyfive brave sons (such is polygamy. 
 
 That she spawns warriors by the score, where none 
 Are prosecuted for that false crime bigamy). 
 
 He never would beheve the city won 
 WhUe courage clung but to a single twig.— Am I 
 
 Describing Priam's, Peleus', or Jove's son? 
 Neither — but a good, plain, old, temperate man, 
 Wh.0 fought with his five children in the van. 
 
 cvi. 
 To take him was the point. The truly brave. 
 
 When they behold the brave oppress'd with odds, 
 Are touch'd with a desire to shield and save; — 
 
 A mixture of wild beasts and demi-gods 
 Are they — now furious as the sweeping wave, 
 
 Now moved with pity: even as sometimes nods 
 The rugged tree unto the summer vdnd. 
 Compassion breathes along the savage mind. 
 
 CVII. 
 
 But he would not be taken, and replied 
 
 To aU the propositions of surrender 
 By mowing Christians down on every side. 
 
 As obstinate as Swedish Charles at Bender. 
 His five brave boys no less the foe defied; 
 
 Whereon the Russian pathos grew less tender. 
 As being a virtue, hke terrestrial patience. 
 Apt to wear out on trifling provocations. 
 
CANTO VIII, DON JUAN. ^1 
 
 CVIII. 
 
 And spite of Johnson and of Juan^, who 
 Expended all their eastern phraseology 
 
 In begging him^ for God's sake^ just to show 
 So much less fight as might form an apology 
 
 For them in saving such a desperate foe — 
 He hew'd away, hke doctors of theology 
 
 When they dispute with sceptics; and with curses 
 
 Struck at his friends, as babies beat their nurses. 
 
 cix. 
 Nay, he had wounded, though but shghtly> both 
 
 Juan and Johnson; whereupon they fell. 
 The first with sighs, the second with an oath. 
 
 Upon his angry sultanship, pell-mell. 
 And all around were grown exceeding wroth 
 
 At such a pertinacious infidel. 
 And pour'd upon him and his sons Hke rain, 
 Which they resisted like a sandy plain 
 
 ox. 
 
 That drinks and still is dry. At last they perish'd — 
 His second son was levell'd by a shot; 
 
 His third was sabred; and the fourth, most cherish'd 
 Of all the five, on bayonets met his lot; 
 
 The fifth, who, by a Christian mother nourish'd, 
 Had been neglected, ill-used, and what not. 
 
 Because deform'd, yet died aU game and bottom. 
 
 To save a sire who blush'd that he begot him. 
 
 f3 
 
68 DON JUAN. c^nto viii. 
 
 CXI. 
 
 The eldest was a true and tameless Tartar, 
 
 As great a scorner of the Nazarene 
 As ever Mahomet pick'd out for a martyr, 
 
 Who only saw the black-eyed girls in green. 
 Who make the beds of those who won't take quarter 
 
 On earth, in Paradise; and when once seen. 
 Those hom-is, hke all other pretty creatures. 
 Do just whate'er they please, by dint of features. 
 
 CXIL 
 
 And what they pleased to do with the young khan 
 In heaven I know not, nor pretend to guess; 
 
 But doubtless they prefer a fine young man 
 To tough old heroes, and can do no less; 
 
 And that 's the cause no doubt why, if we scan 
 A field of battle's ghastly wilderness. 
 
 For one rough, weather-beaten, veteran body. 
 
 You '11 find ten thousand handsome coxcombs bloody. 
 
 CXIII. 
 
 Your houris also have a natural pleasure 
 In lopping off your lately married men, 
 
 Before the bridal hours have danced their measure, 
 And the sad, second moon grows dim again. 
 
 Or dull repentance hath had dreary leisure 
 To wish him back a bachelor now and then. 
 
 And thus your houri (it may be) disputes 
 
 Of these brief blossoms the immediate fruits. 
 
CANTO viir. DON JUAN. 69 
 
 cxiv. 
 Thus the young khan, with houris m his sight, 
 
 Thought not upon the charms of four young brides. 
 But bravely rush'd on his first heavenly night. 
 
 In short, howe'er our better faith derideg. 
 These black-eyed virgins make the Moslems fight. 
 
 As though there were one heaven and none besides — 
 Whereas, if all be true we hear of heaven 
 And heU, there must at least be six or seven. 
 
 cxv. 
 So fully flash'd the phantom on his eyes. 
 
 That when the very lance was in his heart. 
 He shouted "Allah!" and saw Paradise 
 
 With aU its veil of mystery drawn apart. 
 And bright eternity without disguise 
 
 On his soul, Uke a ceaseless sunrise, dart: — 
 With prophets, houris, angels, saints, descried 
 In one voluptuous blaze,— and then he died: 
 
 cxvi. 
 But with a heavenly rapture on his face, 
 
 The good old khan, who long had ceased to see 
 Houris, or aught except his florid race 
 
 Who grew Hke cedars round him gloriously — 
 When he beheld his latest hero grace 
 
 The earth, which he became hke a feU'd tree. 
 Paused for a moment from the fight, and cast 
 A glance on that slain son, his first and last. 
 
70 DON JUAN. CANTO VIII. 
 
 csvii. 
 The soldiers, who beheld him drop his point, 
 
 Stopp'd as if once more wiQing to concede 
 Quarter, in case he bade them not "aroynt!" 
 
 As he before had done. He did not heed 
 Their pause nor signs: his heart was out of joint. 
 
 And shook (tiU now unshaken) hke a reed. 
 As he look'd down upon his children gone. 
 And felt — though done with life — he was alone. 
 
 cxvin. 
 But 'twas a transient tremor: — with a spring 
 
 Upon the Russian steel his breast he flung, 
 As carelessly as hurls the moth her wing 
 
 Against the hght wherein she dies: he clung 
 Closer, that all the deadher they might wring, 
 
 Unto the bayonets which had pierced his young; 
 And throwing back a dim look on his sons. 
 In one wide wound pour'd forth his soul at once. 
 
 cxis. 
 
 'Tis strange enough— the rough, tough soldiers, who 
 Spai'ed neither sex nor age in their career 
 
 Of carnage, when this old man was pierced through, 
 And lay before them with his children near. 
 
 Touched by the heroism of liim they slew. 
 Were melted for a moment; though no tear, 
 
 Flow'd from their bloodshot eyes, all red with strife, 
 
 They honoiir'd such determined scorn of life. 
 
CANTO VIII. DON JUAN. 71 
 
 cxx. 
 But the stone bastion still kept up its fire. 
 
 Where the chief pacha calmly held his post: 
 Some twenty times he made the Russ retire. 
 
 And baffled the assaults of aU their host; 
 At length he condescended to inquire 
 
 If yet the city's rest were won or lost; 
 And being told the latter, sent a bey 
 To answer Ribas' summons to give way. 
 
 cxxi. 
 In the mean time, cross-legg'd, with great sang froid. 
 
 Among the scorching ruins he sat smoking 
 Tobacco on a httle carpet; — Troy 
 
 Saw nothing Uke the scene around; — yet looking 
 With martial stoicism, nought seem'd to annoy 
 
 His stem philosophy; but gently stroking 
 His beard, he pufF'd his pipe's ambrosial gales. 
 As if he had three Hves, as well as tails. 
 
 CXXII. 
 
 The town was taken — whether he might yield 
 Himself or bastion, httle matter'd now: 
 
 His stubborn valour was no future shield. 
 Ismail 's no more ! The crescent's silver bow 
 
 Sunk, and the crimson cross glared o'er the field, 
 But red with no redeeming gore : the glow 
 
 Of burning streets, Uke moonhght on the water. 
 
 Was imaged back in blood, the sea of slaughter. 
 
72 DON JUAN. CANTO VIII. 
 
 CXXIII. 
 
 All that the mind would shrink from of excesses; 
 
 All that the body perpetrates of bad; 
 All that we read;, hear, dream, of man's distresses; 
 
 All that the devil would do if run stark mad; 
 All that defies the worst which pen expresses; 
 
 All by which hell is peopled, or as sad 
 As hell — mere mortals who their power abuse- 
 Was here (as heretofore and since) let loose. 
 
 cxxiv. 
 If here and there some transient trait of pity 
 
 Was shown, and some more noble heart broke through 
 Its bloody bond, and saved perhaps some pretty 
 
 Child, or an aged, helpless man or two — 
 What 's this in one annihilated city. 
 
 Where thousand loves, and ties, and duties grow ? 
 Cockneys of London! Muscadins of Paris! 
 Just ponder what a pious pastime war is. 
 
 Think how the joys of reading a Gazette 
 Are purchased by all agonies and crimes: 
 
 Or if these do not move you, don't forget 
 Such doom may be your own in after times. 
 
 Meantime the taxes, Castlereag;h, and debt. 
 Are hints as good as sermons, or as rhymes. 
 
 Read your own hearts and Ireland's present story. 
 
 Then feed her famine fat with Wellesley's glory. 
 
CANTO VIII. DON JUAN. 73 
 
 CXXVI. 
 
 But still there is unto a patriot nation^ 
 
 Which loves so well its country and its king, 
 
 A subject of sublimest exultation — 
 Bear itj ye MuseSj on your brightest vring ! 
 
 Howe'er the mighty locust. Desolation, 
 
 Strip yoiir green fields, and to your harvests cling. 
 
 Gaunt famine never shall approach the throne — 
 
 Though Ireland starve, great George weighs tveenty 
 stone. 
 
 CXXVII. 
 
 But let me put an end unto my theme : 
 
 There vs^as an end of Ismail — hapless town ! 
 
 Far flash'd her burning towers o'er Danube's stream. 
 And redly ran his blushing waters down. 
 
 The horrid war-whoop and the shriller scream 
 Rose still ; but fainter were the thunders grown : 
 
 Of forty thousand who had mann'd the wall, 
 
 Some hundreds breathed — the rest were silent all ! 
 
 CXXVIII. 
 
 In one thing ne'ertheless 'tis fit to praise 
 The Russian army upon this occasion, 
 
 A virtue much in fashion now-a-days. 
 And therefore worthy of commemoration: 
 
 The topic's tender, so shaU be my phrase- 
 Perhaps the season's chiU, and their long station 
 
 In winter's depth, or want of rest and victual. 
 
 Had made them chaste; — they ravish'd very little. 
 
74 DON JUAJS^. CANTO VIII. 
 
 cxxix. 
 Much did they slay, more plunder, and no less 
 
 Might here and there occur some violation 
 In the other line; — but not to such excess 
 
 As when the French, that dissipated nation. 
 Take towns by storm: no causes can I guess^ 
 
 Except cold weather and commiseration; 
 But all the ladies, save some twenty score. 
 Were almost as much virgins as before, 
 
 cxxx. 
 Some odd mistakes too happen'd in the dark. 
 
 Which show'd a want of lanterns, or of taste — 
 Indeed the smoke was such they scarce could mark 
 
 Their friends from foes, — besides such things from 
 Occur, though rarely, when there is a spark [^haste 
 
 Of light to save the venerably chaste : 
 But six old damsels^ each of seventy years. 
 Were all deflower'd by different grenadiers. 
 
 cxxxi. 
 But on the whole their continence was great; 
 
 So that some disappointment there ensued 
 To those who had felt the inconvenient state 
 
 Of "single blessedness," and thought it good 
 (Since it was not their fault, but only fate. 
 
 To bear these crosses) for each waning prude 
 To make a Roman sort of Sabine wedding. 
 Without the expense and the suspense of bedding. 
 
CANTO VIII, DON JUAN. Tb 
 
 CXXXII. 
 
 Some voices of the buxom middle-aged \ 
 
 Were also heard to wonder in the din 
 (Widows of forty were these birds long caged) 
 
 '^ Wherefore the ravishing did not begin!" 
 But while the thirst for gore and plunder raged. 
 
 There was small leisure for superfluous sin; 
 But whether they escaped or no, lies hid 
 In darkness — I can only hope they did. 
 
 CXXXIII. 
 
 Suwarrow now was conqueror — a match 
 For Timour or for Zinghis in his trade. 
 
 While mosques and streets, beneath his eyes, like thatch 
 Blazed, and the cannon's roar was scarce allay'd. 
 
 With bloody hands he wrote his first despatch; 
 And here exactly follows what he said: — 
 
 "Glory to God and to the empress!" (Powers 
 
 Eternal! such names mingled! ) "Ismail's ours."*'' 
 
 CXXXIV. 
 
 Methinks these are the most tremendous words. 
 Since "Mene, Mene, Tekel," and "Upharsin," 
 
 Which hands or pens have ever traced of swords. 
 Heaven help me ! I 'm but little of a parson : 
 
 What Daniel read was short-hand of the Lord's, 
 Severe, sublime; the prophet wrote no farce on 
 
 The fate of nations; — but this Russ so witty 
 
 Could rhyme, like Nero, o'er a burning city. 
 
76 DON JUAN. CANTO VIII. 
 
 He wrote this Polar melody^ and set it^, 
 Duly accompanied by shrieks and groans^ 
 
 Which few will sing, I trust, but none forget it — 
 For I will teach, if possible, the stones 
 
 To rise against earth's tyrants. Never let it 
 Be said that we still truckle unto thrones; — 
 
 But ye — our children's children! think how we 
 
 Show'd what things were before the world was free! 
 
 cxxxvi. 
 That hour is not for us, but 'tis for you: 
 
 And as, in the great joy of your millennium. 
 You hardly will believe such things were true 
 
 As now occur, I thought that I would pen you 'em; 
 But may their very memory perish too! — 
 
 Yet if perchance remember'd, stiU disdain you 'em 
 More than you scorn the savages of yore. 
 Who painted their bare limbs, but not with gore. 
 
 CXXXVII. 
 
 And when you hear historians talk of thrones. 
 And those that sate upon them, let it be 
 
 As we now gaze upon the mammoth's bones. 
 
 And wonder what old world such things could see. 
 
 Or hieroglyphics on Egyptian stones. 
 The pleasant riddles of futurity — 
 
 Guessing at what shall happily be hid. 
 
 As the real purpose of a pyramid. 
 
CANTO VIII. DON JUAN. n 
 
 CXXXVIII. 
 
 Reader! I have kept my word,— at least so far 
 As the first Canto promised. You have now 
 
 Had sketches of love, tempest, travel, war — 
 All very accurate, you must allow. 
 
 And eipic, if plain truth should prove no bar; 
 For I have drawn much less with a long bow 
 
 Than my forerunners. Carelessly I sing. 
 
 But Phoebus lends me now and then a string, 
 
 CXXXIX. 
 
 With which I still can harp, and carp, and fiddle. 
 
 What farther hath befallen or may befal 
 The hero of this grand poetic riddle, 
 
 I by and by may teU you, if at all: 
 But now I choose to break off in the middle. 
 
 Worn out with battering Ismail's stubborn wall. 
 While Juan is sent off with the despatch. 
 For which aU Petersburgh is on the watch. 
 
 CXL. 
 
 This special honour was conferr'd, because 
 
 He had behaved with courage and humanity — 
 
 Which last, men like, when they have time to pause 
 From their ferocities produced by vanity. 
 
 His little captive gain'd him some applause 
 For saving her amidst the wild insanity 
 
 Of carnage, — and I think he was more glad in her 
 
 Safety, than his new order of St. Vladimir, 
 t 
 
78 DON JUAN. CANTO viii. 
 
 CXLI. 
 
 The Moslem orphan went with her protector^ 
 For she was homeless, houseless, helpless ; all 
 
 Her friends, hke the sad family of Hector, 
 Had perish'd in the field or by the wall: 
 
 Her very place of birth was but a spectre 
 
 Of what it had been; there the Muezzin's call 
 
 To prayer was heard no more! — and Juan wept. 
 
 And made a vow to shield her, which he kept. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO VIII. 
 
 Note 1, page 33, stanza viii. 
 "Allah! Allah! Hu !" 
 Allah Hu ! is properly the war cry of the Mussulmans, and 
 they dwell long on the last syllable, which gives it a very wild 
 and peculiar effect. 
 
 Note 2, page 34, stanza ix. 
 " Carnage" (so Wordswortfi tells you) "is GocVs daughter." 
 " But thy* most dreaded instrument 
 In working out a pure intent. 
 Is man array'd for mutual slaughter; 
 Yea, Carnage is thy daughter!" 
 
 Wordsworth's Thanksgiving Ode. 
 
 Note 3, page 37, stanza xviii. 
 Was printed Grove, although his name was Grose. 
 A fact: see the Waterloo Gazettes. I recollect remarking 
 at the time to a friend: — " There is fame! a man is killed, his 
 name is Grose, and they print it Grove." I was at college 
 with the deceased, who was a very amiable and clever man, and 
 his society in great request for his wit, gaiety, and " Chansons 
 a boire." 
 
 Note 4, page 38, stanza xxiii. 
 
 The antiquarians, who can settle time, Sfc. 
 
 See Major Vallencey and Sir Lawrence Parsons. 
 
 * To wit, the Deity's : this is perhaps as pretty a pedigree for 
 murder as ever was found out by Garter King at Arms. — What 
 would have been said, had any free-spoken people discovered 
 such a lineage ? 
 
80 NOTES TO CANTO VIII. 
 
 Note 5, page 39, stanza xxv. 
 ' Tis pity " that such meaning should pave hell." 
 The Portuguese proverb says that "hell is paved with gi 
 intentions." 
 
 Note 6, page 42, stanza xxxiii. 
 
 By thy humane discovery. Friar Bacon ! 
 
 Gunpowder is said to have been discovered by this friar. 
 
 Note 7, page 46, stanza xlvii. 
 
 they could kick down the palisades. 
 
 Which scarcely rose much higher than grass blades. 
 They were but two feet high above the level. 
 
 Note 8, page 63, stanza xcvii. 
 
 That you and I will win St. George's collar. 
 
 The Russian military order. 
 
 Note 9, page 75, stanza cxxxiii. 
 
 Glory to God and to the empress .'" (Powers 
 Eternal! such names mingled!) " Ismail's ours." 
 In the original Russian — 
 
 "Slavabogu! slava vam! 
 Krepost Vzala, y ia tarn." 
 
 A kind of couplet ; for he was a poet. 
 
DON JUAN. 
 
 CANTO IX. 
 
 I. 
 
 Oh, Wellington! (or "Vilainton" — for Fame 
 Sounds the heroic syllables both ways; 
 
 France could not even conquer your great name, 
 But punn'd it down to this facetious phrase — 
 
 Beating or beaten she will laugh the same) 
 
 You have obtain'd great pensions and much praise : 
 
 Glory like yours should any dare gainsay, 
 
 Humanity woidd rise, and thunder "Nay!"(i> 
 
 II. 
 
 I don't think that you used K^n — rd quite well 
 In Marin et's affair — in fact 'twas shabby. 
 
 And like some other things won't do to tell 
 Upon your tomb in Westminster's old abbey. 
 
 Upon the rest 'tis not worth while to dwell. 
 Such tales being for the tea-hours of some tabby; 
 
 But though your years as man tend fast to zero, 
 
 In fact your grace is still but a young hero. 
 
 VOL. II. G 
 
82 DON JUAN. 
 
 III. 
 Though Britain owes (and pays you too) so much, 
 
 Yet Europe doubtless owes you greatly more: 
 You have repair'd Legitimacy's crutch, 
 
 A prop not quite so certain as before: 
 The Spanish, and the French, as well as Dutch, 
 
 Have seen, and felt, how strongly you restore; 
 And Waterloo has made the world your debtor 
 (1 wish your bards would sing it rather better). 
 
 IV. 
 
 You are "the best of cut-throats:" — do not start; 
 
 The phrase is Shakspeare's, and not misapplied:- 
 War's a brain-spattering, windpipe-slitting art. 
 
 Unless her cause by right be sanctified. 
 If you have acted once a generous part. 
 
 The world, not the world's masters, will decide, 
 And I shall be delighted to learn who. 
 Save you and yours, have gain'd by Waterloo } 
 
 I am no flatterer — you've supp'd full of flattery: 
 They say you like it too — 'tis no great wonder: 
 
 He whose whole life has been assault and battery. 
 At last may get a little tired of thunder; 
 
 And swallowing eulogy much more than satire, he 
 May like being praised for every lucky blunder, 
 
 Call'd "Saviour of the Nations" — not yet saved. 
 
 And "Europe's Liberator" — still enslaved. 
 
CANTO IX. DON JUAN. 83 
 
 VI. 
 
 I 've done. Now go and dine from off the plate 
 Presented by the Prince of the Brazils, 
 
 And send the sentinel before your gate (2) ' 
 
 A slice or two from your luxurious meals: 
 
 He fought, but has not fed so well of late, 
 ^ome hunger too they say the people feels: — 
 
 There is no doubt that you deserve your ration, 
 
 But pray give back a little to the nation. 
 
 VII. 
 
 I don't mean to reflect— a man so great as 
 You, my lord duke ! is far above reflection : 
 
 The high Roman fashion too of Cincinnatus, 
 With modern history has but small connexion : 
 
 Though as an Irishman you love potatoes. 
 
 You need not take them under your direction; 
 
 And half a million for your Sabine farm 
 
 Is rather dear! — I'm sure I mean no harm. 
 
 Great men have always scorn'd great recompenses : 
 Epaminondas saved his Thebes, and died. 
 
 Not leaving even his funeral expenses : 
 
 George Washington had thanks and nought beside. 
 
 Except the all-cloudless glory (which few men's is) 
 To free his country: Pitt too had his pride. 
 
 And as a high-soul'd minister of state is 
 
 Renown'd for ruining Great Britain gratis. 
 
 g2 
 
84 DON JUAN. CANTO IX. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Never had mortal man such opportunity. 
 Except Napoleon, or abused it more: 
 
 You might have freed fallen Europe from the unity 
 Of tyrants, and been blest from shore to shore: [ye? 
 
 And now — What is your fame? Shall the Muse tune it 
 Now — that the rabble's first vain shouts are o'er? 
 
 Go ! hear it in your famish'd country's cries ! 
 
 Behold the world ! and curse your victories ! 
 
 X. 
 
 As these new cantos touch on warlike feats. 
 To you the unflattering Muse deigns to inscribe 
 
 Truths, that you will not read in the Gazettes, 
 But which 'tis time to teach the hireling tribe 
 
 Who fatten on their country's gore, and debts. 
 Must be recited, and — without a bribe. 
 
 You did great things; but not being great in mind. 
 
 Have left undone the greatest — and mankind. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Death laughs — Go ponder o'er the skeleton 
 
 With which men image out the unknown thing 
 
 That hides the past world, like to a set sun 
 
 Which still elsewhere may rouse a brighter spring — 
 
 Death laughs at aU you weep for: — look upon 
 This hourly dread of all! whose threaten d sting 
 
 Turns life to terror, even though in its sheath: 
 
 Mark! how its lipless mouth grins without breath! 
 
CANTO IX. DON JUAN. 85 
 
 XII. 
 
 Mark! how it laughs and scorns at all you are! 
 
 And yet ivas what you are: from ear to ear 
 It laughs not — there is now no fleshy bar 
 
 So call'd; the Antic long hath ceased to hear, 
 But still he smiles; and whether near or far 
 
 He strips from man that mantle (far more dear 
 Than even the tailor's) his incarnate skin. 
 White, black, or copper — the dead bones will grin. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 And thus Death laughs, — it is sad merriment. 
 But still it is so; and with such example 
 
 Why should not Life be equally content 
 With his superior, in a smile to trample 
 
 Upon the nothings which are daily spent 
 Like bubbles on an ocean much less ample 
 
 Than the eternal deluge, which devours 
 
 Suns as rays — worlds like atoms — years like hours. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 "To be, or not to he} that is the question," 
 
 Says Shakspeare, who justnow is much in fashion. 
 
 I am neither Alexander nor Hephaestion, 
 Nor ever had for abstract fame much passion; 
 
 But would much rather have a sound digestion 
 Than Buonaparte's cancer:— could I dash on 
 
 Through fifty victories to shame or fame, 
 
 Without a stomach— what were a good name? 
 
86 DON JUAN. CANTO d 
 
 XV. 
 
 '^'^Oh dura ilia messorum!" "Oh 
 Ye rigid guts of reapers!" I translate 
 
 For the great benefit of those who know 
 What indigestion is — that inward fate 
 
 Which makes all Styx through one small hver flow. 
 A peasant's sweat is worth his lord's estate: 
 
 Let this one toil for bread — that rack for rent, 
 
 He who sleeps best may be the most content. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 " To be^ or not to be.''" — Ere I decide, 
 
 I should be glad to know that which is being? 
 
 'Tis true we speculate both far and wide. 
 And deem, because we see, we are all-seeing: 
 
 For my part, I '11 enlist on neither side. 
 Until I see both sides for once agreeing. 
 
 For me, I sometimes think that life is death. 
 
 Rather than life a mere affair of breath. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 "Que s^ais-je?" was the motto of Montaigne, 
 
 As also of the first academicians; 
 That aU is dubious which man may attain. 
 
 Was one of their most favourite positions. 
 There's no such thing as certainty, that's plain 
 
 As any of Mortahty's conditions; 
 So little do we know what we're about in 
 This world, I doubt if doubt itself be doubting. 
 
CANTO IX. DON JUAN. 87 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 It is a pleasant voyage perhaps to float. 
 
 Like Pyrrhoj on a sea of speculation; 
 But what if carrying sail capsize the boat.'' 
 
 Your wise men don't know much of navigation; 
 And swimming long in the abyss of thought 
 
 Is apt to tire: a calm and shallow station 
 Well nigh the shore, where one stoops down andgathers 
 Some pretty shell, is best for moderate bathers. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 "But heaven/' as Cassio says, '4s above all — 
 No more of this then, let us pray !" We have 
 
 Souls to save, since Eve's slip and Adam's fall, 
 Which tumbled all mankind into the grave. 
 
 Besides fish, beasts, and birds. " The sparrow's fall 
 Is special providence," though how it gave 
 
 Offence, we know not; probably it perch'd 
 
 Upon the tree which Eve so fondly search'd. 
 
 Oh ! ye immortal Gods ! what is theogony ? 
 
 Oh! thou too mortal man! what is philanthropy? 
 Oh ! world, which was and is, what is cosmogony ? 
 
 Some people have accused me of misanthropy; 
 And yet I know no more than the mahogany 
 
 That forms this desk, of what they mean ; lykanthropy 
 I comprehend, for without transformation 
 Men become wolves on any slight occasion. 
 
88 DON JUAN. CANTO ix. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 But I, the mildest, meekest of mankind. 
 Like Moses, or Melancthon, who have ne'er 
 
 Done any thing exceedingly unkind, — 
 
 And (though I could not now and then forbear 
 
 Following the bent of body or of mind) 
 Have always had a tendency to spare, — 
 
 Why do they caU me misanthrope? Because 
 
 They hate me, not I them: — and here we'll pause. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 'Tis time we should proceed with our good poem, — 
 
 For I maintain that it is really good. 
 Not only in the body, but the proem. 
 
 However little both are understood 
 Just now, — but by and by the Truth will show 'em 
 
 Herself in her sublimest attitude: 
 And tiU she doth, I fain must be content 
 To share her beauty and her banishment. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Our hero (and, I trust_, kind reader! yours — ) 
 Was left upon his way to the chief city 
 
 Of the immortal Peter's polish'd boors, (^witty. 
 
 Who still have shown themselves more brave than 
 
 I know its mighty empire now allures 
 
 Much flattery— even Voltaire's, and that's a pity. 
 
 For me, I deem an absolute autocrat 
 
 JVot a barbarian, but much worse than that. 
 
CANTO IX. 
 
 DON JUAN. 
 
 89 
 
 And I will war, at least in words (and — should 
 My chance so happen — deeds) with all who war 
 
 With Thoughtj— and of Thought's foes by far most 
 Tyrants and sycophants have been and are. [[rude, 
 
 I know not who may conquer: if I could 
 Have such a prescience, it should be no bar 
 
 To this my plain, sworn, downright detestation 
 
 Of every despotism in every nation. 
 
 ■/ 
 
 It is not that I adulate the people: 
 
 Without me, there are demagogues enough, 
 
 And infidels, to pull down every steeple. 
 And set up in their stead some proper stuff. 
 
 Whether they may sow scepticism to reap heU, 
 As is the Christian dogma rather rough, 
 
 I do not know; — I wish men to be free 
 
 As much from mobs as kings — from you as me. 
 
 The consequence is, being of no party, 
 I shall offend aU parties: — never mind! 
 
 My words, at least, are more sincere and hearty 
 Than if I sought to sail before the wind. 
 
 He who has nought to gain can have small art: he 
 Who neither wishes to be bound or bind. 
 
 May still expatiate freely, as wiU I, 
 
 Nor give my voice to slavery's jackall cry. 
 
90 DON JUAN. CANTO IX. 
 
 That's an appropriate simile^ thatjackall; — 
 I 've heard them in the Ephesian ruins howl 
 
 By night, as do that mercenary pack all. 
 
 Power's base purveyors, who for pickings prowl^ 
 
 And scent the prey their masters would attack all. 
 However, the poor jackalls are less foul 
 
 (As being the brave lions' keen providers) 
 
 Than human insects, catering for spiders. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Raise but an arm ! 't will brush their web away. 
 And without that, their poison and their claws 
 
 Are useless. Mind, good people! what I say — 
 (Or rather peoples) — go on without pause ! 
 
 The web of these tarantulas each day 
 
 Increases, till you shall make common cause: 
 
 None, save the Spanish fly and Attic bee. 
 
 As yet are strongly stinging to be free. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Don Juan, who had shone in the late slaughter. 
 Was left upon his way with the despatch. 
 
 Where blood was talk'd of as we would of water; 
 And carcasses that lay as thick as thatch 
 
 O'er silenced cities, merely served to flatter 
 
 Fair Catherine's pastime — who look'd on the match 
 
 Between these nations as a main of cocks. 
 
 Wherein she liked her own to stand like rocks. 
 
CANTO IX. DON JUAN. 91 
 
 XXX. 
 
 And there in a kibitka he roU'd on 
 
 (A cursed sort of carriage without springs^ 
 
 Which on rough roads leaves scarcely a whole bone), 
 Pondering on glory^ chivalry, and kings. 
 
 And orders, and on all that he had done — - 
 And wishing that post-horses had the wings 
 
 Of Pegasus, or at the least post-chaises 
 
 Had feathers, when a traveller on deep ways is. 
 
 xxxr. 
 
 At every jolt — and th^y were many — still 
 He turn'd his eyes upon his little charge. 
 
 As if he wish'd that she should fare less ill 
 Than he, in these sad highways left at large 
 
 To ruts, and flints, and lovely Nature's skill. 
 Who is no paviour, nor admits a barge 
 
 On her canals, where God takes sea and land. 
 
 Fishery and farm, both into his own hand. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 At least he pays no rent, and has best right 
 To be the first of what we used to call 
 
 "Gentlemen farmers" — a race worn out quite. 
 Since lately there have been no rents at all. 
 
 And "gentlemen" are in a piteous plight, 
 
 And "farmers" can't raise Ceres from her fall: 
 
 She fell with Buonaparte — What strange thoughts 
 
 Arise, when we see emperors fall with oats ! 
 
92 DON JUAN. canto ix. 
 
 XXXXII. 
 
 But Juan turn'd his eyes on the sweet child 
 
 AVhom he had saved from slaughter — -what a trophy ! 
 
 Oh ! ye who build up monuments^ defiled 
 
 With gore, like Nadir Shah, that costive sophy. 
 
 Who, after leaving Hindostan a wild. 
 And scarce to the Mogul a cup of coffee 
 
 To soothe his woes withal, was slain, the sinner ! 
 
 Because he could no more digest his dinner; — t^) 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Oh ye ! or we ! or he ! or she ! reflect. 
 That one life saved, especially if young 
 
 Or pretty, is a thing to recollect 
 
 Far sweeter than the greenest laurels sprung 
 
 From the manure of human clay, though deck'd 
 With all the praises ever said or sung: 
 
 Though hymn'd by every harp, unless within 
 
 Your heart joins chorus. Fame is but a din. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Oh ! ye great authors luminous, voluminous ! 
 
 Ye twice ten hundred thousand daily scribes ! 
 Whose pamphlets, volumes, newspapers, illumine us! 
 
 ^VTiether you're paid by government in bribes, 
 To prove the public debt is not consuming us — 
 
 Or, roughly treading on the "courtier's kibes" 
 With clownish heel, your popular circulation 
 Feeds you by printing half the realm's starvation; — 
 
CANTO IX. DON JUAN. 93 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Oh, ye great authors! — "Apropos des bottes/' 
 I have forgotten what I meant to say, 
 
 As sometimes have been greater sages' lots; — 
 'Twas something calculated to allay 
 
 All wrath in barracks^ palaces, or cots: 
 
 Certes it would have been but thrown away, 
 
 And that's one comfort for my lost advice, 
 
 Although no doubt it was beyond all price. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 But let it go : — it will one day be found 
 With other relics of " a i"ormer world," 
 
 ^\''hen this world shall he former, underground. 
 Thrown topsy-turvy, twisted, crisp'd, and curl'd. 
 
 Baked, fried, or burnt, turn'd inside-out, or drown'd. 
 Like all the worlds before, which have been hurl'd 
 
 First out of, and then back again to chaos. 
 
 The superstratum which will overlay us. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 So Cuvier says; — and then shall come again 
 
 Unto the new creation, rising out 
 From our old crash, some mystic, ancient strain 
 
 Of things destroy'd and left in airy doubt : 
 Like to the notions we now entertain 
 
 Of Titans, giants, fellows of about 
 Some hundred feet in height, not to say miles, 
 And mammoths, and your winged crocodiles. 
 
94 DON JUAN. CANTO ix. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 Think if then George the Fourth should be dug up! 
 
 How the new worldlings of the then new East 
 Will wonder where such animals could sup ! 
 
 (For they themselves wiU be but of the least: 
 Even worlds miscarry, when too oft they pup. 
 
 And every new creation hath decreased 
 In size, from overworking the material — 
 Men are but maggots of some huge Earth's burial.) 
 
 XL. 
 
 How will — to these young people, just thrust out 
 From some fresh Paradise, and set to plough. 
 
 And dig, and sweat, and turn themselves about. 
 And plant, and reap, and spin, and grind, and sow, 
 
 TlU all the arts at length are brought about, 
 Especially of war and taxing, — how, 
 
 I say, wiU these great relics, when they see 'em. 
 
 Look like the monsters of a new museum? 
 
 XLI. 
 
 But I am apt to grow too metaphysical : 
 "The time is out of joint," — and so am I; 
 
 I quite forget this poem's merely quizzical. 
 And deviate into matters rather dry. 
 
 I ne'er decide what I shall say, and this I call 
 Much too poetical: men should know why 
 
 They write, and for what end; but, note or text, 
 
 I never know the word which will come next. 
 
CANTO IX. DON JUAN. 95 
 
 XLII. 
 
 So on I ramblCj now and then narrating. 
 Now pondering: — it is time we shoxild narrate. 
 
 I left Don Juan with his horses baiting — 
 Now we'll get o'er the ground at a great rate. 
 
 I shall not be particular in stating 
 
 His journey, we've so many tours of late: 
 
 Suppose him then at Petersburgh; suppose 
 
 That pleasant capital of painted snows; 
 
 XLiir. 
 Suppose him in a handsome uniform; 
 
 A scarlet coat, black facings, a long plume. 
 Waving, like sails new shiver'd in a storm. 
 
 Over a cock'd hat in a crowded room. 
 And brilliant breeches, bright as a Cairn Gorme, 
 
 Of yellow casimire we may presume, 
 White stockings drawn uncurdled as new milk 
 O'er limbs whose symmetry set off the silk; 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 Suppose him sword by side, and hat in hand. 
 Made up by youth, fame, and an army tailor — 
 
 That great enchanter, at whose rod's command 
 Beauty springs forth, and Nature's self turns paler. 
 
 Seeing how Art can make her work more grand 
 (When she don't pin men's limbs in like a jailor),^ — 
 
 Behold him placed as if upon a pillar ! He 
 
 Seems Love turn'd a lieutenant of artillery ! 
 
96 DON JUAN. CANTO ix. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 His bandage slipp'd down into a cravat; 
 
 His wings subdued to epaulettes; his quiver 
 Shrunk to a scabbard, with his arrows at 
 
 His side as a small sword, but sharp as ever; 
 His bow converted into a cock'd hat; 
 
 But still so like, that Psyche were more clever 
 Than some wives (who make blunders no less stupid); 
 If she had not mistaken him for Cupid. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 The courtiers stared, the ladies whisper' d, and 
 The empress smiled : the reigningfavouritefrown'd— 
 
 I quite forget which of them was in hand 
 Just then; as they are rather numerous found, 
 
 ^ITio took by turns that difficult command 
 Since first her majesty was singly crown'd: 
 
 But they were mostly nervous six-foot fellows. 
 
 All fit to make a Patagonian jealous. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 Juan was none of these, but shght and shm. 
 Blushing and beardless ; and yet ne'ertheless 
 
 There was a something in his turn of Kmb, 
 And still more in his eye, which seem'd to express. 
 
 That though he look'd one of the seraphim. 
 There lurk'd a man beneath the spirit's dress. 
 
 Besides, the empress sometimes liked a boy. 
 
 And had just buried the fair-faced Lanskoi. <*' 
 t 
 
CANTO IX, DON JUAN. 97 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 No wonder then that Yermoloflf;, or Moraonoff, 
 
 Or ScherbatofFj or any other off" 
 Or on, might dread her majesty had not room enough 
 
 Within her bosom (which was not too tough) 
 For a new flame; a thought to cast of gloom enough 
 
 Along the aspect^ whether smooth or rough. 
 Of him who, in the language of his station. 
 Then held that "high official situation." 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 O, gentle ladies ! should you seek to know 
 The import of this diplomatic phrase. 
 
 Bid Ireland's Londonderry's Marquesses) show 
 His parts of speech ; and in the strange displays 
 
 Of that odd string of words, all in a row. 
 Which none divine, and every one obeys, 
 
 Perhaps you may pick out some queer no meaning. 
 
 Of that weak wordy harvest the sole gleaning. 
 
 L. 
 
 I think I can explain myself without 
 
 That sad inexplicable beast of prey — 
 That Sphinx, whose words would ever be a doubt. 
 
 Did not his deeds unriddle them each day — 
 That monstrous hieroglyphic — that long spout 
 
 Of blood and water, leaden Castlereagh ! 
 And here I must an anecdote relate. 
 But luckily of no great length or weight. 
 
 VOL. II. H 
 
98 DON JUAN. CANTO IX. 
 
 LI. 
 
 An English lady ask'd of an Italian, 
 What were the actual and official duties 
 
 Of the strange thing, some women set a value on, 
 Which hovers oft ahout some married beauties. 
 
 Called "Cavalier servente?" a Pygmalion 
 
 Whose statues warm (I fear, alas ! too true 'tis) 
 
 Beneath his art. The dame, press'd to disclose them/ 
 
 Said — ''Lady, I beseech you to suppose them." 
 
 LII. 
 
 And thus I supplicate your supposition. 
 And mildest, matron-like interpretation. 
 
 Of the imperial favourite's condition. 
 
 'Twas a high place, the highest in the nation 
 
 In fact, if not in rank ; and the suspicion 
 Of any one's Mtaining to his station. 
 
 No doubt gave pain, where each new pair of shoulders, 
 
 If rather broad, made stocks rise and their holders. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 Juan, I said, was a most beauteous boy. 
 And had retain'd his boyish look beyond 
 
 The usual hirsute seasons which destroy. 
 With beards and whiskers, and the like, the fond 
 
 Patnsian aspect which upset old Troy 
 And founded Doctors' Commons:— I have conn'd 
 
 The history of divorces, which, though chequer'd. 
 
 Calls Ilion's the first damages on record. 
 
CANTO IX. DON JUAN. 99 
 
 LIV. 
 
 And Catherine, who loved all things (save her lord. 
 Who was gone to his place) and pass'd for much. 
 
 Admiring those (by dainty dames abhorr'd) 
 Gigantic gentlemen, yet had a touch 
 
 Of sentiment; and he she most adored 
 Was the lamented Lanskoi, who was such 
 
 A lover as had cost her many a tear. 
 
 And yet but made a middling grenadier. 
 
 LV. 
 
 Oh thou '^teterrima causa" of aU "beUi" — 
 
 Thou gate of Ufe and death^ — thou nondescript ! 
 
 Whence is our exit and our entrance, — well I 
 May pause in pondering how aU souls are dipt 
 
 In thy perennial fountain: — how man fell, I 
 
 Know not, since knowledge saw her branches stript 
 
 Of her first fruit ; but how he falls and rises 
 
 Since, thou hast settled beyond all surmises. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 Some call thee "the worst cause of war," but I 
 Maintain thou art the best: for after aU 
 
 From thee we come, to thee we go, and why 
 To get at thee not batter down a wall. 
 
 Or waste a world? since no one can deny 
 Thou dost replenish worlds both great and small: 
 
 With, or without thee, aU. things at a stand 
 
 Are, or would be, thou sea of life's dry land ! 
 
 H 2 
 
100 DON JUAN. CANTO IX. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 Catherine, who was the grand epitome 
 
 Of that great cause of war, or peace, or what 
 
 You please (it causes all the things which be. 
 So you may take your choice of this or that) — 
 
 Catherine, I say, was very glad to see 
 
 The handsome herald, on whose plumage sat 
 
 Victory; and, pausing as she saw him kneel 
 
 With his despatch, forgot to break the seal. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 Then recollecting the whole empress, nor 
 
 Forgetting quite the woman (which composed 
 
 At least three parts of this great whole), she tore 
 The letter open with an air which posed 
 
 The court, that watch'd each look her visage wore. 
 Until a royal smile at length disclosed 
 
 Fair weather for the day. Though rather spacious, 
 
 Her face was noble, her eyes fine, mouth gracious. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 Great joy was hers, or rather joys: the first 
 Was a ta'en city, thirty thousand slain. 
 
 Glory and triumph o'er her aspect burst. 
 As an East Indian sunrise on the main. 
 
 These quench'd a moment her ambition's thirst — 
 So Arab deserts drink in summer's rain: 
 
 In vain ! — As fall the dews on quenchless sands. 
 
 Blood only serves to wash Ambition's hands ! 
 
CANTO IX. DON JUAN. 101 
 
 LX. 
 
 Her next amusement was more fanciful; 
 
 She smiled at mad Suwarrow's rhymes^, who threw 
 Into a Russian couplet rather dull 
 
 The whole gazette of thousands whom he slew. 
 Her third was feminine enough to annul 
 
 The shudder which runs naturally through 
 Our veinsj when things call'd sovereigns think it best 
 To kiU, and generals turn it into jest. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 The two first feehngs ran their course complete. 
 And lighted first her eye, and then her mouth : 
 
 The whole court look'd immediately most sweet. 
 Like flowers well water'd after a long drouth: — 
 
 But when on the lieutenant at her feet 
 Her majesty, who liked to gaze on youth 
 
 Almost as much as on a new despatch, 
 
 Glanced mildly, all the world was on the watch. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 Though somewhat large, exuberant, and truculent. 
 When wroth; while pleased, she was as fine a figure 
 
 As those who like things rosy, ripe, and succulent. 
 Would wish to look on, while they are in vigour. 
 
 She could repay each amatory look you lent 
 With interest, and in turn was wont with rigour 
 
 To exact of Cupid's bills the full amount 
 
 At sight, nor would permit you to discount. 
 
102 DON JUAN. CANTO IX. 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 With her the latter, though at times convenient, 
 
 Was not so necessary; for they tell 
 Thatshewashandsome, and though fierce /oo/cVlenient, 
 
 And always used her favourites too well. 
 If once beyond her boudoir's precincts in ye went. 
 
 Your "fortune" was in a fair way "to swell 
 A man" (as Giles says) C); for though she would widow all 
 Nations, she liked man as an individual. 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 What a strange thing is man ! and what a stranger 
 Is woman ! What a whirlwind is her head. 
 
 And what a whirlpool full of depth and danger 
 Is all the rest about her ! TVTiether wed. 
 
 Or widow, maid or mother, she can change her 
 Mind Hke the wind : whatever she has said 
 
 Or done, is light to what she'll say or do; — 
 
 The oldest thing on record, and yet new! 
 
 LXV. 
 
 Oh Catherine! (for of all interjections. 
 To thee both oh! and ah! belong of right 
 
 In love and war) how odd are the connexions 
 Of human thoughts, which jostle in their flight! 
 
 Just uovi^ yours were cut out in different sections: 
 First Ismail's capture caught your fancy quite; 
 
 Next of new knights, the fresh and glorious batch; 
 
 And thirdly he who brought you the despatch! 
 
CANTO IX. DON JUAN. 103 
 
 Lxvr. 
 Shakspeare talks of "the herald Mercury 
 
 New hghted on a heaven-kissing hill;" 
 And some such visions cross'd her majesty. 
 
 While her young herald knelt before her still. 
 'Tis very true the hiU seem'd rather high. 
 
 For a lieutenant to climb up; but skill [^blessing 
 Smooth'd even the Simplon's steep, and by God's 
 With youth and health all kisses are "heaven-kissing." 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 Her majesty look'd down, the youth look'd up — 
 And so they fell in love; — She with his face. 
 
 His grace, his God-knows- what : for Cupid's cup 
 With the first draught intoxicates apace, 
 
 A quintessential laudanum or '''^black drop," 
 
 Which makes one drunk at once, without the base 
 
 Expedient of full bumpers; for the eye 
 
 In love drinks all life's fountains (save tears) dry. 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 He, on the other hand, if not in love. 
 Fell into that no less imperious passion. 
 
 Self-love — which, when some sort of thing above 
 Ourselves, a singer, dancer, much in fashion. 
 
 Or duchess, princess, empress, "^ deigns to prove" 
 ('Tis Pope's phrase) a great longing, though a rash one, 
 
 For one especial person out of many. 
 
 Makes us believe ourselves as good as any. 
 
1 04 DON JUAN. CANTO IX. 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 Besides, he was of that delighted age 
 
 Which makes all female ages equal — when 
 
 We don't much care with whom we may engage. 
 As bold as Daniel in the lion's den. 
 
 So that we can our native sun assuage 
 
 In the next ocean, which may flow just then, 
 
 To make a twilight in, just as Sol's heat is 
 
 Quench'd in the lap of the salt sea, or Thetis. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 And Catherine (we must say thus much for Catherine), 
 Though bold and bloody, was the kind of thing 
 
 Whose temporary passion was quite flattering. 
 Because each lover look'd a sort of king. 
 
 Made up upon an amatory pattern, 
 A royal husband in aU save the ring — 
 
 Which, being the damn'dest part of matrimony, 
 
 Seem'd taking out the sting to leave the honey. 
 
 LXSI. 
 
 And when you add to this, her womanhood 
 In its meridian, her blue eyes, or gray — 
 
 (The last, if tliey have soul, are quite as good. 
 Or better, as the best examples say : 
 
 Napoleon's, Mary's (queen of Scotland) should 
 Lend to that colour a transcendent ray; 
 
 And Pallas also sanctions the same hue. 
 
 Too wise to look through optics black or blue) — 
 
CANTO IX. DON JUAN. ]05 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 Her sweet smile^ and her then majestic figure. 
 Her plumpness, her imperial condescension. 
 
 Her preference of a boy to men much bigger 
 (Fellows whom MessaUna's self would pension). 
 
 Her prime of life, just now in juicy vigour. 
 With other extras, which we need not mention, — 
 
 All these, or any one of these, explain 
 
 Enough to make a stripling very vain, 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 And that's enough, for love is vanity. 
 
 Selfish in its beginning as its end. 
 Except where 'tis a mere insanity, 
 
 A maddening spirit which would strive to blend 
 Itself with beauty's frail inanity. 
 
 On which the passion's self seems to depend : 
 And hence some heathenish philosophers 
 Make love the main spring of the universe. 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 Besides Platonic love, besides the love 
 Of God, the love of sentiment, the loving 
 
 Of faithful pairs — (I needs must rhyme with dove, 
 That good old steam-boat which keeps verses moving 
 
 'Gainst reason — Reason ne'er was hand-and-glove 
 With rhyme, but always leant less to improving 
 
 The sound than sense) — besides aU these pretences 
 
 To love, there are those things which words name 
 senses; 
 
] 06 DON JUAN. CANTO IX. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 Those movements, those improvements in our bodies, 
 Which make all bodies anxious to get out 
 
 Of their own sand-pits, to mix with a goddess, 
 For such all women are at first no doubt. 
 
 How beautiful that moment ! and how odd is 
 That fever which precedes the languid rout 
 
 Of our sensations ! What a curious way 
 
 The whole thing is of clothing souls in clay! 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 The noblest kind of love is love PJatonical, 
 To end or to begin with; the next grand 
 
 Is that which may be christen'd love canonical. 
 Because the clergy take the thing in hand ; 
 
 The third sort to be noted in our chronicle 
 As flourishing in every Christian land. 
 
 Is, when chaste matrons to their other ties 
 
 Add what may be caU'd marriage in disguise. 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 Well, we won't analyze — our story must 
 TeU for itself: the sovereign was smitten, 
 
 Juan much flatter'd by her love, or lust;— 
 I cannot stop to alter words once vvritten. 
 
 And the two are so mix'd with human dust. 
 
 That he who names one, both perchance may hit on ; 
 
 But in such matters Russia's mighty empress 
 
 Behaved no better than a common sempstress. 
 
CANTO IX. DON JUAN. 107 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 The whole court melted into one wide whisper_, 
 And all lips were applied unto all ears ! 
 
 The elder ladies' wrinkles curl'd much crisper 
 As they beheld; the younger cast some leers 
 
 On one another^ and each lovely lisper 
 
 Smiled as she talk'd the matter o'er; but tears 
 
 Of rivalship rose in each clouded eye 
 
 Of all the standing army who stood by. 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 All the ambassadors of all the powers 
 
 Inquired^ Who was this very new young man^ 
 
 Who promised to be great in some few hours .^ 
 Which is full soon (though life is but a span.) 
 
 Already they beheld the silver showers 
 Of rubles rain^ as fast as specie can^ 
 
 Upon his cabinet^ besides the presents 
 
 Of several ribands^ and some thousand peasants. 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 Catherine was generous, — aU such ladies are : 
 Love, that great opener of the heart and all 
 
 The ways that lead there, be they near or far. 
 Above, below, by turnpikes great or smaU, — 
 
 Love — (though she had a cursed taste for war, 
 And was not the best wife, unless we call 
 
 Such Clytemnestra, though perhaps 'tis better 
 
 That one should die, than two drag on the fetter) — 
 
108 DON JUAN. CANTO IX. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 Love had made Catherine make each lover's fortune^ 
 Unlike our ovni half-chaste Elizabeth, 
 
 Whose avarice all disbursements did importune, 
 If history, the grand Uar, ever saith 
 
 The truth ; and though grief her old age might shorten, 
 Because she put a favourite to death. 
 
 Her vile, ambiguous method of flirtation. 
 
 And stinginess, disgrace her sex and station. 
 
 LXXXTI. 
 
 But when the levee rose, and all was bustle 
 In the dissolving circle, all the nations' 
 
 Ambassadors began as 't were to hustle 
 
 Round the young man with their congratulations. 
 
 Also the softer silks were heard to rustle 
 Of gentle dames, among whose recreations 
 
 It is to speculate on handsome faces. 
 
 Especially when such lead to high places. 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 Juan, who found himself, he knew not how, 
 
 A general object of attention, made 
 His answers with a very graceful bow. 
 
 As if born for the ministerial trade. 
 Though modest, on his unembarrass'd brow 
 
 Nature had written "gentleman." He said 
 Little, but to the purpose; and his manner 
 Flung hovering graces o'er him like a banner. 
 
CANTO IX. DON JUAN. 109 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 An order from her majesty consign'd 
 Our young lieutenant to the genial care 
 
 Of those in office: all the world look'd kind 
 (As it will look sometimes with the first stare^, 
 
 Which youth would not act ill to keep in mind)^ 
 As also did Miss ProtasofF then there^ 
 
 Named from her mystic office "I'Eprouveuse/' 
 
 A term inexplicable to the Muse. 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 With her then, as in humble duty bound, 
 
 Juan retired, — and so will 1, until 
 My Pegasus shall tire of touching ground. 
 
 We have just lit on a '^^ heaven-kissing hill," 
 So lofty that I feel my brain turn round. 
 
 And all my fancies whirhng like a mill ; 
 Which is a signal to my nerves and brain. 
 To take a quiet ride in some green lane. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO IX. 
 
 Note 1, page 81, stanza i. 
 
 Humanity/ would rise, and thunder " Nay .'" 
 
 Query — Ney ? Printer's devil. 
 
 Note 2, page 83, stanza vi. 
 And send the sentinel hefote your gate. 
 " I at this time got a post, being for fatigue, witii four others. 
 We were sent to breali biscuit, and make a mess for Lord Wel- 
 lington's hounds. I was very hungry, and thought it a good job 
 at the time, as we got our own fill while we broke the biscuit, — a 
 thing I hadnot got for some days. When thus engaged, the Prodi- 
 gal Son was never once out of my mind ; and I sighed, as I fed the 
 dogs, over my humble situation and my ruined hopes." — Journal 
 of a Soldier of the list Regiment during- the War in Spain. 
 
 Note 3, page 92, stanza xxxiii. 
 
 To soothe his woes withal, ivas slain, the sinner ! 
 Because he could no more digest his dinner. 
 
 He was killed in a conspiracy, after his temper had been ex- 
 asperated by his extreme costivity to a degree of insanity. 
 
 Note 4, page 96, stanza xlvii. 
 And had just buried the fair-faeed Lanskoi. 
 He was the " grande passion" of the grande Catherine. — See 
 her Lives under the head of " Lanskoi." 
 
 Note 5, page 97, stanza xlix. 
 
 ■eland's Londonderry's Marques 
 irts of speech. 
 
 This was written long before the suicide of that person. 
 
 Bid Ireland's Londonderry's Marquess show 
 His parts of speech. 
 
112" NOTES TO CANTO IX. 
 
 Note 6, page 102, stanza Ixiii. 
 
 Your " Fortune" was in a fair way " to swell 
 A man" (as Giles says). 
 
 ' " His fortune swells him, it is rank, he's married."— Sir Giles 
 Overreach ; Massinger. See " A new Way to pay old Debts." 
 
BON JUAN. 
 
 CANTO X. 
 
 'W^HEN Newton saw an apple fall;, he found 
 In that slight startle from his contemplation — 
 
 'Tis said (for I'll not answer above ground 
 For any sage's creed or calculation) — 
 
 A mode of proving that the earth turn'd round 
 In a most natural whirl, called '^'^ gravitation;" 
 
 And this is the sole mortal who could grapple. 
 
 Since Adam, with a fall, or with an apple. 
 
 II. 
 Man fell with apples, and with apples rose. 
 
 If this be true; for we must deem the mode 
 In which Sir Isaac Newton could disclose 
 
 Through the then unpaved stars the turnpike road, 
 A thing to counterbalance human woes: 
 
 For ever since immortal man hath glow'd 
 With all kinds of mechanics, and full soon 
 Steam-engines will conduct him to the moon. 
 
 VOL. II. I 
 
114 DON JUAN. CANTO : 
 
 III. 
 And wherefore this exordium?— Why, just now, 
 ■ In taking up this paltry sheet of paper. 
 My bosom underwent a glorious glow. 
 And my internal spirit cut a caper: 
 And though so much inferior, as I know. 
 
 To those who, by the dint of glass and vapour. 
 Discover stars, and sail in the wind's eye, 
 I wish to do as much by poesy. 
 
 IV. 
 
 In the wind's eye I have sail'd, and sail; but for 
 The stars, I own my telescope is dim; 
 
 But at the least I have shunn'd the common shore, 
 And leaving land far out of sight, would skim 
 
 The ocean of eternity : the roar 
 Of breakers has not daunted my slight, trim, 
 
 But still sea- worthy skiflF; and she may float 
 
 "Where ships have founder'd, as doth many a boat. 
 
 V. 
 
 We left our hero, Juan, in the bloom 
 
 Of favouritism, but not yet in the blush; — 
 
 And far be it from my Muses to presume 
 (For I have more than one Muse at a push) 
 
 To follow him beyond the drawing-room : 
 It is enough that Fortune found him flush 
 
 Of youth, and vigour, beauty, and those things 
 
 "\rhich for an instant clip enjoyment's wings. 
 
CANTO X. DON JUAN. 115 
 
 VI. 
 
 But soon they grow again and leave their nest. 
 
 "Oh!" saith the Psalmist, "^that I had a dove's 
 Pinions to flee away, and be at rest !" 
 
 And who that recollects young years and loves, — 
 Thougii hoary now, and with a withering breast. 
 
 And palsied fancy, which no longer roves j^rather 
 Beyond its diram'd eye's sphere,— but would much 
 Sigh like his son, than cough like his grandfather? 
 
 vn. 
 But sighs subside, and tears (even widows') shrink. 
 
 Like Arno in the summer, to a shallow. 
 So narrow as to shame their wintry brink. 
 
 Which threatens inundations deep and yellow ! 
 Such difference doth a few months make. You 'd think 
 
 Grief a rich field which never would he fallow ; 
 No more it doth, its ploughs but change their boys. 
 Who furrow some new soil to sow for joys. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 But coughs will come when sighs depart — and now 
 And then before sighs cease ; for oft the one 
 
 Will bring the other, ere the lake-like brow 
 Is ruffled by a wrinkle, or the sun 
 
 Of life reach'd ten o'clock: and while a glow. 
 Hectic and brief as summer's day nigh done, 
 
 O'erspreads the cheek which seems too pure for clay. 
 
 Thousands blaze, love, hope, die, — ^how happy they ! — 
 
 I 2 
 
116 DON JUAN. CANTO X. 
 
 IX. 
 
 But Juan was not meant to die so soon. 
 
 We left him in the focus of such glory 
 As may be won by favour of the moon 
 
 Or ladies' fancies — rather transitory 
 Perhaps; but who wovdd scorn the month of June, 
 
 Because December, with his breath so hoary. 
 Must come? Much rather should he court the ray. 
 To hoard up warmth against a wintry day. 
 
 X. 
 
 Besides, he had some qualities which fix 
 
 Middle-aged ladies even more than young : (^chicks 
 
 The former know what's what; while new-fledged 
 Know little more of love than what is sung 
 
 In rhymes, or dreamt (for fancy wiU play tricks) 
 In visions of those skies from whence Love sprung. 
 
 Some reckon women by their suns or years, 
 
 I rather think the moon should date the dears. 
 
 XI. 
 
 And why.? because she's changeable and chaste. 
 
 I know no other reason, whatsoe'er 
 Suspicious people, who find fault in haste. 
 
 May choose to tax me with ; w^hich is not fair. 
 Nor flattering to "their temper or their taste," 
 
 As my friend Jefii-ey writes with such an air : 
 However, I forgive him, and I trust 
 He will forgive himself; — if not, I must. 
 
CANTO X. DON JUAN. 117 
 
 XII. 
 
 Old enemies who have become new friends 
 Should so continue — 'tis a point of honour; 
 
 y\nd I know nothing which could make amends 
 For a return to hatred: I would shun her 
 
 Like garlic, howsoever she extends 
 Her hundred arras and legs, and fain outrun her. 
 
 Old flames, new wives^ become our bitterest foes — 
 
 Converted foes should scorn to join with those. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 This were the worst desertion: — renegadoes^ 
 Even shuffling Southey, that incarnate lie^ 
 
 \Fould scarcely join again the "reformadoes,"'^) 
 Whom he forsook to fill the laureate's sty: 
 
 And honest men from Iceland to Barbadoes, 
 Whether in Caledon or Italy, 
 
 Should not veer round with every breath, nor seize 
 
 To pain, the moment when you cease to please. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 The lawyer and the critic but behold 
 
 The baser sides of literature and life. 
 And nought remains unseen, but much untold. 
 
 By those who scour those double vales of strife. 
 While common men grow ignorantly old. 
 
 The lawyer's brief is hke the surgeon's knife. 
 Dissecting the whole inside of a question, 
 And with it all the process of digestion. 
 
118 DON JUAN. CANTO X. 
 
 XV. 
 
 A legal broom's a moral chimney-sweeper, 
 And that's the reason he himself s so dirty; 
 
 The endless soot(=^) bestows a tint far deeper 
 Than can be hid by altering his shirt; he 
 
 Retains the sable stains of the dark creeper, 
 At least some twenty-nine do out of thirty, 
 
 In all their habits; — not so you, I own; 
 
 As Caesar wore his robe you wear your gown. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 And all our little feuds^ at least aU mine, 
 Dear Jeffrey, once ray most redoubted foe 
 
 (As far as rhyme and criticism combine 
 To make such puppets of us things below). 
 
 Are over: Here's a health to "Auld Lang Syne!" 
 I do not know you, and may never know 
 
 Your face — but you have acted on the whole 
 
 Most nobly, and I own it from my soul. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 And when 1 use the phrase of "Auld Lang Syne!" 
 'Tis not address'd to you — the more's the pity 
 
 For me, for I would rather take my wine 
 
 With you, than aught (save Scott) in your proud city. 
 
 But somehow, — it may seem a schoolboy's whine. 
 And yet I seek not to be grand nor witty. 
 
 But I am half a Scot by birth, and bred 
 
 A whole one, and my heart flies to my head, — 
 
CANTO X. DON JUAN. 119 
 
 XVIII, 
 
 As "Auld Lang Syne" brings Scotland, one and all, 
 Scotch plaids, Scotch snoods, the blue hills, and clear 
 streams. 
 
 The Dee, the Don, Balgounie's brig's black wall, (^* 
 All my boy feelings, all my gentler dreams 
 
 Of what I then dreamt, clothed in their own pall. 
 Like Banquo's offspring ; — floating past me seems 
 
 My childhood in this childishness of mine : 
 
 I care not — 'tis a glimpse of "Auld Lang Syne." 
 
 XIX. 
 
 And though, as you remember, in a fit 
 
 Of wrath and rhyme, when juvenile and curly, 
 
 I rail'd at Scots to show my wrath and wit, 
 Which must be own'd was sensitive and surly. 
 
 Yet 'tis in vain such sallies to permit, 
 They cannot quench young feelings fresh and early : 
 
 I " scotch' d not kill'd" the Scotchman in my blood. 
 
 And love the land of "^ mountain and of flood." 
 
 XX. 
 
 Don Juan, who was real, or ideal, — 
 
 For both are much the same, since what men think 
 Exists when the once thinkers are less real 
 
 Than what they thought, for mind can never sink, 
 And 'gainst the body makes a strong appeal; 
 
 And yet 'tis very puzzling on the brink 
 Of what is call'd eternity, to stare. 
 And know no more of what is here, than there; — 
 
120 DON JUAN. 
 
 Don Juan grew a very polish'd Russian — 
 
 How we won't mention^ why we need not say: 
 
 Few youthful minds can stand the strong concussion 
 Of any shght temptation in their way; 
 
 But his just now were spread as is a cushion 
 Smooth'd for a monarch's seat of honour: gay 
 
 Damsels, and dances^, revels, ready money. 
 
 Made ice seem paradise, and winter sunny. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 The favour of the empress was agreeahle; 
 
 And though the duty wax'd a little hard. 
 Young people at his time of hfe should be able 
 
 To come off handsomely in that regard. 
 He was now growing up like a green tree, able 
 
 For love, war, or ambition, which reward 
 Their luckier votaries, till old age's tedium 
 Make some prefer the circulating medium. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 About this time, as might have been anticipated. 
 Seduced by youth and dangerous examples, 
 
 Don Juan grew, I fear, a Uttle dissipated; 
 ^^Tiich is a sad thing, and not only tramples 
 
 On our fresh feelings, but — as being participated 
 With all kinds of incorrigible samples 
 
 Of frail humanity — must make us selfish. 
 
 And shut our souls up in us like a shell-fish. 
 
CANTO X. DON JUAN. 121 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 This we pass over. We will also pass 
 The usual progress of intrigues between 
 
 Unequal matches^, such as are^ alas ! 
 
 A young lieutenant's with a not old queen^ 
 
 But one who is not so youthful as she was 
 In all the royalty of sweet seventeen. 
 
 Sovereigns may sway materials^ but not matter. 
 
 And wrinkles, the d d democrats, won't flatter. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 And Death, the sovereign's sovereign, though the great 
 
 Gracchus of all mortality, who levels. 
 With his Agrarian laws, the high estate 
 
 Of him who feasts, and fights, and roars, and revels. 
 To one small grass-grown patch (which must await 
 
 Corruption for its crop) with the poor devils 
 Who never had a foot of land tiU now, — 
 Death's a reformer, aU men must allow. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 He lived (not Death, but Juan) in a hurry 
 Of waste, and haste, and glare, and gloss, and glitter. 
 
 In this gay clime of bear-skins black and furry — 
 Which (though I hate to say a thing that's bitter) 
 
 Peep out sometimes, when things are in a flurry. 
 Through all the "purple and fine linen," fitter 
 
 For Babylon's than Russia's royal harlot — 
 
 And neutralize her outward show of scarlet. 
 
122 DON JUAN. CANTO X. 
 
 XXVIl. 
 
 And this same state we won't describe: we would 
 Perhaps from hearsay, or from recollection; 
 
 But getting nigh grim Dante's ''obscure wood," 
 That horrid equinox, that hateful section 
 
 Of human years, that half-way house, that rude 
 Hut, whence wise travellers drive with circumspection 
 
 Life's sad post-horses o'er the dreary frontier 
 
 Of age, and looking back to youth, give one tear; — 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 I won't describe, — that is, if I can help 
 Description; and I won't reflect — that is, 
 
 I f I can stave off" thought, which— as a whelp 
 Clings to its teat — sticks to me through the abyss 
 
 Of this odd labyrinth; or as the kelp 
 Holds by the rock; or as a lover's kiss 
 
 Drains its first draught of hps: — but, as I said, 
 
 I won't philosophize, and will be read, 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Juan, instead of courting courts, was courted, 
 A thing which happens rarely : this he owed 
 
 Much to his youth, and much to his reported 
 Valour; much also to the blood he show'd. 
 
 Like a race-horse; much to each dress he sported. 
 Which set the beauty off in which he glow'd, 
 
 As purple clouds befringe the sun; but most 
 
 He owed to an old woman and his post. 
 
CANTO X, DON JUAN. 123 
 
 XXX. 
 
 He wrote to Spain:— and all bis near relations,, 
 Perceiving he was in a handsome way 
 
 Of getting on himself, and finding stations 
 For cousins also, answer'd the same day. 
 
 Several prepared themselves for emigrations; 
 And eating ices, were o'erheard to say. 
 
 That with the addition of a slight pelisse, 
 
 Madrid's and Moscow's climes were of a-piece. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 His mother. Donna Inez, finding too 
 
 That in the lieu of drawing on liis banker, 
 
 Where his assets were waxing rather few. 
 
 He had brought his spending to a handsome anchor, — 
 
 Replied, "that she was glad to see him through 
 Those pleasures after which wild youth will hanker ; 
 
 As the sole sign of man's being in his senses 
 
 Is, learning to reduce his past expenses. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 " She also recommended him to God, 
 And no less to God's Son, as well as Mother, 
 
 Warn'd him against Greek worship, which looks odd 
 In Catholic eyes; but told him too to smother 
 
 Outward dislike, which don't look well abroad; 
 Inform'd him that he had a little brother 
 
 Born in a second wedlock; and above 
 
 All, praised the empress's maternal love. 
 
124 DON JUAN. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 "She could not too much give her approbation 
 Unto an empress^ who preferr'd young men 
 
 Whose age^ and what was better still, whose nation 
 And chmate, stopp'd all scandal (now and then):- 
 
 At home it might have given her some vexation; 
 But where thermometers sunk down to ten. 
 
 Or five, or one, or zero, she could never 
 
 Believe that virtue thaw'd before the river." 
 
 xxxiv. 
 Oh for db forty-parson power (■*' to chant 
 
 Thy praise. Hypocrisy ! Oh for a hymn 
 Loud as the virtues thou dost loudly vaunt. 
 
 Not practise ! Oh for trumps of cherubim ! 
 Or the ear-trumpet of my good old aunt, 
 
 ^VTio, though her spectacles at last grew dim. 
 Drew quiet consolation through its hint. 
 When she no more could read the pious print. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 She was no hypocrite at least, poor soul, 
 But went to heaven in as sincere a way 
 
 As any body on the elected roll. 
 
 Which portions out upon the judgment day 
 
 Heaven's freeholds, in a sort of doomsday scroll. 
 Such as the conqueror William did repay 
 
 His knights with, lotting others' properties 
 
 Into some sixty thousand new knights' fees. 
 
CANTO X. DON JUAN. ]25 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 I can't complain, whose ancestors are there, 
 ErneiSj Radulphus — eight-and-forty manors 
 
 (If that my memory doth not greatly err) 
 Were their reward for following Billy's banners ; 
 
 And though I can't help thinking 'twas scarce fair 
 To strip the Saxons of their hydes, <'^> like tanners; 
 
 Yet as they founded churches with the produce. 
 
 You '11 deem, no doubt, they put it to a good use. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 Tiie gentle Juan flourish'd, though at times 
 He felt like other plants called sensitive, 
 
 ^Yhich shrink from touch, as monarchs do from rhymes. 
 Save such as Southey can afford to give. 
 
 Perhaps he long'd in bitter frosts for climes 
 In which the Neva's ice would cease to live 
 
 Before May-day : perhaps, despite his duty. 
 
 In royalty's vast arms he sigh'd for beauty: 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Perhaps, — but, sans perhaps, we need not seek 
 For causes young or old: the canker-worm 
 
 Will feed upon the fairest, freshest cheek, 
 As well as further drain the wither'd form : 
 
 Care, like a housekeeper, brings every week 
 His bills in, and however we may storm. 
 
 They must be paid : though six days smoothly run^ 
 
 The seventh will bring blue devils or a dun. 
 
126 DON JUAN. CANTO X. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 I don't know how it was, but he grew sick: 
 The empress was alarra'd^ and her physician 
 
 (The same who physick'd Peter) found the tick 
 Of his fierce pulse betoken a condition 
 
 Which augur'd of the dead^ however quick 
 Itself, and show'd a feverish disposition; 
 
 At which the whole court was extremely troubled. 
 
 The sovereign shock' d, and all his medicines doubled. 
 
 XL. 
 
 Low were the whispers, manifold the rumours: 
 Some said he had been poison'd by Potemkin; 
 
 Others talk'd learnedly of certain tumours. 
 Exhaustion, or disorders of the same kin ; 
 
 Some said 'twas a concoction of the humours. 
 Which with the blood too readily will claim kin; 
 
 Others again were ready to maintain, 
 
 "'Twas only the fatigue of last campaign." 
 
 XLI. 
 
 But here is one prescription out of many: 
 "Sodae-sulphat. 3. vi. 3. s. Mannae optim. 
 
 Aq. fervent. F. 3. ifs 3ij. tinct. Sennae 
 Haustus"( And here the surgeon came and cupp'd him) 
 
 "R Pulv. Com. gr. iii. Ipecacuanhae" 
 
 (With more beside if Juan had not stopp'd 'em). 
 
 "Bolus Potassae Sulphuret. sumendus, 
 
 Et Haustus ter in die capiendus." 
 
CANTO X. DON JUAN. 127 
 
 XLII. 
 
 This is the way physicians mend or end us. 
 Secundum artem : but although we sneer 
 
 In health — when ill, we call them to attend us. 
 Without the least propensity to jeer: 
 
 While that "hiatus maxime deflendus" 
 To be fill'd up by spade or mattock 's near, 
 
 Instead of gliding graciously down Lethe, 
 
 We tease mild Baillie, or soft Abernethy. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 Juan demurr'd at this first notice to 
 
 Quit; and though death had threaten'd an ejection. 
 His youth and constitution bore him through, 
 
 And sent the doctors in a new direction. 
 But stiU his state was delicate: the hue 
 
 Of health but flicker'd with a faint reflection 
 Along his wasted cheek, and seem'd to gravel 
 The faculty— who said that he must travel. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 The climate was too cold, they said, for him. 
 Meridian-born, to bloom in. This opinion 
 
 Made the chaste Catherine look a little grim. 
 Who did not like at first to lose her minion : 
 
 But when she saw his dazzling eye wax dim. 
 And drooping like an eagle's with dipt pinion. 
 
 She then resolved to send him on a mission. 
 
 But in a sLyls becoming his condition. 
 
128 DON JUAN. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 There was just then a kind of a discussion, 
 
 A sort of treaty or negotiation 
 Between the British cabinet and Russian, 
 
 Maintain'd with all the due prevarication 
 With which great states such things are apt to push on; 
 
 Something about the Baltic's navigation. 
 Hides, train-oil, tallow, and the rights of Thetis, 
 "\^"hich Britons deem their ^'^uti possidetis." 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 So Catherine, who had a handsome way 
 Of fitting out her favourites, conferr'd 
 
 This secret charge on Juan, to display 
 At once her royal splendour, and reward 
 
 His services. He kiss'd hands the next day. 
 Received instructions how to play his card. 
 
 Was laden with aU kinds of gifts and honours. 
 
 Which show'd what great discernment was the donor's. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 But she was lucky, and luck's all. Your queens 
 Are generally prosperous in reigning; 
 
 "\Fhich puzzles us to know what Fortune means. 
 But to continue: though her years were waning, 
 
 Her climacteric teased her like her teens; 
 
 And though her dignity brook'd no complaining, 
 
 So much did Juan's setting off distress her. 
 
 She could not find at first a fit successor. 
 
CANTO X. DON JUAN. 1 29 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 But time, the comforter, will come at last; 
 
 And four-and-twenty hours, and twice that number 
 Of candidates requesting to be placed. 
 
 Made Catherine taste next night a quiet slumber:— 
 Not that she meant to fix again in haste, 
 
 Nor did she find the quantity encumber. 
 But always choosing with deliberation. 
 Kept the place open for their emulation. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 While this high post of honour's in abeyance. 
 For one or two days, reader, we request 
 
 You'll mount with our young hero the conveyance 
 Which wafted him from Petersburgh : the best 
 
 Barouche, which had the glory to display once 
 The fair czarina's autocratic crest, 
 
 When, a new Iphigene, she went to Tauris, 
 
 Was given to her favourite, (^) and now bore his. 
 
 L. 
 
 A bull-dog, and a bullfinch, and an ermine. 
 All private favourites of Don Juan; — for 
 
 (Let deeper sages the true cause determine) 
 He had a kind of inclination, or 
 
 Weakness, for what most people deem mere vermin. 
 Live animals: an old maid of threescore 
 
 For cats and birds more penchant ne'er display'd, 
 
 Although he was not old, nor even a maid; — 
 
 VOL. II. K 
 
130 DON JUAN. CANTO X. 
 
 LI. 
 
 The animals aforesaid occupied 
 
 Their station : there were valets, secretaries, 
 In other vehicles; but at his side 
 
 Sat little Leila, who survived the parries 
 He made 'gainst Cossacque sabres, in the wide 
 
 Slaughter of Ismail. Though my wild Muse varies 
 Her note, she don't forget the infant girl 
 Whom he preserved, a pure and living, pearl. 
 
 LII. 
 
 Poor little thing ! She was as fair as docile. 
 And with that gentle, serious character. 
 
 As rare in living beings as a fossile 
 
 Man, 'midstthymouldy mammoths, "grandCuvier !" 
 
 Ill fitted was her ignorance to jostle 
 
 "V^'^ith this o'erwhelming world, where all must err : 
 
 But she was yet but ten years old, and therefore 
 
 Was tranquil, though she knew not why or wherefore. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 Don Juan loved her, and she loved him, as 
 Nor brother, father, sister, daughter love. 
 
 I cannot tell exactly what it was; 
 
 He was not yet quite old enough to prove 
 
 Parental feelings, and the other class, 
 
 Call'd brotherly affection, could not move 
 
 His bosom, — for he never had a sister : 
 
 Ah! if he had, how much he would have miss'd her! 
 
CANTO X. DON JUAN. 131 
 
 LIV. 
 
 And still less was it sensual; for besides 
 That he was not an ancient debauchee 
 
 (Who like sour fruity to stir their veins' salt tides, 
 vVs acids rouse a dormant alkali). 
 
 Although {'twill happen as our planet guides) 
 His youth was not the chastest that might be, 
 
 There was the purest platonism at bottom 
 
 Of all his feelings — only he forgot 'em. 
 
 LV. 
 
 Just now there was no peril of temptation; 
 
 He loved the infant orphan he had saved. 
 As patriots (now and then) may love a nation ; 
 
 His pride too felt that she was not enslaved 
 Owing to him ; — as also her salvation 
 
 Through his means and the church's might be paved. 
 But one thing's odd, which here must be inserted. 
 The httle Turk refused to be converted. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 'Twas strange enough she should retain the impression 
 Through such a scene of change, and dread, and 
 slaughter ; 
 
 But though three bishops told her the transgression. 
 She show'd a great dislike to holy water: 
 
 She also had no passion for confession ; 
 
 Perhaps she had nothing to confess: — no matter; 
 
 Whate'er the cause, the church made little of it — 
 
 She still held out that Mahomet was a prophet. 
 
 k2 
 
132 DON JUAN. CANTO X. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 In fact, the only Christian she could bear 
 
 Was Juan ; whom she seem'd to have selected 
 
 In place of what her home and friends once were. 
 He naturally loved what he protected: 
 
 And thus they form'd a rather curious pair, 
 A guardian green in years, a ward connected 
 
 In neither clime, time, blood, with her defender; 
 
 And yet this want of ties made theirs more tender. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 They journey'd on through Poland and through War- 
 Famous for mines of salt and yokes of iron : j^saw. 
 
 Through Courland also, which that famous farce saw 
 "WTiich gave her dukes the graceless name of 
 "Biron."(^) 
 
 'Tis the same landscape which the modem Mars saw, 
 Who march'd to Moscow, led by Fame, the siren ! 
 
 To lose by one month's frost some twenty years 
 
 Of conquest, and his guard of grenadiers. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 Let this not seem an anti-climax: — "Oh! 
 
 Myguard! myoldguard!" exclaim'dthatgodof clay. 
 Think of the Thunderer's falling down below 
 
 Carotid-artery-cutting Castlereagh ! 
 Alas ! that glory should be chiH'd by snow ! 
 
 But should we wish to warm us on our way 
 Through Poland, there is Kosciusko's name 
 Might scatter fire through ice, like Hecla's flame. 
 
CANTO X. DON JUAN. 133 
 
 I.X. 
 
 From Poland they came on through Prussia Proper^ 
 And Konigsberg the capital, whose vaunt. 
 
 Besides some veins of iron, lead, or copper. 
 Has lately been the great Professor Kant. 
 
 Juan, who cared not a tobacco-stopper 
 About philosophy, pursued his jaunt 
 
 To Germany, whose somewhat tardy millions 
 
 Have princes who spur more than their postilUons. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 And thence through Berlin, Dresden, and the like. 
 Until he reach'd the castellated Rhine: 
 
 Ye glorious Gothic scenes ! how much ye strike 
 All phantasies, not even excepting mine; 
 
 A gray wall, a green ruin, rusty pike. 
 Make my soul pass the equinoctial line 
 
 Between the present and past worlds, and hover 
 
 Upon their airy confine, half-seas-over. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 But Juan posted on through Manheim, Bonn, 
 Which Drachenfels frowns over like a spectre 
 
 Of the good feudal times for ever gone. 
 On which I have not time just now to lecture. 
 
 From thence he was<drawn onwards to Cologne, 
 A city which presents to the inspector 
 
 Eleven thousand maidenheads of bone. 
 
 The greatest number flesh hath ever known. (8) 
 
134 DON JUAN. canto x. 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 From thence to Holland's Hague and Helvoetsluys^ 
 That water-land of Dutchmen and of ditches, 
 
 Where juniper expresses its best juice. 
 
 The poor man's sparkling substitute for riches. 
 
 Senates and sages have condemn'd its use — 
 But to deny the mob a cordial, which is 
 
 Too often aU the clothing, meat, or fuel. 
 
 Good government has left them, seems but cruel. 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 Here he embark' d, and with a flowing sail 
 Went bounding for the island of the free, 
 
 Towards which the impatient wind blew half a gale: 
 High dash'd the spray, the bows dipp'd in the sea, 
 
 And sea-sick passengers turn'd somewhat pale; 
 But Juan, season' d, as he well might be. 
 
 By former voyages, stood to watch the skiffs 
 
 \^Tiich pass'd, or catch the first gUmpse of the cliffs. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 At length they rose, like a white wall along 
 The blue sea's border; and Don Juan felt — 
 
 What even young strangers feel a little strong 
 At the first sight of Albion's chalky belt — 
 
 A kind of pride that he should be among 
 
 Those haughty shopkeepers, who sternly dealt 
 
 Their goods and edicts out from pole to pole. 
 
 And made the very biUows pay them toll. 
 
CANTO X. DON JUAN. 135 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 I've no great cause to love that spot of earthy 
 
 Wliich holds what mighthavebeenthendhlestna.tion ; 
 
 But though I owe it little but my birth^ 
 I feel a mix'd regret and veneration 
 
 For its decaying fame and former worth. 
 Seven years (the usual term of transportation) 
 
 Of absence lay one's old resentments level. 
 
 When a man's country's going to the devil. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 Alas ! could she but fully^ truly, know 
 
 How her great name is now throughout abhorr'd; 
 How eager all the earth is for the blow 
 
 Wliich shall lay bare her bosom to the sword; 
 How all the nations deem her their worst foe, 
 
 That worse than worst of foes, the once adored 
 False friend, who held out freedom to mankind. 
 And now would chain them, to the very mind ; — 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 Would she be proud, or boast herself the free. 
 Who is but first of slaves? The nations are 
 
 In prison, — but the jailer, what is he? 
 No less a victim to the bolt and bar. 
 
 Is the poor privilege to turn the key 
 Upon the captive, freedom? He's as far 
 
 From the enjoyment of the earth and air 
 
 Who watches o'er the chain, as they who wear. 
 
136 DON JUAN. 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 Don Juan now saw Albion's earliest beauties,, 
 Thy cliffs, dear Dover! harbour, and hotel; 
 
 Thy custom-house, with all its dehcate duties; 
 Thy waiters running mucks at every bell; 
 
 Thy packets, all whose passengers are booties 
 To those who upon land or water dwell ; 
 
 And last, not least, to strangers uninstructed. 
 
 Thy long, long bills, whence nothing is deducted. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 Juan, though careless, young, and magnifique. 
 And rich in rubles, diamonds, cash, and credit. 
 
 Who did not Hmit much his bills per week. 
 Yet stared at this a little, though he paid it, — 
 
 (His Maggior Duomo, a smart, subtle Greek, 
 Before him summ'd the awful scroll and read it:) 
 
 But doubtless as the air, though seldom sunny. 
 
 Is free, the Tespiration 's worth the money. 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 On with the horses! Off to Canterbury! [[puddle; 
 
 Tramp, tramp o'er pebble, and splash, splash through 
 Hurrah! how swiftly speeds the post so merry! 
 
 Not like slow Germany, wherein they muddle 
 Along the road, as if they went to bury 
 
 Their fare; and also pause besides, to fuddle 
 With "schnapps" — sad dogs! whom "Hundsfot" or 
 
 "Ferflucter" 
 Affect no more than lightning a conductor. 
 
DON JUAN. 13; 
 
 Now there is nothing gives a man such spirits^ 
 Leavening his blood as cayenne doth a curry^ 
 
 As going at full speed — no matter where its 
 Direction he, so 'tis but in a hurry^ 
 
 And merely for the sake of its own merits; 
 For the less cause there is for all this flurry,, 
 
 The greater is the pleasure in arriving 
 
 At the great end of travel — which is driving. 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 They saw at Canterbury the cathedral; 
 
 Black Edward's helm^ and Becket's bloody stone^ 
 Were pointed out as usual by the bedtal, 
 
 In the same quaint^ uninterested tone: — 
 There's glory again for you^ gentle reader! All 
 
 Ends in a rusty casque and dubious bone. 
 Half-solved into those sodas or magnesias, 
 ^VTiich form that bitter draught, the human species. 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 The effect on Juan was of course sublime: 
 He breathed a thousand Cressys, as he saw 
 
 That casque, which never stoop'd except to Time. 
 Even the bold churchman's tomb excited awe. 
 
 Who died in the then great attempt to climb 
 O'er kings, who now at least must talk of law 
 
 Before they butcher. Little Leila gazed. 
 
 And asked why such a structure had been raised : 
 
138 DON JUAN. CANTO x. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 And being told it was "God's house," she said 
 He was well lodged, but only wonder d how 
 
 He sufFer'd Infidels in his homestead. 
 The cruel Nazarenes, who had laid low 
 
 His holy temples in the lands which bred 
 The True Believers; — and her infant brow 
 
 Was bent with grief that Mahomet should resign 
 
 A mosque so noble, flung like pearls to swine. 
 
 LXXVl. 
 
 On, on, through meadows, managed like a garden, 
 A paradise of hops and high production; 
 
 For after years of travel by a bard in 
 
 Countries of greater heat, but lesser suction, 
 
 A green field is a sight which makes him pardon 
 The absence of that more sublime construction, 
 
 Which mixes up vines, olives, precipices. 
 
 Glaciers, volcanos, oranges, and ices. 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 And when I think upon a pot of beer 
 
 But I won't weep! — and so drive on, postillions! 
 
 As the smart boys spurr'd fast in their career, 
 Juan admired these highways of free millions; 
 
 A country in aU senses the most dear 
 
 To foreigner or native, save some silly ones. 
 
 Who '^'^kick against the pricks" just at this junctm-e. 
 
 And for their pains get only a fresh puncture, 
 
CANTO X. DON JUAN. 139 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 What a delightful thing's a turnpike road! | 
 
 So smooth^ so level, such a mode of shaving 
 
 The earth, as scarce the eagle in the broad 
 Air can accomplish, with his wide wings waving. 
 
 Had such been cut in Phaeton's time, the god 
 Had told his son to satisfy his craving 
 
 With the York mail; — but onward as we roll, 
 
 "Surgit amari aliquid" — the toll! 
 
 Alas! how deeply painful is aU payment! 
 
 Take lives, take wives, take aught except men's purses. 
 As Machiavel shows those in purple raiment. 
 
 Such is the shortest way to general curses. 
 They hate a murderer much less than a claimant 
 
 On that sweet ore which ev^ry body nurses. — 
 Kill a man's family, and he may brook it, 
 But keep your hands out of his breeches' pocket: 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 So said the Florentine: ye monarchs, hearken 
 To your instructor. Juan now was borne, 
 
 Just as the day began to wane and darken. 
 O'er the high hill, which looks with pride or scorn 
 
 Toward the great city. — Ye who have a spark in 
 Your veins of Cockney spirit, smile or mourn 
 
 According as you take things well or ill; — 
 
 Bold Britons, we are now on Shooter's Hill! 
 
140 DON JUAN. CANTO X. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 The sun went down^ the smoke rose up, as from 
 A half-unquench'd volcano, o'er a space 
 
 Which well beseem'd the "Devil's drawing-room," 
 As some have qualified that wondrous place: 
 
 But Juan felt, though not approaching home, 
 As one who, though he were not of the race. 
 
 Revered the soil, of those true sons the mother. 
 
 Who butcher'd half the earth, and bullied t'other. (9) 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 A mighty mass of brick, and smoke, and shipping, 
 
 Dirty and dusky, but as wide as eye 
 Could reach, with here and there a sail just skipping 
 
 In sight, then lost amidst the forestry 
 Of masts; a wilderness of steeples peeping 
 
 On tiptoe through their sea- coal canopy; 
 A huge, dun cupola, hke a foolscap crown 
 On a fool's head — and there is London Town ! 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 But Juan saw not this : each wreath of smoke 
 Appear'd to him but as the magic vapour 
 
 Of some alchymic furnace, from whence broke 
 The wealth of worlds (a wealth of tax and paper) : 
 
 The gloomy clouds, which o'er it as a yoke 
 Are bow'd, and put the sun out like a taper. 
 
 Were nothing but the natural atmosphere. 
 
 Extremely wholesome, though but rarely clear. 
 
CANTO X. DON JUAN. 141 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 He paused — and so will I; as doth a crew 
 Before they give their broadside. By and by. 
 
 My gentle countrymen^ we will renew 
 
 Our old acquaintance; and at least I'll try 
 
 To tell you truths you wiU not take as true. 
 Because they are so; — a male Mrs. Fry, 
 
 With a soft besom will I sweep your haUs, 
 
 And brush a web or two from off the walls. 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 Oh Mrs. Fry! Why go to Newgate.? Why 
 Preach to poor rogues ? And wherefore not begin 
 
 With C — It — n, or with other houses? Try 
 Your hand at harden'd and imperial sin. 
 
 To mend the people's an absurdity, 
 A jargon, a mere philanthropic din. 
 
 Unless you make their betters better:— Fy! 
 
 I thought you had more religion, Mrs. Fry. 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 Teach them the decencies of good threescore; 
 
 Cure them of tours, hussar and highland dresses; 
 TeU them that youth once gone returns no more. 
 
 That hired huzzas redeem no land's distresses; 
 TeU them Sir W — 11 — m C — t — s is a bore, 
 
 Too dull even for the dullest of excesses. 
 The witless FalstafF of a hoary Hal, 
 A fool whose bells have ceased to ring at all. 
 t 
 
142 DON JUAN. canto x. 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 .Tell theirij though it may be perhaps too late 
 On life's worn confine, jaded^ bloated, sated. 
 
 To set up vain pretences of being great, 
 'Tis not so to be good; and be it stated. 
 
 The worthiest kings have ever loved least state; 
 And tell them But you won't, and I have prated 
 
 Just now enough; but by and by I'U prattle 
 
 Like Roland's horn in RoncesvaUes' battle. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO X. 
 
 Note 1, page 117, stanza xiii. 
 Would scarcely join again the " reformadoes." 
 " Reformers," or rather " Reformed." The Baron Brad war- 
 dine, in Waverley, is authority for the word. 
 
 Note 2, page 118, stanza xv. 
 
 The endless soot bestows a tint far deeper. 
 
 Query, suitp — Printer's Devil. 
 
 Note 3, page 119, stanza xviii. 
 The Dee, the Don, Balgounie's brig's black wail. 
 The brig of Don, near the "auld toun" of Aberdeen, with its 
 one arch and its blacli deep salmon stream below, is in my me- 
 mory as yesterday. I stUl remember, though perhaps I may 
 misquote, the awful proverb which made me pause to cross it, 
 and yet lean over it with a childish delight, being an only son, 
 at least by the mother's side. The saying as recollected by me 
 was this, but 1 have never heard or seen it since I was nine years 
 of age : 
 
 " Brig of Balgounie, black 's your wa', 
 Wi' a wife's ae son, and a mear's ae foal, 
 Doun ye shall fa'!" 
 
 Note 4, page 124, stanza xxxiv. 
 
 Oh for a forty-parson power to chant 
 Thy praise. Hypocrisy ! 
 
 A metaphor taken from the "forty-horse power" of a steam- 
 engine. That mad wag, the Reverend S. S., sitting by a brother 
 clergyman at dinner, observed afterwards that his dull neighbour 
 had a " twelve-parson power" of conversation. 
 
144 NOTES TO CANTO X. 
 
 Note 5, page 125, stanza xxxvi. 
 To strip the Saxons of their hydes, like tanners. 
 " Hyde." — I believe a hyde of land to be a legitimate word, 
 and as such subject to the tax of a quibble. 
 
 Note 6, page 129, stanza xlix. 
 Was given to her favourite, and now bore his. 
 The empress went to the Crimea, accompanied by the Em- 
 peror Joseph, in the year — 1 forget which. 
 
 Note 7, page 132, stanza Iviii. 
 Which gave her dukes the graceless name of'Biron." 
 In the Empress Anne's time Biren, her favourite, assumed the 
 name and arms of the "B irons" of France, which families are 
 yet extant with that of England : there are still the daughters of 
 Courland of that name ; one of them I remember seeing in Eng- 
 land in the blessed year of the allies — the Duchess of S.— to whom 
 the English Duchess of S 1 presented me as a namesake. 
 
 Note 8, page 133, stanza Ixii. 
 The greatest number flesh hath ever known. 
 St. Ursula and her eleven thousand virgins were still extant in 
 1816, and may be so yet as much as ever. 
 
 Note 9, page 140, stanza Ixxxi. 
 
 Who btitcher'd half the earth, and bullied f other. 
 
 India; America. 
 
DON JUAN. 
 
 CANTO XI. 
 
 When Bishop Berkeley said "there was no matter/' 
 And proved it — 'twas no matter what he said: 
 
 They say his system 'tis in vain to batter^ 
 Too subtle for the airiest human head; 
 
 And yet who can beheve it? I would shatter 
 Gladly aU matters down to stone or lead. 
 
 Or adamant, to find the world a spirit. 
 
 And wear my head, denying that I wear it. 
 
 II. 
 
 What a subhme discovery 't was to make the 
 
 Universe universal egotism. 
 That all's ideal — all ourselves :'l '11 stake the 
 
 World (be it what you will) that that's no schism. 
 Oh Doubt! — if thoube'st Doubt, for which some take 
 thee. 
 
 But which I doubt extremely — thou sole prism 
 Of the Truth's rays, spoil not my draught of spirit ! 
 Heaven's brandy, though our brain can hardly bear it. 
 
 VOL. ir. L 
 
1 46 DON JUAN. 
 
 III. 
 For ever and anon comes Indigestion, 
 
 (Not the most "dainty Ariel") and perplexes 
 Our soarings with another sort of question : 
 
 And that which after all my spirit vexes. 
 Is, that I find no spot where man can rest eye on, 
 
 Without confusion of the sorts and sexes. 
 Of beings, stars, and this unriddled wonder, 
 The world, which at the worst's a glorious blunder- 
 
 IV. 
 
 If it be chance; or if it be according 
 
 To the old text, stiU better: — lest it should 
 
 Turn out so, we'U say nothing 'gainst the wording, 
 As several people think such hazards rude. 
 
 They're right; our days are too brief for affording 
 Space to dispute what no one ever could 
 
 Decide, and every body one day will 
 
 Know very clearly — or at least he stiU. 
 
 And therefore wiU I leave off metaphysical 
 Discussion, which is neither here nor there : 
 
 If I agree that what is, is; then this I call 
 Being quite perspicuous and extremely fair; 
 
 The truth is^ I've grown lately rather phthisical: 
 I don't know what the reason is — the air 
 
 Perhaps; but as I suffer from the shocks 
 
 Of illness, I grow much more orthodox. 
 
CANTO XI. DON JUAN. 147 
 
 VI. 
 
 The first attack at once proved the Divinity 
 (But that I never doubted^ nor the Devil); 
 
 The next;, the Virgin's mystical virginity; 
 The third, the usual Origin of Evil; 
 
 The fourth at once establish'd the whole Trinity 
 On so uncontrovertible a level. 
 
 That I devoutly wish'd the three were four. 
 
 On purpose to beheve so much the more. 
 
 VII. 
 
 To our theme. — Theman whohas stood on the Acropolis, 
 
 And look'd dowii over Attica; or he 
 Who has sail'd where picturesque Constantinople is. 
 
 Or seen Timbuctoo, or hath taken tea 
 In small-eyed China's crockery- ware metropolis. 
 
 Or sat amidst the bricks of Nineveh, 
 May not think much of London's first appearance — 
 But ask him what he thinks of it a year hence.? 
 
 viii. 
 Don Juan had got out on Shooter's hiU; 
 
 Sunset the time, the place the same declivity 
 Which looks along that vale of good and ill 
 
 Where London streets ferment in full activity; 
 While every thing around was calm and still. 
 
 Except the creak of wheels, which on their pivot he 
 Heard, — and that bee-hke, bubbhng, busy hum \ 
 
 Of cities, that boil over with their scum:^ — J 
 
 L 2 
 
148 DON JUAN. canto xi. 
 
 IX. 
 
 I say, Don Juan, wrapt in contemplation, 
 
 Walk'd on behind his carriage, o'er the summit. 
 
 And lost in wonder of so great a nation. 
 
 Gave way to't, since he could not overcome it. 
 
 "And here," he cried, "is Freedom's chosen station; 
 Here peals the people's voice, nor can entomb it 
 
 Racks, prisons, inquisitions; resurrection 
 
 Awaits it, each new meeting or election. 
 
 X. 
 
 "Here are chaste wives, pure lives; here people pay 
 But what they please; and if that things be dear, 
 
 'Tis only that they love to throw away 
 
 Their cash, to show how much they have a-year. 
 
 Here laws are all inviolate; none lay 
 
 Traps for the traveller; every highway's clear: 
 
 Here — " he was interrupted by a knife. 
 
 With, — "^Damn your eyes ! your money or your Ufe !" — 
 
 XI. 
 
 These freeborn sounds proceeded from four pads 
 In ambush laid, who had perceived him loiter 
 
 Behind his carriage ; and, like handy lads. 
 Had seized the lucky hour to reconnoitre. 
 
 In which the heedless gentleman who gads 
 Upon the road, unless he prove a fighter. 
 
 May find himself within that isle of riches 
 
 Exposed to lose his life as well as breeches. 
 
CANTO XI. DON JUAN. 149 
 
 XII. 
 
 Juan, who did not understand a word 
 
 Of English, save their shibboleth, " God damn !" 
 
 And even that he had so rarely heard. 
 
 He sometimes thought 'twas only their "Salam," 
 
 Or "God be with you!" — and 'tis not absurd 
 To think so: for half Enghsh as I am 
 
 (To my misfortune) never can I say 
 
 I heard them wish "God with you," save that way; — 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Juan yet quickly understood their gesture. 
 And being somewhat choleric and sudden. 
 
 Drew forth a pocket pistol from his vesture. 
 And fired it into one assailant's pudding — 
 
 Who fell, as roUs an ox o'er in his pasture. 
 And roar'd out, as he writhed his native mud in. 
 
 Unto his nearest follower or henchman, 
 
 "Oh Jack ! I'm floor'd by that 'ere bloody Frenchman !" 
 
 XIV. 
 
 On which Jack and his train set off at speed. 
 And Juan's suite, late scatter'd at a distance, 
 
 Came up, all marvelling at such a deed. 
 And offering, as usual, late assistance. 
 
 Juan, who saw the moon's late minion bleed 
 As if his veins would pour out his existence. 
 
 Stood calling out for bandages and hnt. 
 
 And wish'd he had been less hasty with his flint 
 
150 DON JUAN. CANTO XI. 
 
 XV. 
 
 "Perhaps," thought he, "it is the country's wont 
 To welcome foreigners in this way: now 
 
 I recollect some innkeepers who don't 
 Differ, except in robbing with a bow. 
 
 In lieu of a bare blade and brazen front. 
 But what is to be done? I can't allow 
 
 The fellow to lie groaning on the road: 
 
 So take him up; I'll help you with the load." 
 
 XVI. 
 
 But ere they could perform this pious duty, 
 
 The dying man cried, "Hold! I've got my gruel! 
 
 Oh! for a glass of max! We've miss'd our booty; 
 Let me die where I am !" And as the fuel 
 
 Of life shrunk in his heart, and thick and sooty 
 The drops fell from his death- wound, and he drew ill 
 
 His breath, — ^he from his swelling throat untied 
 
 A kerchief, crying, "Give Sal that!" — and died. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 The cravat stain'd with bloody drops fell down 
 Before Don Juan's feet : he could not tell 
 
 Exactly why it was before him thrown. 
 
 Nor what the meaning of the man's farewell. 
 
 Poor Tom was once a kiddy upon town, 
 A thorough varmint, and a real swell. 
 
 Full flash, aU fancy, until fairly diddled. 
 
 His pockets first and then his body riddled. 
 
CANTO XI, DON JUAN. 151 
 
 XVUI. 
 
 Don Juan^ having done the best he could 
 
 In all the circumstances of the case^ 
 As soon as " Crowner's quest" allow'd, pursued 
 
 His travels to the capital apace; — 
 Esteeming it a little hard he should 
 
 In tvpelve hours' time^ and very little space^ 
 Have been obliged to slay a freeborn native 
 In self-defence: this made him meditative. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 He from the vrorld had cut off a great man^ 
 Who in his time had made heroic bustle. 
 
 Who in a row like Tom could lead the van^ 
 Booze in the ken^ or at the spellken hustle.? 
 
 Who queer a flat.'' WTio (spite of Bow-street's ban) 
 On the high toby-spice so flash the muzzle.'' 
 
 Who on a lark^ with black-eyed Sal (his blowing)^ 
 
 So prime, so swell, so nutty, and so knowing.'' O 
 
 XX. 
 
 But Tom's no more — and so no more of Tom. 
 
 Heroes must die; and by God's blessing 'tis 
 Not long before the most of them go home. 
 
 Hail ! Thamis, hail ! Upon thy verge it is 
 That Juan's chariot, rolling like a drum 
 
 In thunder, holds the way it can't well miss. 
 Through Kennington and all the other "tons," 
 Which make us wish ourselves in tovra at once; — 
 
152 DON JUAN. CANTO XI. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Through Groves, so call'd as being void of trees, 
 (Like lucus from no hght) ; through prospects named 
 
 Mount Pleasant, as containing nought to please. 
 Nor much to climb; through Uttle boxes framed 
 
 Of bricks, to let the dust in at your ease, 
 
 With "To be let," upon their doors proclaim'd; 
 
 Through "Rovfs" most modestly call'd '"^ Paradise," 
 
 Which Eve might quit without much sacrifice; — 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Through coaches, drays, choked turnpikes, and a whirl 
 Of wheels, and roar of voices, and confusion ; 
 
 Here taverns wooing to a pint of "^purl," 
 There mails fast flying ofFUke a delusion; 
 
 There barbers' blocks with periwigs in curl 
 In windows ; here the lamplighter's infusion 
 
 Slowly distill'd into the glimmering glass 
 
 (For in those days we had not got to gas — ); 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Through this, and much, and more, is the approach 
 
 Of travellers to mighty Babylon : 
 Whether they come by horse, or chaise, or coach. 
 
 With slight exceptions, all the ways seem one. 
 I could say more, but do not choose to encroach 
 
 Upon the guide-book's privilege. The sun 
 Had set some time, and night was on the ridge 
 Of twilight, as the party cross'd the bridge. 
 
CANTO XI. DON JUAN. 153 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 That's rather finej the gentle sound of Thamis — 
 Who vindicates a moment too his stream — 
 
 Though hardly heard through multifarious '^'^damme's. ' 
 The lamps of Westminster's more regular gleam^ 
 
 The breadth of pavement, and yon shrine where fame is 
 A spectral resident — whose pallid beam 
 
 In shape of moonshine hovers o'er the pile — 
 
 Make this a sacred part of Albion's isle. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 The Druids' groves are gone — so much the better: 
 Stone-Henge is not— but what the devil is it.'' — 
 
 But Bedlam still exists with its sage fetter. 
 That madmen may not bite you on a visit; 
 
 The Bench too seats or suits full many a debtor; 
 The Mansion-house too (though some people quiz it) 
 
 To me appears a stiff yet grand erection; 
 
 But then the Abbey's worth the whole collection. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 The line of lights too up to Charing Cross, 
 PaU Mall, and so forth, have a coruscation 
 
 Like gold as in comparison to dross, 
 
 Match'd with the continent's illumination. 
 
 Whose cities Night by no means deigns to gloss. 
 The French were not yet a lamp-lighting nation. 
 
 And when they grew so — on their new-found lantern, 
 
 Instead of wicks, they made a wicked man turn. 
 
154 DON JUAN. canto xi. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 A row of gentlemen along the streets 
 
 Suspended, may illuminate mankind. 
 As also bonfires made of country seats; 
 
 But the old way is best for the purblind : 
 The other looks like phosphorus on sheets, 
 
 A sort of ignis fatuus to the mind, 
 Which, though 'tis certain to perplex and frighten. 
 Must burn more mildly ere it can enlighten. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 But London 's so well lit, that if Diogenes 
 Could recommence to hunt his honest man, 
 
 And found him not amidst the various progenies 
 Of this enormous city's spreading spawn, 
 
 'Twere not for want of lamps to aid his dodging his 
 Yet undiscover'd treasure. What / can, 
 
 I've done to find the same throughout life's journey, 
 
 But see the world is only one attorney. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Oyer the stones still rattling, up PaU Mall, 
 
 Through crowds and carriages, but waxing thinner 
 
 As thunder'd knockers broke the long seal'd speU 
 Of doors 'gainst duns, and to an early dinner 
 
 Admitted a small party as night fell,^ — 
 Don Juan, our young diplomatic sinner. 
 
 Pursued his path, and drove past some hotels, 
 
 St. James's Palace and St. James's "Hells." (2) 
 
CANTO xr. DON JUAN. 155 
 
 XXX. 
 
 They reach'd the hotel: forth stream'd from the front 
 A tide of well-clad waiters^ and around []^door 
 
 The mob stood, and as usual several score 
 Of those pedestrian Paphians who abound 
 
 In decent London when the daylight's o'er; 
 Commodious but immoral^ they are found 
 
 Usefulj like Malthus_, in promoting marriage. — 
 
 But Juan now is stepping from his carriage 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Into one of the sweetest of hotels. 
 
 Especially for foreigners — and mostly 
 For those whom favour or whom fortune swells. 
 
 And cannot find a bill's small items costly. 
 There many an envoy either dwelt or dwells 
 
 (The den of many a diplomatic lost lie). 
 Until to some conspicuous square they pass. 
 And blazon o'er the door their names in brass. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Juan, whose was a delicate commission. 
 Private, though publicly important, bore 
 
 No title to point out with due precision 
 The exact affair on which he was sent o'er. 
 
 'Twas m£rely known, that on a secret mission 
 A foreigner of rank had graced our shore. 
 
 Young, handsome, and accomplish' d, who was said 
 
 ( In whispers) to have turn'd his sovereign's head. 
 
156 DON JUAN. CANTO XI. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Some rumour also of some strange adventures 
 Had gone before him, and his wars and loves; 
 
 And as romantic heads are pretty painters. 
 And, above all, an Englishwoman's roves 
 
 Into the excursive, breaking the indentures 
 Of sober reason, wheresoe'er it moves. 
 
 He found himself extremely in the fashion, 
 
 Which serves our thinking people for a passion. 
 
 I don't mean that they are passionless, but quite 
 The contrary; but then 'tis in the head; 
 
 Yet as the consequences are as bright 
 As if they acted with the heart instead, 
 
 What after all can signify the site 
 Of ladies' lucubrations? So they lead 
 
 In safety to the place for which you start. 
 
 What matters if the road be head or heart? 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Juan presented in the proper place. 
 
 To proper placemen, every Russ credential; 
 
 And was received with all the due grimace. 
 By those who govern in the mood potential. 
 
 Who, seeing a handsome stripling with smooth face. 
 Thought (what in state affairs is most essential) 
 
 That they as easily might do the youngster. 
 
 As hawks may pounce upon a woodland songster. 
 
CANTO XI. DON JUAN. 157 
 
 XXXVI. 
 7'hey err'd^ as aged men will do; but by 
 
 And by we'll talk of that j and if we don't, 
 'Twill be because our notion is not high 
 
 Of politicians and their double front. 
 Who live by lies, yet dare not boldly lie: — 
 
 Now what I love in women is, they won't 
 Or can't do otherwise than lie, but do it 
 So well, the very truth seems falsehood to it. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 And, after all, what is a lie? 'Tis but 
 The truth in masquerade; and I defy 
 
 Historians, heroes, lawyers, priests, to put 
 A fact without some leaven of a lie. 
 
 The very shadow of true Truth would shut 
 Up annals, revelations, poesy. 
 
 And prophecy — except it should be dated 
 
 Some years before the incidents related. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Praised be all Hars and all lies ! Who now 
 Can tax my mild Muse with misanthropy? 
 
 She rings the world's '^'Te Deum," and her brow 
 Blushes for those who v/ill not: — but to sigh 
 
 Is idle; let us like most others bow. 
 Kiss hands, feet, any part of majesty. 
 
 After the good example of "Green Erin," 
 
 Whose shamrock now seems rather worse for wearing. 
 
158 DON JUAN. canto xi 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 Don Juan was presented, and his dress 
 And mien excited general admiration — 
 
 I don't know which was more admired or less: 
 One monstrous diamond drew much ohservation. 
 
 Which Catherine in a moment of '^^ivresse" 
 (In love or brandy's fervent fermentation). 
 
 Bestow'd upon him, as the pubhc learn'd; 
 
 And, to say truth, it had been fairly earn'd. 
 
 XL. 
 
 Besides the ministers and underlings. 
 Who must be courteous to the accredited 
 
 Diplomatists of rather wavering kings. 
 Until their royal riddle's fully read. 
 
 The very clerks, — those somewhat dirty springs 
 Of office, or the house of office, fed 
 
 By foul corruption into streams, — even they 
 
 ^Vere hardly rude enough to earn their pay: 
 
 XLI. 
 
 And insolence no doubt is what they are 
 
 Employ'd for, since it is their daily labour. 
 In the dear offices of peace or war ; Qbour, 
 
 And should you doubt, pray ask of your next neigh- 
 When for a passport, or some other bar 
 
 To freedom, he applied (a grief and a bore). 
 If he found not this spawn of taxborn riches. 
 Like lap-dogs, the least civil sons of b s. 
 
CANTO XI. DON JUAN. 159 
 
 XLII. 
 
 But Juan was received with much "^empressement:" — 
 These phrases of refinement I must borrow 
 
 From ournext neighbours' Ian d^ where, likeachessman. 
 There is a move set down for joy or sorrow 
 
 Not only in mere talking, but the press. Man 
 In islands is, it seems, downright and thorough. 
 
 More than on continents — as if the sea 
 
 (See Billingsgate) made even the tongue more free. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 And yet the British "Damme'"s rather Attic: 
 Your continental oaths are but incontinent. 
 
 And turn on things which no aristocratic [^anent*^) 
 Spirit would name, and therefore even I won't 
 
 This subject quote; as it would be schismatic 
 In politesse, and have a sound affronting in't: — 
 
 But "Damme" 's quite ethereal, though too daring — 
 
 Platonic blasphemy, the soul of swearing. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 For downright rudeness, ye may stay at home; 
 
 For true or false politeness (and scarce that 
 JVoiv) you may cross the blue deep and white foam — 
 
 The first the emblem (rarely though) of what 
 You leave behind, the next of much you come ' 
 
 To meet. However, 'tis no time to chat 
 On general topics : poems must confine 
 Themselves to unity, like this of mine. 
 
160 DON JUAN. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 In the great worlds — which being interpreted 
 Meaneth the west or worst end of a city. 
 
 And about twice two thousand people bred 
 By no means to be very wise or witty. 
 
 But to sit up while others lie in bed. 
 
 And look down on the universe with pity, — 
 
 Juan, as an inveterate patrician. 
 
 Was well received by persons of condition. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 He was a bachelor, which is a matter 
 Of import both to virgin and to bride, 
 
 The former's hymeneal hopes to flatter; 
 
 And (should she not hold fast by love or pride) 
 
 'Tis also of some moment to the latter: 
 A rib's a thorn in a wed gallant's side. 
 
 Requires decorum, and is apt to double 
 
 The horrid sin — and what's stUl worse, the trouble. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 But Juan was a bachelor — of arts. 
 
 And parts, and hearts : he danced and sung, and had 
 An air as sentimental as Mozart's 
 
 Softest of melodies ; and could be sad 
 Or cheerful, without any " flaws or starts," 
 
 Just at the proper time; and though a lad. 
 Had seen the world — which is a curious sight, 
 And very much unlike what people write. 
 
CANTO XI, DON JUAN. 161 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 Fair virgins blush'd upon him; wedded dames 
 
 Bloom'd also in less transitory hues; 
 For both commodities dwell by the Thames, 
 
 The painting and the painted; youth, ceruse, 
 Against his heart preferr'd their usual claims. 
 
 Such as no gentleman can quite refuse: 
 Daughters admired his dress, and pious mothers \ 
 Inquired his income, and if he had brothers. I 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 The milliners who furnish '^'^ drapery Misses" (*' 
 Throughout the season, upon speculation 
 
 Of payment ere the honey-moon's last kisses 
 Have waned into a crescent's coruscation. 
 
 Thought such an opportunity as this is. 
 Of a rich foreigner's initiation. 
 
 Not to be overlook' d — and gave such credit. 
 
 That future bridegrooms swore, and sigh'd, and paid it. 
 
 L. 
 
 The Blues, that tender tribe, who sigh o'er sonnets. 
 And with the pages of the last Review 
 
 Line the interior of their heads or bonnets. 
 Advanced in all their azure's highest hue: 
 
 They talk'd bad French or Spanish, and upon its 
 Late authors ask'd him for a hint or two; 
 
 And which was softest, Russian or Castilian? 
 
 And whether in his travels he saw Ilion? 
 
162 DON JUAN. CANTO XI. 
 
 LI. 
 
 Juan, who was a little superficial. 
 
 And not in literature a great Drawcansir, 
 
 Examined by this learned and especial 
 
 Jury of matrons, scarce knew what to answer: 
 
 His duties warlike, loving or official. 
 His steady application as a dancer. 
 
 Had kept him from the brink of Hippocrene, 
 
 Which now he found was blue instead of green. 
 
 However, he repUed at hazard, with 
 A modest confidence and calm assurance, 
 
 Which lent his learned lucubrations pith. 
 And pass'd for arguments of good endurance. 
 
 That prodigy. Miss Araminta Smith, 
 (Who at sixteen translated ^"^ Hercules Furens" 
 
 Into as furious Enghsh) with her best look. 
 
 Set down his sayings in her common-place book. 
 
 nil. 
 Juan knew several languages — as weU 
 
 He might — and brought them up vdth skiU, in time 
 To save his fame with each accomphsh'd beUe, 
 
 Who still regretted that he did not rhyme. 
 There wanted bat this requisite to swell 
 
 His qualities (with them) into sublime: 
 Lady Fitz- Frisky, and Miss Maevia Mannish, 
 Both long'd extremely to be sung in Spanish. 
 
CANTO XI. DON JUAN. 16c 
 
 LIV. 
 
 However^ he did pretty well^ and was 
 
 Admitted as an aspirant to all 
 The coteries^ and, as in Banquo's glass. 
 
 At great assemblies or in parties small. 
 He saw ten thousand living authors pass. 
 
 That being about their average numeral; 
 Also the eighty "greatest living poets," 
 As every paltry magazine can show it's. 
 
 LV. 
 
 In twice five years the '^'^ greatest living poet," 
 Like to the champion in the fisty ring. 
 
 Is call'd on to support his claim, or show it. 
 Although 'tis an imaginary thing. 
 
 Even I — albeit I'm sure I did not know it. 
 Nor sought of foolscap subjects to be king, — 
 
 Was reckon' d, a considerable time. 
 
 The grand Napoleon of the realms of rhyme. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 But Juan was my Moscow, and Faliero 
 My Leipsic, and my Mont Saint Jean seems Cain: 
 
 " La Belle Alliance" of dunces down at zero. 
 Now that the Lion's fall'n, may rise again: 
 
 But I will fall at least as fell my hero; 
 Nor reign at all, or as a monarch reign j 
 
 Or to some lonely isle of jailors go. 
 
 With turncoat Southey for my turnkey Lowe. 
 
 M 2 
 
1 64 DON JUAN. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 Sir Walter reigned before me; Moore and Campbell 
 Before and after ; but now grown more holy, 
 
 The Muses upon Sion's hill musf ramble 
 With poets almost clergymen, or whoUy; 
 
 LIX. 
 
 Then there's my gentle Euphues; who, they say, 
 
 Sets up for being a sort of moral me; 
 He'll find it rather difficult some day 
 
 To turn out both, or either, it may be. 
 Some persons think that Coleridge hath the sway; 
 
 And Wordsworth has supporters, two or three; 
 And that deep-mouth'd Boeotian "Savage Landor" 
 
 Has taken for a swan rogue Southey's gander. 
 
CANTO XI. DON JUAN. 3 65 
 
 LX. 
 
 John Keats^ who was kill'd off by one critique. 
 Just as he really promised something great. 
 
 If not intelUgible, without Greek 
 Contrived to talk about the gods of late. 
 
 Much as they might have been supposed to speak. 
 Poor fellow! His was an untoward fate; 
 
 'Tis strange the mind, that very fiery particle, (s) 
 
 Should let itself be snuff'd out by an article. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 The list grows long of live and dead pretenders 
 To that which none will gain — or none will know 
 
 The conqueror at least; who, ere Time renders 
 His last award, will have the long grass grow 
 
 Above his burnt-out brain, and sapless cinders. 
 If I might augur, I should rate but low 
 
 Their chances; — they're too numerous, like the thirty 
 
 Mock tyrants, when Rome's annals wax'd but dirty. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 This is the litejary loiver empire. 
 
 Where the praetorian bands take up the matter; — 
 A "dreadful trade," like his who "gathers samphire," 
 
 The insolent soldiery to soothe and flatter. 
 With the same feelings as you 'd coax a vampire. 
 
 Now, were I once at home, and in good satire, 
 I'd try conclusions with those Janizaries, 
 And show them what an intellectual war is. 
 
] 66 DON JUAN. CANTO xi 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 I think I know a trick or two, would turn 
 
 Their flanks; — but it is hardly worth my while 
 With such small gear to give myself concern : 
 
 Indeed I 've not the necessary bile; 
 My natural temper 's really aught but stern. 
 And even my Muse's worst reproof's a smile; 
 And then she drops a brief and modern curtsy. 
 And glides away, assured she never hurts ye. 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 My Juan, whom I left in deadly peril 
 Amongst live poets and blue ladies, past 
 
 With some small profit through that field so sterile. 
 Being tired in time, and neither least nor last 
 
 Left it before he had been treated very iU; 
 And henceforth found himself more gaily class'd 
 
 Amongst the higher spirits of the day. 
 
 The sun's true son, no vapour, but a ray. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 His morns he pass'd in business — which dissected, 
 Was like all business, a laborious nothing. 
 
 That leads to lassitude, the most infected 
 And Centaur Nessus garb of mortal cloihing, 
 
 And on our sofas makes us he dejected. 
 And talk in tender horrors of our loathing 
 
 All kinds of toil, save for our country's good — 
 
 Which grows no better, though 'tis time it should. 
 
CANTO XI. DON JUAN. 167 
 
 LXVI, 
 
 His afternoons he pass'd in visits^ luncheons. 
 Lounging, and boxing; and the twilight hour 
 
 In riding round those vegetable puncheons [^flower 
 CaU'd '^'^ Parks," where there is neither fruit nor 
 
 Enough to gratify a bee's slight munchings; 
 But after all it is the only "bower," 
 
 (In Moore's phrase) where the fashionable fair 
 
 Can form a slight acquaintance with fresh air. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 Then dress, then dinner, then awakes the world! 
 
 Then glare the lamps, then whirl the wheels, then roar 
 Through street and square fast flashing chariots hurl'd 
 
 Like harness'd meteors; then. along the floor 
 Chalk mimics painting; then festoons are twirl'd; 
 
 Then roll the brazen thunders of the door. 
 Which opens to the thousand happy few 
 An earthly Paradise of "Or Molu." 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 There stands the noble hostess, nor shall sink 
 With the three- thousandth curtsy; there the waltz. 
 
 The only dance which teaches girls to think. 
 Makes one in love even with its very faults. 
 
 Saloon, room, hall, o'erflow beyond their brink. 
 And long the latest of arrivals halts, 
 
 'Midst royal dukes and dames condemn'd to climb, I 
 
 And gain an inch of staircase at a time. ) 
 
168 DON JUAN. CANTO XI. 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 Thrice happy he who^ after a survey 
 Of the good company^ can win a corner, 
 
 A door that 's in, or boudoir out of the way. 
 
 Where he may fix himself like small " Jack Horner/' 
 
 And let the Babel round run as it may. 
 And look on as a mourner, or a scorner. 
 
 Or an approver, or a mere spectator, 
 
 Yavming a little as the night grows later. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 But this won't do, save by and by; and Ke 
 Who, like Don Juan, takes an active share. 
 
 Must steer with care through all that glittering sea 
 Of gems and plumes and pearls and silks, to where 
 
 He deems it is his proper place to be; 
 Dissolving in the waltz to some soft air. 
 
 Or proudlier prancing with mercurial skiU 
 
 Where Science marshals forth her own quadrille. 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 Or, if he dance not, but hath higher views 
 Upon an heiress or his neighbour's bride, 
 
 Let him take care that that which he pursues 
 Is not at once too palpably descried. 
 
 Full many an eager gentleman oft rues 
 
 His haste: impatience is a blundering guide 
 
 Amongst a people famous for reflection. 
 
 Who like to play the fool with circumspection. 
 
CANTO XI. DON JUAN. 169 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 But, if you can contrive, get next at supper; 
 
 Or, if forestalled, get opposite and ogle: — 
 Oh ye ambrosial moments ! always upper 
 
 In mind, a sort of sentimental bogle. 
 Which sits for ever upon memory's crupper. 
 
 The ghost of vanish'd pleasures once in vogue ! Ill 
 Can tender souls relate the rise and faU 
 Of hopes and fears which shake a single ball. 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 But these precautionary hints can touch 
 Only the common run, who must pursue. 
 
 And watch, and ward; whose plans a word too much 
 Or little overturns; and not the few 
 
 Or many (for the number's sometimes such) 
 Whom a good mien, especially if new. 
 
 Or fame, or name, for wit, war, sense, or nonsense. 
 
 Permits whate'er they please, or did not long since. I 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 Our hero, as a hero, young and handsome. 
 Noble, rich, celebrated, and a stranger. 
 
 Like other slaves of course must pay his ransom 
 Before he can escape from so much danger 
 
 As will environ a conspicuous man. Some 
 Talk about poetry, and "rack and manger," 
 
 And ugliness, disease, as toil and trouble; — 
 
 I wish they knew the life of a young noble. 
 
170 DON JUAN. CANTO XI. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 They are young, but know not youth — it is anticipated; 
 
 Handsome but wasted, rich without a sou; 
 Their vigour in a thousand arms is dissipated; 
 
 Their cash comesyrom, their wealth goes to a Jew; 
 Both senates see their nightly votes participated 
 
 Between the tyrant's and the tribunes' crew; 
 And having voted, 4,ined, drank, gamed, and whored. 
 The family vault receives another lord. 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 " Where is the world," cries Young, " a.t eighty ? Where 
 The world in which a man was born?" Alas! 
 
 Where is the world of eight years past? 'Twas there — 
 1 look for it — 'tis gone, a globe of glass ! 
 
 Crack'd, shiver'd, vanish' d, scarcely gazed on, ere 
 A silent change dissolves the glittering mass. 
 
 Statesmen, chiefs, orators, queens, patriots, kings. 
 
 And dandies, all are gone on the wind's wings. 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 Where is Napoleon the Grand? God knows: 
 Where little Castlereagh? The devil can teU: 
 
 Where Grattan, Curran, Sheridan, all those 
 Who bound the bar or senate in their spell? 
 
 Where is the unhappy Queen, with all her woes? 
 And where the Daughter, whom the Isles loved well? 
 
 Wliere are those martyr'd saints the Five per Cents? 
 
 And where — oh where the devil are the rents? 
 
CANTO XI. DON JUAN. 171 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 Where's Brummel.? Dish'd. Where's Long Pole 
 Wellesley.? Diddled. [the Third.? 
 
 Where's Whitbread? Romilly? Where's George 
 Where is his will.? (That's not so soon unriddled) 
 
 And where is "Fum" the Fourth, our "royal bird.?" 
 Gone down it seems to Scotland to be fiddled 
 
 Unto by Sawney's violin, we have heard: 
 "Cawme, cawthee" — for six months hath been hatching 
 This scene of royal itch and loyal scratching. 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 Where is Lord This.? And where my Lady That.? 
 
 The Honourable Mistresses and Misses.? 
 Some laid aside like an old Opera hat. 
 
 Married, unmarried, and remarried : (this is 
 An evolu-tion oft performed of late). 
 
 Where are the Dublin shouts — and London hisses.? 
 Where are the Grenvilles.? Turn'd as usual. Where 
 My friends the Whigs.? Exactly where they were. 
 
 Where are the Lady Carolines and Franceses? 
 
 Divorced or doing thereanent. Ye annals 
 So brilliant, where the list of routs and dances is, — 
 
 Thou Morning Post, sole record of the pannels 
 Broken in carriages, and all the phantasies 
 
 Of fashion, — say what streams no w fill those chann els .? 
 Some die, some fly, some languish on the continent. 
 Because the times have hardly left them one tenant. 
 
172 BON JUAN. CANTO xi. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 Some who once set their caps at cautious dukes. 
 Have taken up at length with younger brothers : 
 
 Some heiresses have bit at sharpers' hooks : [^mothers ; 
 Some maids have been made wives, some merely 
 
 Others have lost their fresh and fairy looks: 
 In short, the list of alterations bothers. 
 
 There's little strange in this, but something strange is 
 
 The unusual quickness of these common changes. 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 Talk not of seventy years as age; in seven 
 
 I have seen more changes, down from monarchs to 
 
 The humblest individual under heaven. 
 
 Than might suffice a moderate century through. 
 
 I knew that nought was lasting, but now even 
 
 Change grows too changeable, without being new : 
 
 Nought's permanent among the human race. 
 
 Except the Whigs not getting into place. 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 I have seen Napoleon, who seem'd quite a Jupiter, 
 Shrink to a Saturn. I have seen a duke 
 
 (No matter which) turn politician stupider. 
 If that can well be, than his wooden look. 
 
 But it is time that I should hoist my '^'^blue Peter" 
 And sail for a new theme: — I have seen-^and shook 
 
 To see it — the king hiss'd, and then carest; 
 
 But don't pretend to settle which was best. 
 
CANTO XI. DON JUAN. 173 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 I have seen the landholders without a rap — 
 I have seen Joanna Southcote — I have seen 
 
 The House of Commons turn'd to a tax-trap — 
 I have seen that sad affair of the late queen — 
 
 I have seen crowns worn instead of a fool's cap — 
 1 have seen a congress doing all that's mean — 
 
 I have seen some nations like o'erloaded asses 
 
 Kick off their burthens — meaning the high classes- 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 I have seen small poets, and great prosers, and 
 Interminable— Tiof eternal — speakers — 
 
 I have seen the funds at war with house and land — 
 I have seen the country gentlemen turn squeakers — 
 
 I have seen the people ridden o'er like sand 
 By slaves on horseback— I have seen malt liquors 
 
 Exchanged for "thin potations" by John Bull — . 
 
 I have seen John half detect himself a fool. — 1 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 But "Carpe diem/' Juan, "Carpe, carpe!" 
 
 To-morrow sees another race as gay 
 And transient, and devour'd by the same harpy. 
 
 "Life's a poor player/' — then "play out the play. 
 Ye villains!" and above all keep a sharp eye 
 
 Much less on what you do than what you say: 
 Be hypocritical, be cautious, be 
 Not what you seem, but always what you see. 
 
174 DON JUAN. CANTO xi. 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 But how shall I relate in other cantos 
 
 Of what befell our hero in the land^ 
 Which 'tis the common cry and lie to vaunt as 
 
 A moral country ? But I hold my hand — 
 For I disdain to write an Atalantis; 
 
 But 'tis as well at once to understand 
 You are not a moral people, and you know it 
 Without the aid of too sincere a poet. 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 What Juan saw and underwent shall be 
 My topic, with of course the due restriction 
 
 Which is required by proper courtesy; 
 And recoUect the work is only fiction. 
 
 And that I sing of neither mine nor me. 
 
 Though every scribe, in some shght turn of diction. 
 
 Will hint allusions never meant. Ne'er doubt 
 
 This — when I speak, I don't hint, but speak out. 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 Whether he married with the third or fourth 
 
 Offspring of some sage husband-hunting countess. 
 
 Or whether with some virgin of more worth 
 (I mean in Fortune's matrimonial bounties) 
 
 He took to regularly peopling Earth, 
 
 Of which your lawful awful wedlock fount is, — 
 
 Or whether he was taken in for damages. 
 
 For being too excursive in his homages, — 
 t 
 
CANTO XI. DON JUAN. 175 
 
 xc. 
 Is yet within the unread events of time. 
 
 Thus far, go forth, thou lay, which I will back 
 Against the same given quantity of rhyme. 
 
 For being as much the subject of attack 
 As ever yet was any work sublime. 
 
 By those who love to say that white is black. 
 So much the better !— I may stand alone. 
 But would not change my free thoughts for a throne. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO XL 
 
 Note 1, page 151, stanza xix. 
 Booze in the ken, or at the spellken hustle, t^o. 
 The advance of science and of language has rendered it un- 
 necessary to translate the above good and true English, spoken 
 in its original purity by the select mobility and their patrons. 
 The following is a stanza of a song which was very popular, at 
 least in my early days: 
 
 " On the high toby-spice flash the muzzle, 
 In spite of each gallows old scout ; 
 If you at the spellken can't hustle. 
 You "11 be hobbled in making a Clout. 
 
 " Then your Blowing will wax gallows haughty. 
 When she hears of your scaly mistake. 
 She'll surely turn snitch for the forty — 
 That her Jack may be regular weight." 
 
 If there be any gemman so ignorant as to require a traduction, 
 I refer him to my old friend and corporeal pastor and master, 
 John Jackson, Esq., Professor of Pugilism; who I trust still re- 
 tains the strength and symmetry of his model of a form, together 
 with his good humour and athletic as well as mental accom- 
 plishments. 
 
 Note 2; page 154, stanza xxix. 
 St. James's Palace and St. James's " Hells." 
 " Hells," gaming-houses. What their number may now be in 
 this life, I know not. Before I was of age I knew them pretty 
 accurately, both "gold" and "silver." I was once nearly called 
 out by an acquaintance, because when he asked me where I 
 thought that his soul would be found hereafter, I answered, 
 "In Silver Hell." 
 
 VOL. II. N 
 
178 NOTES TO CANTO XI. 
 
 Note 3, page 159, stanza xliii. 
 
 therefore even I won't anent 
 
 This subject quote. 
 
 "Anent" was a Scotch phrase meaning »' concernhig" — 
 "with regard to:" it has been made English by the Scotch 
 novels; and, as the Frenchman said, "If it be not, oug-lit to be 
 English." 
 
 Note 4, page IGl, stanza xlix, 
 Tlie milliners who furnish " drapery Misses." 
 "Drapery Misses" — This term is probably any thing now but 
 a mystery. It was however almost so to me when I first returned 
 from the East in 1811 — 1812. It means a pretty, a high-born, a 
 fashionable young female, well instructed by her friends, and 
 furnished by her milliner with a wardrobe upon credit, to be 
 repaid, when married, by the husband. The riddle was first read 
 to me by a young and pretty heiress, on my praising the " drapery " 
 of the " untochered" but "pretty virginities" (like Mrs. Anne 
 Page) of the then day, which has now been some years yester- 
 day: she assured me that the thing was common in London; 
 and as her own thousands and blooming looks, and rich simplicity 
 of array, put any suspicion in her own case out of the question, 
 I confess I gave some credit to the allegation. If necessary, 
 authorities might be cited, in which case I could quote both 
 " drapery" and the wearers. Let us hope, however, that it is 
 now obsolete. 
 
 Note 5, page 165, stanza Ix. 
 
 'Tis strange the mind, that very fiery particle. 
 
 " Divine particulam aurse." 
 
DON JUAN. 
 
 CANTO XIL 
 
 Of all the barbarous middle ages^ that ^ 
 
 Which is most barbarous is the middle age 
 
 Of man; it is — I really scarce know what; 
 But when we hover between fool and sage, 
 
 And don't know justly what we would be at — 
 A period something like a printed page^ 
 
 Black letter upon foolscap, while our hair 
 
 Grows grizzled, and we are not what we were; — 
 
 II. 
 Too old for youth, — too young, at thirty-five. 
 
 To herd with boys, or hoard with good threescore, 
 I wonder people should be left alive; 
 
 But since they are, that epoch is a bore: 
 Love lingers still, although 'twere late to wive; 
 
 And as for other love, the illusion's o'er; 
 And money, that most pure imagination. 
 Gleams only through the dawn of its creation. 
 
 N 2 
 
180 DON JUAN. CANTO XII. 
 
 III. 
 O Gold! Why call we misers miserable.^ 
 
 Theirs is the pleasure that can never pall; 
 Theirs is the best bower-anchor, the chain cable 
 
 "VVTiich holds fast other pleasures great and small. 
 Ye who but see the saving man at table. 
 
 And scorn his temperate board, as none at all. 
 And wonder how the wealthy can be sparing. 
 Know not what visions spring from each cheese-paring. 
 
 Love or lust makes man sick, and wine much sicker; 
 
 Ambition rends, and gaming gains a loss; 
 But making money, slowly first, then quicker. 
 
 And adding still a little through each cross 
 (Which will come over things), beats love or liquor. 
 
 The gamester's counter, or the statesman's dross. 
 O Gold ! I still prefer thee unto paper, 
 ^VTiich makes bank credit like a bark of vapour. 
 
 Who hold the balance of the v/orld.? Wlio reign 
 O'er congress, whether royalist or liberal? 
 
 ^Vho rouse the shirtless patriots of Spain } []all.) 
 
 (That make old Europe's journals squeak and gibber 
 
 "Who keep the world, both old and new, in pain 
 Or pleasure.'' "WTio make politics run gUbber all.'' 
 
 The shade of Buonaparte's noble daring.-* — 
 
 Jew Rothschild, and his fellow- christian. Baring. 
 
CANTO XII. DON JUAN. 181 
 
 Those^ and the truly liberal Lafitte, 
 Are the true lords of Europe. Every loan 
 
 Is not a merely speculative hit^ 
 
 But seats a nation or upsets a throne. 
 
 Republics also get involved a bit; 
 
 Columbia's stock hath holders not unknown 
 
 On 'Change; and even thy silver soil, Peru, 
 
 Must get itself discounted by a Jew. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Why call the miser miserable.? as 
 
 I said before : the frugal life is his, 
 Which in a saint or cynic ever was 
 
 The theme of praise: a hermit would not miss 
 Canonization for the self-same cause. 
 
 And wherefore blame' gaunt wealth's austerities.'' 
 Because, you'U say, nought caUs for such a trial; — 
 Then there's more merit in his self-denial. 
 
 He is your only poet; — passion, pure 
 And sparkhng on from heap to heap, displays. 
 
 Possess' d, the ore, of which mere hopes allure 
 Nations athwart the deep : the golden rays 
 
 Flash up in ingots from the mine obscure; 
 On him the diamond pours its brilliant blaze; 
 
 While the mild emerald's beam shades down the dies 
 
 Of other stones, to soothe the miser's eyes. 
 
]82 DON JUAN. CANTO xii. 
 
 IX. 
 
 The lands on either side are his: the ship 
 From Ceylon^ Inde^ or far Cathay^ unloads 
 
 For him the fragrant produce of each trip; 
 Beneath his cars of Ceres groan the roads. 
 
 And the vine blushes Uke Aurora's lip; 
 His very cellars might be kings' abodes; 
 
 While he, despising every sensual call. 
 
 Commands — the intellectual lord of all. 
 
 X. 
 
 Perhaps he hath great projects in his mind. 
 To build a college, or to found a race, 
 
 A hospital, a church, — and leave behind 
 Some dome surmounted by his meagre face: 
 
 Perhaps he fain would liberate mankind 
 
 Even with the very ore which makes them base; 
 
 Perhaps he would be wealthiest of his nation. 
 
 Or revel in the joys of calculation. 
 
 XI. 
 
 But whether all, or each, or none of these 
 May be the hoarder's principle of action. 
 
 The fool will call such mania a disease: — 
 
 What is his own? Go — look at each transaction. 
 
 Wars, revels, loves — do these bring men more ease 
 Than the mere plodding through each "vulgar frac- 
 
 Or do they benefit mankind.? Lean miser! Qion.''" 
 
 Let spendthrifts' heirs inquire of yours — who's wiser.? 
 
CANTO XII. DON JUAN. 183 
 
 XII. 
 
 How beauteous are rouleaus! how charming chests 
 Containing ingots^ bags of dollars, coins 
 
 (Not of old victors, all whose heads and crests 
 Weigh not the thin ore where their visage shines, 
 
 But) of fine unclipt gold, where dully rests 
 
 Some likeness, which the glittering cirque confines, 
 
 Of modern, reigning, sterling, stupid stamp: — 
 
 Yes ! ready money is Aladdin's lamp. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 "Love rules the camp, the court, thegrove," — "for Love 
 Is Heaven, and Heaven is Love :" — so sings the bard ; 
 
 Which it were rather difficult to prove, I 
 
 (A thing with poetry in general hard). I 
 
 Perhaps there may be something in "^the grove," 
 At least it rhymes to "Love:" but I'm prepared 
 
 To doubt (no less than landlords of their rental) 
 
 If "courts" and "camps" be quite so sentimental. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 But if Love don't. Cash does, and Cash alone: 
 Cash rules the grove, and fells it too besides; 
 
 Without cash, camps were thin, and courts were none ; 
 Without cash, Malthus tells you — "take no brides." 
 
 So Cash rules Love the ruler, on his own 
 High ground, as virgin Cynthia sways the tides: 
 
 And as for "Heaven being Love," why not say honey 
 
 Is wax.^ Heaven is not Love, 'tis Matrimony. 
 
184 DON JUAN. CANTO xii. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Is not all love prohibited whatever. 
 Excepting marriage? which is love, no doubt. 
 
 After a sort; but somehow people never 
 
 Wi th the same thought the two words have help'd out : 
 
 Love may exist with marriage, and should ever. 
 And marriage also may exist without; 
 
 But love sans bans is both a sin and, shame. 
 
 And ought to go by quite another name. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Now if the "court," and " camp," and "grove," be not 
 Recruited all with constant married men. 
 
 Who never coveted their neighbour's lot, 
 I say that line's a lapsus of the pen; — 
 
 Strange too in my '^'^buon caraerado" Scott, 
 So celebrated for his morals, when 
 
 My Jeffrey held him up as an example 
 
 To me ; — of which these morals are a sample. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Well, if I don't succeed, I have succeeded. 
 And that's enough; succeeded in my youth. 
 
 The only time when much success is needed: 
 And my success produced what I in sooth 
 
 Cared most about; it need not now be pleaded — 
 Whate'er it was, 'twas mine; I've paid, in truth. 
 
 Of late, the penalty of such success. 
 
 But have not learn'd to wish it any less. 
 
CANTO XII. DON JUAN. 185 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 That suit in Chancery, — which some persons plead 
 In an appeal to the unborn, whom they. 
 
 In the faith of their procreative creed. 
 Baptize posterity, or future clay, — 
 
 To me seems but a dubious kind of reed 
 To lean on for support in any way; 
 
 Since odds are that posterity wiU know 
 
 No more of them, than they of her, I trow. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Why, I'm posterity — and so are you; 
 
 And whom do we remember? Not a hundred. 
 Were every memory written down all true. 
 
 The tenth or twentieth name would be but blunder'd; 
 Even Plutarch's Lives have but pick'd out a few. 
 
 And 'gainst those few your annalists have thunder'd; 
 And Mitford in the nineteenth century 
 Gives, with Greek truth, the good old Greek the lie.O 
 
 XX. 
 
 Good people aU, of every degree, 
 
 Ye gentle readers and ungentle writers. 
 
 In this twelfth Canto 'tis my wish to be 
 As serious as if I had for inditers 
 
 Malthus and Wilberforce: — the last set free 
 The Negroes, and is worth a million fighters ; 
 
 While Wellington has but enslaved the Whites, 
 
 And Malthus does the thing 'gainst which he writes. 
 
186 DON JUAN. CANTO XII. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 I'm serious — so are all men upon paper; 
 
 And why should I not form my speculation. 
 And hold up to the sun my little taper.?" 
 
 Mankind just now seem wrapt in meditation 
 On constitutions and steam-boats of vapour; 
 
 While sages write against all procreation. 
 Unless a man can calculate his means 
 Of feeding brats the moment his wife weans. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 That's noble! That's romantic! For my part, 
 I think that "Philo-genitiveness" is — 
 
 (Now here's a word quite after my own heart. 
 Though there's a shorter a good deal than this. 
 
 If that poUteness set it not apart; 
 But I'm resolved to say nought that's amiss) — 
 
 I say, methinks that " Philo-genitiveness" 
 
 Might meet from men a little more forgiveness. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 And now to business. — O my gentle Juan ! 
 
 Thou art in London — in that pleasant place 
 Where every kind of mischief's daily brewing, 
 
 WTiich can await warm youth in its wild race. 
 'Tis true, that thy career is not a new one; 
 
 Thou art no novice in the headlong chase 
 Of early life; but this is a new land, 
 Which foreigners can never understand. 
 
CANTO XIX. DON JUAN. 187 
 
 XXIV, 
 What with a small diversity of climate, j 
 
 Of hot or cold, mercurial or sedate, 
 I could send forth my mandate like a primate 
 
 Upon the rest of Europe's social state; 
 But thou art the most difficult to rhyme at. 
 
 Great Britain, which the Muse may penetrate, 
 AU countries have their "Lions," but in thee 
 There is but one superb menagerie. 
 
 XXV, 
 
 But I am sick of politics. Begin, 
 
 '^'Paulo Majora." Juan, undecided 
 Amongst the paths of being "taken in," 
 
 Above the ice had like a skaiter glided : 
 When tired of play, he flirted without sin 
 
 With some of those fair creatures who have prided 
 Themselves on innocent tantalization. 
 And hate all vice except its reputation. 
 
 But these are few, and in the end they make 
 Some devihsh escapade or stir, which shows 
 
 That even the purest people may mistake 
 
 Their way through virtue's primrose paths of snows; 
 
 And then men stare, as if a new ass spake 
 To Balaam, and from tongue to ear o'erflows 
 
 Quicksilver small talk, ending (if you note it) 
 
 With the kind world's amen — "Who would have 
 thought it,^" 
 
188 DON JUAN. CANTO XII. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 The little Leila, with her orient eyes. 
 
 And taciturn Asiatic disposition 
 (Which saw all western things with small surprise, 
 
 To the surprise of people of condition. 
 Who think that novelties are hutterflies 
 
 To he pursued as food for inanition). 
 Her charming figure and romantic history 
 Became a kind of fashionable mystery. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 The women much divided — as is usual 
 Amongst the sex in little things or great. 
 
 Think not, fair creatures, that I mean to abuse you all — 
 I have always liked you better than I state: 
 
 Since I've grown moral, still I must accuse you all 
 ' Of being apt to talk at a great rate; 
 
 And now there was a general sensation 
 
 Amongst you, about Leila's education. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 In one point only were you settled— and 
 You had reason; 'twas that a young child of grace, 
 
 As beautiful as her own native land, 
 And far away, the last bud of her race, 
 
 Howe'er our friend Don Juan might command 
 Himself for five, four, three, or two years' space. 
 
 Would be much better taught beneath the eye 
 
 Of peeresses whose follies had run dry. 
 
CANTO XII. DON JUAN. 189 
 
 XXX. 
 
 So first there was a generous emulation. 
 And then there was a general competition 
 
 To undertake the orphan's education. 
 As Juan was a person of condition. 
 
 It had been an affront on this occasion 
 To talk of a subscription or petition ; 
 
 But sixteen dowagers, ten unwed she sages. 
 
 Whose tale belongs to "Hallam's Middle Ages," 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 And one or two sad, separate wives, without 
 A fruit to bloom upon their withering bough — 
 
 Begged to bring up the little girl, and "out," — 
 For that's the phrase that settles all things now. 
 
 Meaning a virgin's first blush at a rout. 
 And all her points as thorough-bred to show : 
 
 And I assure you, that like virgin honey 
 
 Tastes their first season (mostly if they have money) 
 
 How aU the needy honourable misters. 
 Each out-at-elbow peer, or desperate dandy. 
 
 The watchful mothers, and the careful sisters, 
 (Who, by the by, when clever, are more handy 
 
 At making matches, where ""^'tis gold that glisters,' 
 Than their he relatives) like flies o'er candy 
 
 Buzz round "the Fortune" with their busy battery. 
 
 To turn her head with waltzing and with flattery! 
 
190 DON JUAN. CANTO XII. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Each aunt, each cousin, hath her speculation; 
 
 Nay, married dames will now and then discover 
 Such pure disinterestedness of passion, 
 
 I've known them court an heiress for their lover. 
 " Tantsene !" Such the virtues of high station, 
 
 Even in the hopeful Isle, whose outlet's ''Dover!" 
 While the poor rich wretch, object of these cares. 
 Has cause to wish her sire had had male heirs. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Some are soon bagg'd, and some reject three dozen. 
 
 'Tis fine to see them scattering refusals 
 And wild dismay o'er every angry cousin 
 
 (Friends of the party), who begin accusals 
 Such as — " Unless Miss (Blank) meant to have chosen 
 
 Poor Frederick, why did she accord perusals 
 To his billets? Why waltz with him? Why, I pray, 
 Look yes last night, and yet say no to-day ? 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 "Why? — Why?,— Besides, Fred reaUy was attach' d; 
 
 'Twas not her fortune — he has enough without: 
 The time will come she'll wish that she had snatch'd 
 
 So good an opportunity, no doubt : — 
 But the old marchioness some plan had hatch' d. 
 
 As I 'U tell Aurea at to-morrow's rout : 
 And after all poor Frederick may do better — 
 Pray did you see her answer to his letter?" 
 
CANTO XII. DON JUAN. 191 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Smart uniforms and sparkling coronets 
 Are spurn'd in turn^ until her turn arrives^ 
 
 After male loss of time^, and hearts^ and bets 
 Upon the sweepstakes for substantial wives; 
 
 And when at last the pretty creature gets 
 
 Some gentleman^ who fights^ or writes^ or drives. 
 
 It soothes the awkward squad of the rejected 
 
 To find how very badly she selected. 
 
 For sometimes they accept some long pursuer. 
 
 Worn out with importunity; or fall 
 (But here perhaps the instances are fewer) 
 
 To the lot of him who scarce pursued at all. 
 A hazy widower turn'd of forty's sure(^) 
 
 (If 'tis not vain examples to recall) 
 To draw a high prize : now, howe'er he got her, I 
 See nought more strange in this than t'other lottery. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 I, for my part — (one "modern instance" more, 
 "True, 'tis a pity — pity 'tis, 'tis true") 
 
 Was chosen from out an amatory score. 
 
 Albeit my years were less discreet than few; 
 
 But though I also had reform'd before 
 
 Those became one who soon were to be two, 
 
 I'll not gainsay the generous public's voice. 
 
 That the young lady made a monstrous choice. 
 
192 DON JUAN. CANTO XIT. 
 
 Oil, pardon my digression — or at least 
 Peruse ! 'Tis always with a moral end 
 
 That I dissert, like grace before a feast: 
 For like an aged aunt, or tiresome friend, 
 
 A rigid guardian, or a zealous priest. 
 My Muse by exhortation means to mend 
 
 All people, at all times, and in most places. 
 
 Which puts my Pegasus to these grave paces. 
 
 XL. 
 
 But now I'm going to be immoral; now 
 I mean to show things reaUy as they are, 
 
 Not as they ought to be: for I avow. 
 
 That till we see what's what in fact, we're far 
 
 From much improvement with that virtuous plough 
 Which skims the surface, leaving scarce a scar 
 
 Upon the black loam long manured by Vice, 
 
 Only to keep its corn at the old price. 
 
 xri. . . 
 
 But first of little Leila we'll dispose; 
 
 For like a day-dawn she was young and pure, 
 Or like the old comparison of snows, 
 
 "Which are more pure than pleasant to be sure. 
 Like many people every body knows, 
 
 Don Juan was delighted to secure 
 A goodly guardian for his infant charge. 
 Who might not profit much by being at large, 
 t 
 
CANTO xii. DON JUAN. 193 
 
 XLII. 
 
 Besides, he had found out he Avas no tutor 
 (I wish that others would find out the same); 
 
 And rather wish'd in such things to stand neuter. 
 For silly wards will bring their guardians blame: 
 
 So when he saw each ancient dame a suitor 
 To make his little wild Asiatic tame. 
 
 Consulting "the Society for Vice I 
 
 Suppression," Lady Pinchbeck was his choice. ' 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 Olden she was — but had been very young; 
 
 Virtuous she was — and had been, I believe; 
 Although the world has such an evil tongue 
 
 That but my chaster ear will not receive 
 
 An echo of a syllable that's wrong: 
 
 In fact there's nothing makes me so much grieve 
 As that abominable tittle-tattle. 
 Which is the cud eschew'd by human cattle. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 Moreover I've remark'd (and I was once 
 A slight observer in a modest way). 
 
 And so may every one except a dunce. 
 That ladies in their youth a little gay, 
 
 Besides their knowledge of the world, and sense 
 Of the sad consequence of going astray. 
 
 Are wiser in their warnings 'gainst the woe 
 
 Which the mere passionless can never know. 
 
 VOL. II, , o 
 
194 DON JUAN. CANTO xii. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 While the harsh prude indemnifies her virtue 
 By railing at the unknown and envied passion. 
 
 Seeking far less to save you than to hurt you. 
 Or, what's still worse, to put you out of fashion, — 
 
 The kinder veteran with calm words wOl court you. 
 Entreating you to pause before you dash on; 
 
 Expounding and illustrating the riddle 
 
 Of epic Love's beginning, end, and middle. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 Now whether it be thus, or that they are stricter. 
 As better knowing why they should be so, 
 
 I think you'll find from many a family picture. 
 That daughters of such mothers as may know 
 
 The world by experience rather than by lecture. 
 Turn out much better for the Smithfield Show 
 
 Of vestals brought into the marriage mart, 
 
 Than those bred up by prudes without a heart. 
 
 XX,VII. 
 
 I said that Lady Pinchbeck had been talk'd about — 
 As who has not, if female, young, and pretty.'' 
 
 But now no more the ghost of Scandal stalk 'd about; 
 She merely was deem'd amiable and witty. 
 
 And several of her best bon-mots were hawk'd about: 
 Then she was given to charity and pity. 
 
 And pass'd (at least the latter years of Ufe) 
 
 For being a most exemplary wife. 
 
CANTO XII. DON JUAN. 195 
 
 XLvm. 
 High in high circles^ gentle in her own^ 
 
 She was the mild reprover of the young 
 Whenever — which means every day — they'd shown 
 
 An awkward inclination to go wrong. 
 The quantity of good she did 's unknown. 
 
 Or at the least would lengthen out my song: 
 In brief, the Uttle orphan of the East 
 Had raised an interest in her^ which increased. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 Juan too was a sort of favourite with her. 
 
 Because she thought him a good heart at bottom, 
 
 A little spoil'd, but not so altogether; 
 
 Which was a wonder, if you think who got him. 
 
 And how he had been toss'd, he scarce knew whither : 
 Though this might ruin others, it did not him. 
 
 At least entirely — for he had seen too many 
 
 Changes in youth, to be surprised at any. 
 
 And these vicissitudes teU best in youth; 
 
 For when they happen at a riper age. 
 People are apt to blame the Fates, forsooth. 
 
 And wonder Providence is not more sage. 
 Adversity is the first path to truth : 
 
 He who hath proved war, storm, or woman's rage. 
 Whether his winters be eighteen or eighty. 
 Hath won the experience which is deem'd so weighty. 
 
 2 
 
196 DON JUAN. CANTO XII. 
 
 LI. 
 
 How far it profits is another matter. — 
 
 Our hero gladly saw his Uttle charge 
 Safe with a lady, whose last grown-up daughter 
 
 Being long married^ and thus set at large. 
 Had left all the accomplishments she taught her 
 
 To be transmitted, like the Lord Mayor's barge. 
 To the next comer; or — as it will tell 
 More Muse-like — like Cytherea's shell. 
 
 LII. 
 
 I call such things transmission ; for there is 
 
 A floating balance of accompUshment 
 Which forms a pedigree from Miss to Miss, 
 
 Accorxling as their minds or backs are bent. 
 Some waltz; some draw; some fathom the abyss 
 
 Of metaphysics; others are content 
 With music; the most moderate shine as wits; 
 While others have a genius turn'd for fits. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 But whether fits, or wits, or harpsichords. 
 
 Theology, fine arts, or finer stays 
 May be the baits for gentlemen or lords 
 
 With regular descent, in these our days. 
 The last year to the new transfers its hoards; 
 
 New vestals claim men's eyes with the same praise 
 Of "elegant" et cetera, in fresh batches — 
 All matchless creatures, and yet bent on matches. 
 
CANTO XII. DON JUAN. 197 
 
 LIV. 
 
 But now I will begin my poem. 'Tis 
 Perhaps a little strangC;, if not quite new. 
 
 That from the first of Cantos up to this 
 
 I 've not begun what we have to go through. 
 
 These first twelve books are merely flourishes, 
 Preludios, trying just a string or two 
 
 Upon my lyre, or making the pegs sure; 
 
 And when so, you shall have the overture. 
 
 My Muses do not care a pinch of rosin 
 
 About what's call'd success, or not succeeding: 
 
 Such thoughts are quite below the strain they have 
 'Tis a "gi-eat moral lesson" they are reading, [chosen ; 
 
 I thought, at setting off, about two dozen 
 Cantos would do ; but at Apollo's pleading. 
 
 If that my Pegasus should not be founder' d, 
 
 I think to canter gently through a hundred. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 Don Juan saw that microcosm on stilts. 
 Yclept the Great World; for it is the least. 
 
 Although the highest : but as swords have hilts 
 By which their power of mischief is increased. 
 
 When man in battle or in quarrel tilts. 
 
 Thus the low world, north, south, or west, or east. 
 
 Must still obey the high — which is their handle. 
 
 Their moon, their sun, their gas, their farthing candle. 
 
198 DON JUAN. CANTO XII. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 He had many friends who had many wives^ and was 
 Well look'd upon by both^ to that extent 
 
 Of friendship which you may accept or pass^ 
 It does nor good nor harm; being merely meant 
 
 To keep the wheels going of the higher class. 
 And draw them nightly when a ticket's sent: 
 
 And what with masquerades, and fetes, and balls. 
 
 For the first season such a life scarce palls. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 A young unmarried man, with a good name 
 And fortune, has an awkward part to play; 
 
 For good society is but a game, 
 
 " The royal game of Goose," as I may say. 
 
 Where every body has some separate aim. 
 An end to answer, or a plan to lay — 
 
 The single ladies wishing to be double. 
 
 The married ones to save the virgins trouble. 
 
 LIS. 
 
 I don't mean this as general, but particular 
 Examples may be found of such pursuits: 
 
 Though several also keep their perpendicular 
 Like poplars, with good principles for roots; 
 
 Yet many have a method more reticulai — 
 '^' Fishers for men," like sirens with soft lutes: 
 
 For talk six times with the same single lady. 
 
 And you may get the wedding dresses ready. 
 
CANTO XII. DON JUAN. 199 
 
 Perhaps you'll have a letter from the mother. 
 To say her daughter's feehngs are trepann'd; 
 
 Perhaps you'll have a visit from the brother. 
 All strut, and stays, and whiskers, to demand 
 
 What "your intentions are?" — One way or other 
 It seems the virgin's heart expects your hand; 
 
 And between pity for her case and yours. 
 
 You'll add to Matrimony's list of cures. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 I've known a dozen weddings made even thus, 
 
 And some of them high names: I have also known 
 
 Young men who — though they hated to discuss 
 Pretensions which they never dream'd to have 
 
 Yet neither frighten'd by a female fuss, [shown — 
 Nor by mustachios moved, were let alone. 
 
 And lived, as did the broken-hearted fair. 
 
 In happier plight than if they form'd a pair. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 There's also nightly, to the uninitiated, 
 A peril — not indeed like love or marriage. 
 
 But not the less for this to be depreciated: 
 It is — I meant and mean not to disparage 
 
 The show of virtue even in the vitiated — 
 
 It adds an outward grace unto their carriage — 
 
 But to denounce the amphibious sort of harlot, 
 
 "Couleur de rose," who's neither white nor scarlet. 
 
200 DON JUAN. canto xir, 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 Such is your cold coquette, who can't say '^'No," 
 And won't say "Yes/' and keeps you on and oflp-ing. 
 
 On a lee-shore, till it begins to blow — 
 
 Then sees your heart wreck' d, with an inward scoffing. 
 
 This works a world of sentimental woe. 
 
 And sends new Werters yearly to their coffin; 
 
 But yet is merely innocent flirtation. 
 
 Not quite adultery, but adulteration. 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 "Ye gods, I grow a talker!" Let us prate. 
 
 The next of perils, though I place it sternest, 
 Is when, without regard to " church or state," 
 
 A wife makes or takes love in upright earnest. 
 Abroad, such things decide few women's fate — 
 
 (Such, early traveller! is the truth thou learn est) — 
 But in old England, when a young bride errs, 
 Poor thing ! Eve's was a trifling case to hers. 
 
 For 'tis a low, newspaper, humdrum, lawsuit 
 Country, where a young couple of the same ages 
 
 Can't form a friendship, but the world o'erawes it. 
 Then there's the vulgar trick of those d— d damages ! 
 
 A verdict — grievous foe to those who cause it ! — 
 Forms a sad climax to romantic homages; 
 
 Besides those soothing speeches of the pleaders. 
 
 And evidences which regale aU readers. 
 
CjVnto XII. DON JUAN. 201 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 But they who blunder thus are raw beginners; 
 
 A little genial sprinkling of hypocrisy- 
 Has saved the fame of thousand splendid sinnerS;, 
 
 The loveliest oligarchs of our gynocracy; 
 You may see such at aU the balls and dinners^ 
 
 Among the proudest of our aristocracy^ 
 So gentle, charming, charitable, chaste — 
 And all by having tact as well as taste. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 Juan, who did not stand in the predicament 
 Of a mere novice, had one safeguard more; 
 
 For he was sick no, 'twas no t the word sick I meant — 
 
 But he had seen so much good love before. 
 
 That he was not in heart so very weak; — I meant 
 But thus much, and no sneer against the shore 
 
 Of white cliffs, white necks, blue eyes, bluer stockings. 
 
 Tithes, taxes, duns, and doors with double knockings. 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 But coming young from lands and scenes romantic. 
 Where lives, not lawsuits, must be risk'd for Passion, 
 
 And Passion's self must have a spice of frantic. 
 Into a country where 'tis half a fashion, 
 
 Seem'd to him half commercial, half pedantic, 
 Howe'er he might esteem this moral nation : 
 
 Besides (alas! his taste— forgive and pity!) 
 
 At first he did not think the women pretty. 
 
202 DON JUAN. canto xii. 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 I say dA. first — for he found out at last, . 
 
 But by degrees^ that they were fairer far 
 Than the more glowing dames whose lot is cast 
 
 Beneath the influence of the eastern star. 
 A further proof we should not judge in haste; 
 
 Yet inexperience could not be his bar 
 To taste: — the truth is, if men would confess. 
 That novelties please less than they impress. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 Though travel!' d, I have never had the luck to 
 Trace up those shuSing negroes, Nile or Niger, 
 
 To that impracticable place Timbuctoo, 
 
 Where Geography finds no one to oblige her 
 
 With such a chart as may be safely stuck to — 
 For Europe ploughs in Afric like ''bos piger :" 
 
 But if I had been at Timbuctoo, there 
 
 No doubt I should be told that black is fair. 
 
 ixxi. 
 It is. I wiU not swear that black is white; 
 
 But I suspect in fact that white is black. 
 And the whole matter rests upon eye-sight. 
 
 Ask a blind man, the best judge. You'll attack 
 Perhaps this new position — but I'm right; 
 
 Or if I'm wrong, I'U not be ta'en aback: — 
 He hath no morn nor night, but all is dark 
 Within; and what seest thou.'' A dubious spark. 
 
CANTO XII. DON JUAN. 203 
 
 But I'm relapsing into metaphysics;, 
 
 That labyrinth, whose clue is of the same 
 
 Construction as your cures for hectic phthisicS;, 
 
 Those bright moths fluttering round a dying flame; 
 
 And this reflection brings me to plain physics. 
 And to the beauties of a foreign dame. 
 
 Compared with those of our pure pearls of price, I 
 
 Those polar summers, all sun, and some ice. I 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 Or say they are like virtuous mermaids, whose 
 Beginnings are fair faces, ends mere fishes; — 
 
 Not that there's not a quantity of those 
 
 Who have a due respect for their own wishes. 
 
 Like Russians rushing from hot baths to snows (3) 
 Are they, at bottom virtuous even when vicious : 
 
 They warm into a scrape, but keep of course. 
 
 As a reserve, a plunge into remorse. 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 But this has nought to do with their outsides. 
 
 I said that Juan did not think them pretty 
 At the first blush; for a fair Briton hides 
 
 Half her attractions — probably from pity — 
 And rather calmly into the heart glides. 
 
 Than storms it as a foe would take a city; 
 But once there (if you doubt this, prithee try) 
 She keeps it for you like a true ally. 
 
204 DON JUAN. canto xii. 
 
 She cannot step as does an Arab barb^, 
 Or Andalusian girl from mass returning. 
 
 Nor wear as gracefully as Gauls her garb, 
 Nor in her eye Ausonia's glance is burning; 
 
 Her voice, though sweet, is not so fit to warb- 
 le those bravuras (which I still am learning 
 
 To like, though I have been seven years in Italy^ 
 
 And have, or had, an ear that served me prettily) ; — 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 She cannot do these things, nor one or two 
 Others, in that off-hand and dashing style 
 
 Which takes so much — ^to give the devil his due; 
 Nor is she quite so ready with her smile. 
 
 Nor settles all things in one interview, 
 
 (A thing approved as saving time and toil); — 
 
 But though the soil may give you time and trouble. 
 
 Well cultivated, it will render double. 
 
 And if in fact she takes to a '^'^grande passion," 
 
 It is a very serious thing indeed: 
 Nine times in ten 'tis but caprice or fashion. 
 
 Coquetry, or a wish to take the lead. 
 The pride of a mere child with a new sash on. 
 
 Or wish to make a rival's bosom bleed : 
 But the tenth instance wiU be a tornado, 
 For there's no saying what they wiU or may do. 
 
CANTO XII. DON JUAN. 205 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 The reason's obvious: if there's an eclat. 
 
 They lose their caste at once, as do the Pariasj 
 
 And when the delicacies of the law 
 
 Have fiU'd their papers with their comments various. 
 
 Society, that china without flaw, 
 
 (The hypocrite!) will banish them like Marius, 
 
 To sit amidst the ruins of their guilt : 
 
 For Fame's a Carthage not so soon rebuilt. 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 Perhaps this is as it should be; — it is 
 A comment on the Gospel's "Sin no more. 
 
 And be thy sins forgiven :" — but upon this 
 I leave the saints to settle their own score. 
 
 Abroad, though doubtless they do much amiss. 
 An erring woman finds an opener door 
 
 For her return to Virtue— as they call 
 
 That lady who should be at home to all. 
 
 zxxx. 
 
 For me, I leave the matter where I find it. 
 Knowing that such uneasy virtue leads 
 
 People some ten times less in fact to mind it, 
 And care but for discoveries and not deeds. 
 
 And as for chastity, you'll never bind it 
 By all the laws the strictest lawyer pleads. 
 
 But aggravate the crime you have not prevented. 
 
 By rendering desperate those who had else repented. 
 
206 DON JUAN. CANTO xii. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 But Juan was no casuist,, nor had ponder'd 
 
 Upon the moral lessons of mankind : 
 Besides, he had not seen of several hundred 
 
 A lady altogether to his mind. 
 A httle "blase" — 'tis not to be wonder'd 
 
 At, that his heart had got a tougher rind : 
 And though not vainer from his past success. 
 No doubt his sensibilities were less, 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 He also had been busy seeing sights — ■ 
 The Parliament and all the other houses ; 
 
 Had sat beneath the gallery at nights. 
 
 To hear debates whose thunder roused (not rouses') 
 
 The world to gaze upon those northern lights <*) 
 Which flash'd as far as where themusk-bull browses; 
 
 He had also stood at times behind the throne — 
 
 But Grey was not arrived, and Chatham gone. 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 He saw, however, at the closing session. 
 
 That noble sight, when really free the nation, 
 
 A king in constitutional possession 
 
 Of such a throne as is the proudest station. 
 
 Though despots know it not — tiU the progression 
 Of freedom shall complete their education. 
 
 'Tis not mere splendour makes the show august 
 
 To eye or heart — it is the people's trust. 
 
CANTO XII. DON JUAN. 207 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 There too he saw (whate'er he may be now) 
 A Prince^ the prince of princes at the time^ 
 
 With fascination in his very bow. 
 
 And full of promise^ as the spring of prime. 
 
 Though royalty was written on his brow. 
 
 He had then the grace too, rare in every clime. 
 
 Of being, without aUoy of fop or beau, 
 
 A finish'd gentleman from top to toe. 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 And Juan was received, as hath been said. 
 
 Into the best society: and there 
 Occurr'd what often happens, I'm afraid. 
 
 However di'sciplined and debonnaire: — 
 The talent and good humour he display'd. 
 
 Besides the mark'd distinction of his air. 
 Exposed him, as was natural, to temptation, 
 Even though himself avoided the occasion. 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 But what, and where, with whom, and when, and why. 
 
 Is not to be put hastily together; 
 And as my object is morality 
 
 (Whatever people say), I don't know whether 
 I '11 leave a single reader's eyelid dry. 
 
 But harrow up his feehngs till they wither, 
 And hew out a huge monument of pathos. 
 As Philip's son proposed to do with Athos. (s) 
 
20S DON JUAN. CANTO XII. 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 Here the twelfth Canto of our introduction 
 Ends. When the body of the book's begun. 
 
 You'll find it of a different construction 
 
 From what some people say 'twill be when done: 
 
 The plan at present's simply in concoction. 
 
 - I can't oblige you, reader, to read on; 
 
 That's your affair, not mine: a real spirit 
 
 Should neither court neglect, nor dread to bear it. 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 And if my thunderbolt not always rattles. 
 Remember, reader ! you have had before 
 
 The worst of tempests and the best of battles 
 That e'er were brew'd from elements or gore^. 
 
 Besides the most sublime of — Heaven knows what else: 
 An usurer could scarce expect much more — 
 
 But my best canto, save one on astronomy. 
 
 Will turn upon "political economy." 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 That is your present theme for popularity: 
 Now that the public hedge hath scarce a stake. 
 
 It grows an act of patriotic charity. 
 To show the people the best way to break. 
 
 3Iii plan (but I, if but for singularity. 
 Reserve it) will be very sure to take. 
 
 Meantime, read all the national debt-sinkers. 
 
 And tell me what you think of your great thinkers. 
 
 t 
 
NOTES TO CANTO XIL 
 
 Note 1, page 185, stanza xix 
 
 And Mitford in the nineteenth century 
 
 Gives, ivith Greek truth, the good old Gieek the lie. 
 
 See Mitford's Greece. " Grsecise Verax." His great pleasure 
 consists in praising tyrants, abusing Plutarch, spelling oddly, and 
 writing quaintly ; and what is strange, after all, his is the best 
 modern history of Greece in any language, and he is perhaps the 
 best of all modern historians whatsoever. Having named his 
 sins, it is but fair to state his virtues — learning, labour, research, 
 wrath, and partiality. I call the latter virtues in a writer, be- 
 cause they make him write in earnest. 
 
 Note 2, page 191, stanza xxxvii. 
 
 A haiy widower turn'd of forty's sure 
 To draw a high prize. 
 
 This line may puzzle the commentators more than the present 
 generation. 
 
 Note 3, page 203, stanza Ixxiii. 
 Like Russians rushing from hot baths to snows. 
 The Russians, as is well known, run out from their hot baths 
 to plunge into the Neva ; a pleasant practical antithesis, which it 
 seems does them no harm. 
 
 Note 4, page 206, stanza Ixxxii. 
 
 To hear debates ivhose thunder roused (not rouses) 
 The world to gaze upon those northern lights 
 Which fasJrd as far as where the musk-bull broivses. 
 
 For a description and print of this inhabitant of the polar re- 
 gion and native country of the Aurorse Boreales, see Parry's 
 Voyage in search of a North-West Passage. 
 
 VOL. II. P 
 
210 NOTES TO CANTO XTI. 
 
 Note 5, page 207, stanza Ixxxvi. 
 
 And hew out a huge monument of pathos, 
 As Philip's son proposed to do with Athos, 
 
 A sculptor projected to hew Mount Athos into a statue of 
 Alexander, with a city in one hand, and, I helieve, a river in his 
 pocket, with various other similar devices. But Alexander 's 
 gone, and Athos remains, I trust ere long to look over a nation 
 of freemen. 
 
DON JUAN. 
 
 CANTO XIII. 
 
 I. 
 I NOW mean to be serious; — it is tirae^ 
 
 Since laughter now-a-days is deem'd too serious. 
 A jest at Vice by Virtue's call'd a crime^ 
 
 And critically held as deleterious : 
 Besides, the sad's a source of the sublime. 
 
 Although when long a little apt to weary us; 
 And therefore shall my lay soar high and solemn. 
 As an old temple dwindled to a column. 
 
 II. 
 The Lady Adeline Amundeville 
 
 ('Tis an old Norman name, and to be found 
 In pedigrees by those who wander still 
 
 Along the last fields of that Gothic ground) 
 Was high-born, wealthy by her father's will. 
 
 And beauteous, even where beauties most abound, 
 In Britain — which of course true patriots find 
 The goodliest soil of body and of mind. 
 
 p '2 
 
212 DON JUAN. canto xiii. 
 
 III. 
 I'll not gainsay them; it is not my cue; 
 
 I'll leave them to their taste, no doubt the best: 
 An eye's an eye^ and whether black or blue, . 
 
 Is no great matter, so 'tis in request, 
 'Tis nonsense to dispute about a hue — 
 
 The kindest may be taken as a test. 
 The fair sex should be always fair; and no man, 
 TiU thirty, should perceive there's a plain woman. 
 
 IV. 
 
 And after that serene and somewhat dull 
 Epoch, that awkward corner turn'd for days 
 
 More quiet, when our moon 's no more at full. 
 We may presume to criticise or praise; 
 
 Because indifference begins to luU 
 
 Our passions^ and we walk in wisdom's ways ; 
 
 Also because the figure and the face 
 
 Hint, that 'tis time to give the younger place. 
 
 V. 
 
 I know that some would fain postpone this era. 
 
 Reluctant as all placemen to resign 
 Their post; but theirs is merely a chimera. 
 
 For they have pass'd life's equinoctial line: 
 But then they have their claret and Madeira 
 
 To irrigate the dryness of decline; 
 And county meetings, and the parliament. 
 And debt, and what not, for their solace sent. 
 
CAMTO xni. DON JUAN. 213 
 
 And is there not religion^ and reform. 
 
 Peace, war, the taxes, and what 'scalFd the "Nation?" 
 The struggle to be pilots in a storm? 
 
 The landed and the monied speculation? 
 The joys of mutual hate to keep them warm. 
 
 Instead of love, that mere hallucination? 
 Now hatred is by far the longest pleasure ; \ 
 
 Men love in haste, but they detest at leisure. | 
 
 VII. 
 
 Rough Johnson, the great moralist, profess' d. 
 Right honestly, "he liked an honest hater!" — (^* 
 
 The only truth that yet has been confest 
 Within these latest thousand years or later. 
 
 Perhaps the fine old fellow spoke in jest: — 
 For my part, I am but a mere spectator. 
 
 And gaze where'er the palace or the hovel is. 
 
 Much in the mode of Goethe's Mephistopheles; 
 
 VIII. 
 
 But neither love nor hate in much excess; 
 
 Though 'twas not once so. If I sneer sometimes, 
 It is because I cannot weU do less. 
 
 And now and then it also suits my rhymes. 
 I should be very willing to redress 
 
 Men's wrongs, and rather check than punish crimes. 
 Had not Cervantes, in that too true tale 
 Of Quixote, shown how all such efforts fail. 
 
214 DON JUAN. CANTO XIII. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Of all tales 'tis the saddest — and more sad^ 
 Because it makes us smile: his hero's right. 
 
 And still pursues the right; — to curb the bad 
 His only object, and 'gainst odds to fight 
 
 His guerdon : 'tis his virtue makes him mad ! 
 But his adventures form a sorry sight; — 
 
 A sorrier stiU is the great moral taught 
 
 By that real epic unto all who have thought. 
 
 X. 
 
 Redressing injury, revenging wrong, 
 
 To aid the damsel and destroy the caitiff; 
 
 Opposing singly the united strong. 
 
 From foreign yoke to free the helpless native: — 
 
 Alas ! must noblest views, like an old song. 
 Be for mere fancy's sport a theme creative, 
 
 A jest, a riddle. Fame through thick and thin sought! 
 
 And Socrates himself but Wisdom's Quixote? 
 
 XI. 
 
 Cervantes smiled Spain's chivalry away; 
 
 A single laugh demoUsh'd the right ariri 
 Of his own country; — seldom since that day 
 
 Has Spain had heroes. While Romance could charm, 
 The world gave ground before her bright array; 
 
 And therefore have his volumes done such harm, 
 That all their glory, as a composition, 
 Was dearly purchased by his land's perdition. 
 
CANTO XIII. DON JUAN. 215 
 
 XII. 
 
 I'm "at my old Lunes" — digression^ and forget 
 
 The Lady Adeline Amundeville; 
 The fair most fatal Juan ever metj 
 
 Although she was not evil nor meant ill; 
 But Destiny and Passion spread the net I 1 J^ /^ 
 
 (Fate is a good excuse for our own will), I • 
 
 And caught them ; — what do they not catch, methinks? 
 But I'm not CEdipus^ and life's a Sphinx. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 I tell the tale as it is told^ nor dare 
 
 To venture a solution : " Davus sum !" 
 And now I will proceed upon the pair. 
 
 Sweet Adeline, amidst the gay world's hum. 
 Was the Queen-Bee, the glass of all that's fair; 
 
 Whose charms made all men speak, and women dumb. 
 The last's a miracle, and such was reckon'd. 
 And since that time there has not been a second. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Chaste was she, to detraction's desperation. 
 
 And wedded unto one she had loved well — 
 A man known in the councils of the nation. 
 
 Cool, and quite English, imperturbable. 
 Though apt to act with fire upon occasion. 
 
 Proud of himself and her: the world could tell 
 Nought against either, and both seem'd secure- 
 She in her virtue, he in his hauteur. 
 
2 1 6 DON JUAN. 
 
 CANTO XIII. 
 
 XV. 
 
 It chanced some diplomatical relations^ 
 Arising out of business^ often brought 
 
 Himself and Juan in their mutual stations 
 
 Into close contact. Though reserved^ nor caught 
 
 By specious seeming^ Juan's youth^ and patience^ 
 And talentj on his haughty spirit wrought^ 
 
 And form'd a basis of esteem^ which ends 
 
 In making men what courtesy calls friends. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 And thus Lord Henry, who was cautious as 
 
 Reserve and pride could make him, and full slow 
 
 In judging men — when once his judgment was 
 Determined, right or wrong, on friend or foe. 
 
 Had all the pertinacity pride has. 
 
 Which knows no ebb to its imperious flow. 
 
 And loves or hates, disdaining to be guided. 
 
 Because its own good pleasure hath decided. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 His friendships, therefore, and no less aversions. 
 Though oft well founded, which confirm'd but more 
 
 His prepossessions, Hke the laws of Persians 
 
 And Medes, woidd ne'er revoke what went before. 
 
 His feehngs had not those strange fits, like tertians. 
 Of common likings, which make some deplore 
 
 \VTiat they should laugh at — the mere ague still 
 
 Of men's regard, the fever or the chiU. 
 
CANTO XIII. DON JUAN. 21/ 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 "'Tis not in mortals to command success: 
 
 But do you more, Sempronius — don't deserve itj" 
 
 And take my word^ you won't have any less. 
 Be wary^ watch the time, and always serve it; 
 
 Give gently way, when there's too great a press; 
 And for your conscience, only learn to nerve it, — 
 
 For like a racer, or a hoxer training, 
 
 'Twill make, if proved, vast efforts without paining. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Lord Henry also liked to be superior. 
 As most men do, the little or the great; 
 
 The very lowest find out an inferior. 
 
 At least they think so, to exert their state 
 
 Upon: for there are very few things wearier 
 Than solitary Pride's oppressive weight. 
 
 Which mortals generously would divide. 
 
 By bidding others carry while they ride. 
 
 XX. 
 
 In birth, in rank, in fortune likewise equal. 
 O'er Juan he could no distinction claim; 
 
 In years he had the advantage of time's sequel; 
 And, as he thought, in country much the same — 
 
 Because bold Britons have a tongue and free quill. 
 At which all modern nations vainly aim ; 
 
 And the Lord Henry was a great debater. 
 
 So that few members kept the house up later. - 
 
218 DON JUAN. CANTO XIII. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 These were advantages : and then he thought — 
 It was his foible, but by no means sinister — 
 
 That few or none more than himself had caught 
 Court mysteries, having been himself a minister: 
 
 He liked to teach that which he had been taught. 
 And greatly shone whenever there had been a stir; 
 
 And reconciled all qualities which grace man. 
 
 Always a patriot, and sometimes a placeman. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 He liked the gentle Spaniard for his gravity; 
 
 He almost honour'd him for his docility. 
 Because, though young, he acquiesced with suavity, 
 
 Or contradicted but with proud humility. 
 He knevp the world, and would not see depravity 
 
 In faults which sometimes show the soil's fertility, 
 If that the weeds o'erlive not the first crop — 
 For then they are very difficult to stop. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 And then he talk'd with him about Madrid, 
 Constantinople, and such distant places; 
 
 Where people always did as they were bid. 
 Or did what they should not with foreign graces. 
 
 Of coursers also spake they: Henry rid 
 
 Well, like most Englishmen, and loved the races; 
 
 And Juan, like a true-born Andalusian, 
 
 Could back a horse, as despots ride a Russian. 
 
CANTO XIII. DON JUAN. 219 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 And thus acquaintance grew^ at noble routs^ 
 And diplomatic dinners^ or at other — 
 
 For Juan stood well both -with Ins and Outs, 
 As in freemasonry a higher brother. 
 
 Upon his talent Henry had no doubts; 
 
 His manner show'd him sprung from a high mother ; 
 
 And all men like to show their hospitality 
 
 To him whose breeding matches with his quahty. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 At Blank-Blank Square; — for we will break no squares 
 By naming streets: since men are so censorious^ 
 
 And apt to sow an author's wheat with tares, 
 Reaping allusions private and inglorious, 
 
 WTiere none were dreamt of, unto love's affairs. 
 Which were, or are, or are to be notorious. 
 
 That therefore do I previously declare. 
 
 Lord Henry's mansion was in Blank-Blank Square. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Also there bin (2) another pious reason 
 
 For making squares and streets anonymous; 
 
 Which is, that there is scarce a single season 
 ^'Fhich doth not shake some very splendid house 
 
 With some slight heart-quake of domestic treason — 
 A topic scandal doth delight to rouse: 
 
 Such 1 might stumble over unawares. 
 
 Unless I knew the very chastest squares. 
 
220 DON JUAN. canto xiii. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 'Tis true^ I might have chosen Piccadilly^ 
 A place where peccadillos are unknown ; 
 
 But I have motives, whether wise or silly. 
 For letting that pure sanctuary alone. 
 
 Therefore I name not square, street, place, until I 
 Find one where nothing naughty can be shown, 
 
 A vestal shrine of innocence of heart : 
 
 Such are — —but I have lost the, London Chart. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 At Henry's mansion then, in Blank-Blank Square, 
 Was Juan a recherche, welcome guest. 
 
 As many other noble scions were; 
 
 And some who had but talent for their crest; 
 
 Or wealth, which is a passport every where; 
 Or even mere fashion, which indeed 's the best 
 
 Recommendation; and to be well drest 
 
 Will very often supersede the rest. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 And since '^' there's safety in a multitude 
 
 Of counsellors," as Solomon has said. 
 Or some one for him, in some sage, grave mood; — 
 
 Indeed we see the daily proof display'd 
 In senates, at the bar, in wordy feud. 
 
 Where'er collective wisdom can parade. 
 Which is the only cause that we can guess 
 Of Britain's present wealth and happiness; — 
 
CANTO XIII. , DON JUAN. 22] 
 
 XXX. 
 
 But as "there's safety" grafted in the number 
 "Of counsellors" for men^ — thus for the sex 
 
 A large acquaintance lets not Virtue slumber; 
 
 Or should it shake^ the choice will more perplex — 
 
 Variety itself will more encumber. 
 
 'Midst many rocks we guard more against wrecks; 
 
 And thus with women : howsoe'er it shocks some's 
 
 Self-lovCj there's safety in a crowd of coxcombs. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 But Adeline had not the least occasion 
 
 For such a shield, which leaves but little merit 
 
 To virtue proper, or good education. 
 
 Her chief resource was in her own high spirit, 
 
 ^Vhich judged mankind at their due estimation; 
 And for coquetry, she disdain'd to wear it: 
 
 Secure of admiration, its impression 
 
 Was faint, as of an every day possession. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 To all she was polite without parade; 
 
 To some she show'd attention of that kind 
 Which flatters, but is flattery convey'd 
 
 In such a sort as cannot leave behind 
 A trace unworthy either wife or maid; — 
 
 A gentle, genial courtesy of mind. 
 To those who were, or pass'd for meritorious, 
 Just to console sad glory for being glorious; 
 
222 DON JUAN. 
 
 CANTO XIII. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Which is in all respects^ save now and then^ 
 A dull and desolate appendage. Gaze 
 
 Upon the shades of those distinguish'd men^ 
 Who were or are the puppet-shows of praise. 
 
 The praise of persecution. Gaze again 
 
 On the most favour'd; and amidst the blaze 
 
 Of sunset halos o'er the laurel-brow' d. 
 
 What can ye recognize.'' — a gilded cloud. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 There also was of course in Adeline 
 
 That calm patrician polish in the address. 
 
 Which ne'er can pass the equinoctial line 
 Of any thing which Nature would express : 
 
 Just as a mandarin finds nothing fine, — 
 At least his manner suffers not to guess 
 
 That any thing he views can greatly please. 
 
 Perhaps we have borrow'd this from the Chinese- 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Perhaps from Horace: his "Nil admirari" 
 Was what he call'd the '''^Art of Happiness;" 
 
 An art on which the artists greatly vary. 
 And have not yet attain'd to much success. 
 
 However, 'tis expedient to be wary: 
 Indifference certes don't produce distress; 
 
 And rash enthusiasm in good society 
 
 Were nothing but a moral inebriety. 
 
CANTO XIII. DON JUAN. 223 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 But Adeline was not indifferent : for 
 
 {Now for a common-place !) beneath the snow, 
 
 As a volcano holds the lava more 
 
 Within — et ccetera. Shall I go on? — No! 
 
 I hate to hunt down a tired metaphor. 
 So let the often-used volcano go. 
 
 Poor thing ! How frequently, by me and others. 
 
 It hath been stirr'd up till its smoke quite smothers ! 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 I'll have another figure in a trice: — 
 What say you to a bottle of champagne? 
 
 Frozen into a very vinous ice. 
 
 Which leaves few drops of that immortal rain. 
 
 Yet in the very centre, past all price. 
 About a liquid glass-fuU will remain ; 
 
 And this is stronger than the strongest grape 
 
 Could e'er express in its expanded shape: 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 'Tis the whole spirit brought to a quintessence; 
 
 And thus the chilliest aspects may concentre 
 A hidden nectar under a cold presence. 
 
 And such are many — though I only meant her 
 From whom I now deduce these moral lessons. 
 
 On which the Muse has always sought to enter. 
 And your cold people are beyond aU price. 
 When once you have broken their confounded ice. 
 
224 DON JUAN. CANTO XIII. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 But after all they are a North-West Passage 
 
 Unto the glowing India of the soul ; 
 And as the good ships sent upon that message 
 
 Have not exactly ascertain'd the Pole 
 (Though Parry's efforts look a lucky presage), 
 
 Thus gentlemen may run upon a shoal ; 
 For if the Pole's not open, but all frost 
 (A chance still)^ 'tis a voyage or vessel lost. 
 
 xx. 
 And young beginners may as well commence 
 
 With quiet cruising o'er the ocean woman; 
 While those who are not beginners should have sense 
 
 Enough to make for port, ere time shall summon 
 With his gray signal-flag; and the past tense^ 
 
 The dreary " Fuim;us" of aU things human, 
 Must be declined, while life's thin thread's spun out 
 Between the gaping heir and gnawing gout. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 But Heaven must be diverted; its diversion 
 Is sometimes truculent — but never mind: 
 
 The world upon the whole is worth the assertion 
 (If but for comfort) that all things are kind: 
 
 And that same deviUsh doctrine of the Persian, 
 Of the two principles, but leaves behind 
 
 As many doubts as any other doctrine v 
 
 Has ever puzzled Faith withal, or yoked her in. 
 
CANTO XIII. DON JUAN. 225 
 
 XLII. 
 
 The English winter — ending in July, 
 To recommence in August — now was done. 
 
 'Tis the postUions paradise: wheels fly; 
 
 On roads, east, south, north, west, there is a run. 
 
 But for post-horses who finds sympathy? 
 Man's pity's for himself, or for his son. 
 
 Always premising that said son at college 
 
 Has not contracted much more debt than knowledge. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 The London winter's ended in July — 
 Sometimes a little later. I don't err 
 
 In this : whatever other blunders lie 
 Upon my shoulders, here I must aver 
 
 My Muse a glass of weatherology; 
 For parliament is our barometer : 
 
 Let radicals its other acts attack, 
 
 Its sessions form our only almanack. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 When its quicksilver's down at zero, — lo ! 
 
 Coach, chariot, luggage, baggage, equipage ! 
 Wheels whirl from Carlton palace to Soho, 
 
 And happiest they who horses can engage; 
 The turnpikes glow with dust; and Rotten Row 
 
 Sleeps from the chivalry of this bright age; 
 And tradesmen, with long bills and longer faces. 
 Sigh — as the postboys fasten on the traces. 
 
 VOL. II. Q 
 
226 DON JUAN. 
 
 CANTO XIII. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 They and their bills, "Arcadians both/'(3) are left 
 To the Greek kalends of another session. 
 
 Alas ! to them of ready cash bereft. 
 
 What hope remains? Of hope the full possession. 
 
 Or generous draft, conceded as a gift, 
 
 At a long date — till they can get a fresh one — 
 
 Hawk'd about at a discount, small or large; 
 
 Also the solace of an overcharge. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 But these are trifles. Downward flies my lord 
 Nodding beside my lady in his carriage. 
 
 Away! away! '''^ Fresh horses !" are the word. 
 And changed as quickly as hearts after marriage; 
 
 The obsequious landlord hath the change restored; 
 The postboys have no reason to disparage 
 
 Their fee; but ere the water'd wheels may hiss hence. 
 
 The ostler pleads for a reminiscence. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 'Tis granted; and the valet mounts the dickey — 
 That gentleman of lords and gentlemen; 
 
 Also my lady's gentlewoman, tricky, 
 
 Trick'd out, but modest more than poet's pen 
 
 Can paint, " Cosi viaggino i Ricchi!" 
 (Excuse a foreign slipslop now and then. 
 
 If but to show I've travell'd; and what's travel. 
 
 Unless it teaches one to quote and cavil?) 
 
CANTO XIII. DON JUAN. 227 
 
 XL VIII. 
 
 The London winter and the country summer 
 Were well nigh over. 'Tis perhaps a pity^ 
 
 When Nature wears the gown that doth hecome her,, 
 To lose those best months in a sweaty city. 
 
 And wait until the nightingale grows dumber. 
 Listening debates not very wise or witty. 
 
 Ere patriots their true country can remember; — 
 
 But there's no shooting (save grouse) till September. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 I've done with my tirade. The world was gone; 
 
 The twice two thousand, for whom earth was made. 
 Were vanish'd to be what they caU alone — 
 
 That is, with thirty servants for parade. 
 As many guests, or more; before whom groan 
 
 As many covers, duly, daily laid. 
 Let none accuse old England's hospitality — 
 Its quantity is but condensed to quality. 
 
 L. 
 
 Lord Henry and the Lady Adeline 
 
 Departed like the rest of their compeers. 
 
 The peerage, to a mansion very fine; 
 The Gothic Babel of a thousand years. 
 
 None than themselves could boast a longer line, [steers; 
 ^VTiere time through heroes and through beauties 
 
 And oaks as olden as their pedigree 
 
 Told of their sires, a t6mb in every tree. 
 
 Q 2 
 
228 DON JUAN. CANTO xiii. 
 
 LI. 
 
 A paragraph in every paper told 
 
 Of their departure: such is modern fame: 
 
 'Tis pity that it takes no farther hold 
 
 Than an advertisement;, or much the same; 
 
 When ere the ink be dry, the sound grows cold. 
 The Morning Post was foremost to proclaim — 
 
 "Departure, for his country seat, to-day. 
 
 Lord H. AmundeviUe and Lady A. 
 
 LII. 
 
 "We understand the splendid host intends 
 
 To entertain, this autumn, a select 
 And numerous party of his noble friends; [rect. 
 
 Midst whom we have heard, from sources quite cor- 
 The Duke of D — the shooting season spends. 
 
 With many more by rank and fashion deck'd; 
 Also a foreigner of high condition. 
 The envoy of the secret Russian mission." 
 
 And thus we see— who doubts the Morning Post? 
 
 (Whose articles are like the "Thirty-nine," 
 Which those most swear to who believe them most) — 
 
 Our gay Russ Spaniard was ordain'd to shine, 
 Deck'd by the rays reflected from his host. 
 
 With those who. Pope says, "greatly daring dine." 
 'Tis odd, but true, — last war the News abounded 
 More with these dinners than the kill'd or wounded; — 
 
CANTO xiir. DON JUAN. 229 
 
 LIV. 
 
 As thus: ''On Thursday there was a grand dinner; 
 
 Present, Lords A. B. C." — Earls, dukes, by name 
 Announced with no less pomp than victory's winner: 
 
 Then underneath, and in the very same 
 Column : date, " Falmouth. There has lately been here 
 
 The Slap-dash regiment, so well known to fame; 
 Whose loss in the late action we regret: 
 The vacancies are fill'd up — see Gazette." 
 
 LV. 
 
 To Norman Abbey whirl'd the noble pair, — 
 
 An old, old monastery once, and now 
 Still older mansion, of a rich and rare 
 
 Mix'd Gothic, such as artists all allow 
 Few specimens yet left us can compare 
 
 Withal: it lies perhaps a little low, 
 Because the monks preferr'd a hill behind. 
 To shelter their devotion from the wind. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 It stood embosom'd in a happy valley. 
 
 Crown d by high woodlands, where the Druid oak 
 Stood like Caractacus in act to rally 
 
 His host, with broad arms 'gainst the thunder-stroke; 
 And from beneath his boughs were seen to sally 
 
 The dappled foresters — as day awoke. 
 The branching stag swept down with aU his herd, 
 To quaflP a brook which murmur'd like a bird. 
 
230 DON JUAN. 
 
 CANTO XIII. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 Before the mansion lay a lucid lake. 
 
 Broad as transparent, deep, and freshly fed 
 
 By a river, which its soften'd way did take 
 
 In currents through the calmer water spread ' - 
 
 Around: the wild fowl nestled in the hrake 
 And sedges, brooding in their liquid bed: 
 
 The woods sloped downwards to its brink, and stood 
 
 With their green faces fix'd upon the flood. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 Its outlet dash'd into a deep cascade. 
 
 Sparkling with foam, until again subsiding, 
 
 Its shriller echoes — like an infant made 
 Quiet — sank into softer ripples, ghding 
 
 Into a rivulet; and thus allay' d. 
 
 Pursued its course, now gleaming, and now hiding 
 
 Its windings through the woods; now clear, now blue, 
 
 According as the skies their shadows threw. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 A glorious remnant of the Gothic pile 
 
 (While yet the church was Rome's) stood half apart 
 In a grand arch, which once screen'd many an aisle. 
 
 These last had disappear'd— a loss to art: 
 The first yet frown'd superbly o'er the soil. 
 
 And kindled feelings in the roughest heart, 
 Whichmourn'd the power of time's or tempest's march. 
 In gazing on that venerable arch. 
 
CANTO XIII. DON JUAN. 231 
 
 LX. 
 
 Within a niche, nigh to its pinnacle, 
 
 Twelve saints had once stood sanctified in stone; 
 But these had fallen, not when the friars fell. 
 
 But in the war which struck Charles from his throne. 
 When each house was a fortalice — as tell 
 
 The annals of full many a line undone, — 
 The gallant cavaliers, who fought in vain \ 
 
 For those who knew not to resign or reign. 1 | 
 
 LXI. 
 
 But in a higher niche, alone, but crown'd. 
 The Virgin Mother of the God-born Child, 
 
 With her Son in her bless'd arms, look'd round. 
 Spared by some chance when all beside was spoil'd ; 
 
 She made the earth below seem holy ground. 
 This may be superstition, weak or wild. 
 
 But even the faintest relics of a shrine 
 
 Of any worship wake some thoughts divine. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 A mighty window, hollow in the centre. 
 Shorn of its glass of thousand colourings. 
 
 Through v/hich the deepen'd glories once could enter. 
 Streaming from off the sun like seraph's wings. 
 
 Now yawns all desolate : now loud, now fainter. 
 The gale sweeps through its fretwork, and oft sings 
 
 The owl his anthem, where the silenced quire 
 
 Lie with their hallelujahs quench'd like fire. 
 
232 DON JUAN. canto xiii. 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 But in the noontide of the moon^ and when 
 The wind is winged from one point of heaven. 
 
 There moans a strange unearthly sound, which then 
 Is musical — a dying accent driven 
 
 Through the huge arch, which soars and sinks again. 
 Some deem it but the distant echo given 
 
 Back to the night wind by the waterfall. 
 
 And harmonized by the old choral wall: 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 Others, that some original shape, or form 
 
 Shaped by decay perchance, hath given the power 
 
 (Though less than that of Memnon's statue, warm 
 In Egypt's rays, to harp at a fix'd hour) 
 
 To this gray ruin, with a voice to charm. 
 Sad, but serene, it sweeps o'er tree or tower: 
 
 The cause I know not, nor can solve; but such 
 
 The fact : — I 've heard it, — once perhaps too much. 
 
 Amidst the court a Gothic fountain play'd, 
 
 Symmetrical, but deck'd with carvings quaint — 
 
 Strange faces, Uke to men in masquerade. 
 And here perhaps a monster, there a saint: [made. 
 
 The spring gush'd through grim mouths, of granite 
 And sparkled into basins, where it spent 
 
 Its Httle torrent in a thousand bubbles. 
 
 Like man's vain glory, and his vainer troubles. 
 
CANTO xiif. DON JUAN. 233 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 The mansion's self was vast and venerable. 
 With more of the monastic than has been 
 
 Elsewhere preserved : the cloisters still were stable^ 
 The cells too, and refectory, I ween : 
 
 An exquisite small chapel had been able, 
 StiU unimpair'd, to decorate the scene; 
 
 The rest had been reform'd, replaced, or sunk. 
 
 And spoke more of the baron than the monk. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 Huge halls, long galleries, spacious chambers, join'd 
 By no quite lawful marriage of the arts. 
 
 Might shock a connoisseur; but when combined, 
 Form'd a whole which, irregular in parts. 
 
 Yet left a grand impression on the mind. 
 
 At least of those whose eyes are in their hearts. 
 
 We gaze upon a giant for his stature, 
 
 Nor judge at first if all be true to nature. 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 Steel barons, molten the next generation 
 To silken rows of gay and garter'd earls. 
 
 Glanced from the walls in goodly preservation : 
 And Lady Marys blooming into girls. 
 
 With fair long locks, had also kept their station : 
 And countesses mature in robes and pearls: 
 
 Also some beauties of Sir Peter Lely, 
 
 Whose drapery hints we may admire them freely. 
 
234 DON JUAN. 
 
 CANTO XIII, 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 Judges in very formidable ermine 
 
 Were there^ with brows that did not much invite 
 The accused to think their lordships would determine 
 
 His cause by leaning much from might to right: 
 Bishops, who had not left a single sermon: 
 
 Attorneys-general, awful to the sight. 
 As hinting more (unless our judgments warp us) 
 Of the "Star Chamber" than of "Habeas Corpus." 
 
 LSX. 
 
 Generals, some all in armour, of the old 
 And iron time, ere lead had ta'en the lead; 
 
 Others in wigs of Marlborough's martial fold, 
 Huger than twelve of our degenerate breed: 
 
 Lordhngs, with staves of white or keys of gold: 
 Nimrods, whose canvas scarce contain'd the steed; 
 
 And here and there some stern high patriot stood. 
 
 Who could not get the place for which he sued. 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 But ever and anon, to soothe your vision. 
 Fatigued with these hereditary glories. 
 
 There rose a Carlo Dolce or a Titian, 
 Or wilder group of savage Salvatore's: (*> 
 
 Here danced Albano's boys, and here the sea shone 
 In Vernet's ocean lights; and there the stories 
 
 Of martyrs awed, as Spagnoletto tainted 
 
 His brush with all the blood of all the sainted. 
 
CANTO XIII. DON JUAN. 235 
 
 Here sweetly spread a landscape of Loraine; 
 
 There Rembrandt made his darkness equal light. 
 Or gloomy Caravaggio's gloomier stain 
 
 Bronzed o'er some lean and stoic anchorite:— 
 But lo ! a Teniers woos, and not in vain. 
 
 Your eyes to revel in a livelier sight: 
 His bell-mouth'd goblet makes me feel quiteDanish (s) 
 Or Dutch vs^ith thirst — What ho ! a flask of Rhenish. 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 reader! if that thou canst read, — and know, 
 'Tis not enough to spell, or even to read. 
 
 To constitute a reader; there must go 
 
 Virtues of which both you and I have need. 
 
 Firstly, begin with the beginning — (though 
 That clause is hard) ; and secondly, proceed; 
 
 Thirdly, commence not with the end — or, sinning 
 
 In this sort, end at least with the beginning. 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 But, reader, thou hast patient been of late. 
 While I, without remorse of rhyme, or fear. 
 
 Have built and laid out ground at such a rate, 
 Dan Phoebus takes me for an auctioneer. 
 
 That poets were so from their earliest date. 
 By Homer's "Catalogue of ships" is clear; 
 
 But a mere modern must be moderate — 
 
 1 spare you then the furniture and plate. 
 
236 DON JUAN. CANTO XIII. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 The mellow autumn came^ and with it came 
 The promised party, to enjoy its sweets. 
 
 The corn is cut, the manor full of game; 
 The pointer ranges, and the sportsman beats 
 
 In russet jacket: — ^lynx-like is his aim. 
 
 Full grows his bag, and -wonderful his feats. 
 
 Ah nutbrown partridges! Ah brilUant pheasants! 
 
 And ah, ye poachers! — 'Tis no sport for peasants. 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 An English autumn, though it hath no vines. 
 Blushing with Bacchant coronals along 
 
 The paths, o'er which the far festoon entwines 
 The red grape in the sunny lands of song, 
 
 Hath yet a purchased choice of choicest wines; 
 The claret light, and the Madeira strong. 
 
 If Britain mourn her bleakness, we can tell her, 
 
 The very best of vineyards is the cellar. 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 Then, if she hath not that serene decUne 
 
 Which makes the southern autumn's day appear 
 
 As if 'twould to a second spring resign 
 The season, rather than to winter drear,— 
 
 Of in-door comforts still she hath a mine,— 
 The sea-coal fires, the earliest of the year; 
 
 "Without doors too she may compete in mellowj 
 
 As what is lost in green is gain'd in yellow. 
 
CANTO XIII. DON JUAN. 237 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 And for the eflPeminate villeggiatura — [^chase. 
 
 Rife with more horns than hounds — she hath the 
 
 So animated that it might allure a 
 
 Saint from his beads to join the jocund race; 
 
 Even Nimrod's self might leave the plains of Dura,(6) 
 And wear the Melton jacket for a space: 
 
 If she hath no wild boars^ she hath a tame 
 
 Preserve of bores, who ought to be made game. 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 The noble guests, assembled at the Abbey, 
 Consisted of— we give the sex the pas — 
 
 The Duchess of Fitz-Fulke; the Countess Crabby; 
 The ladies Scilly, Busey; — Miss Eclat, 
 
 Miss Bombazeen, Miss Mackstay, Miss O'Tabby, 
 And Mrs. Rabbi, the rich banker's squaw; 
 
 Also the honourable Mrs. Sleep, 
 
 Who look'd a white lamb, yet was a black sheep : 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 "With other Countesses of Blank — but rank; 
 
 At once the "lie" and the "elite" of crowds; 
 Who pass Hke water filter'd in a tank. 
 
 All purged and pious from their native clouds; 
 Or paper turn'd to money by the Bank: 
 
 No matter how or why, the passport shrouds 
 The "passee" and the past; for good society 
 Is no less famed for tolerance than piety, — 
 
238 DON JUAN. canto xiii. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 That is, up to a certain point; which point 
 Forms the most difficult in punctuation. 
 
 Appearances appear to form the joint 
 On which it hinges in a higher station; 
 
 And so that no explosion cry "^ Aroint 
 
 Thee, witch!" or each Medea has her Jason; 
 
 Or (to the point with Horace and with Pulci) 
 
 " Omne tulit punctum, quae miscuit utile dulci." 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 I can't exactly trace their rule of right. 
 Which hath a little leaning to a lottery. 
 
 I've seen a virtuous woman put down quite 
 By the mere combination of a coterie; 
 
 Also a so-so matron boldly fight 
 
 Her way back to the world by dint of plottery. 
 
 And shine the very Stria of the spheres. 
 
 Escaping with a few slight, scarless sneers. 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 I have seen more than I'U say: — but we will see 
 
 How our villeggiatura will get on. 
 The party might consist of thirty-three 
 
 Of highest caste — the Brahmins of the ton. 
 I have named a few, not foremost in degree,. 
 
 But ta'en at hazard as the rhyme may run. 
 By way of sprinkling, scatter'd amongst these 
 There also were some Irish absentees, 
 
CANTO xiir. DON JUAN. 239 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 There was ParoUes too^ the legal buUy^ 
 
 Who limits all his battles to the bar 
 And senate: when invited elsewhere^ truly. 
 
 He shows more appetite for words than war. 
 There was the young bard Rackrhyme, who had newly 
 
 Come out and glimmer'd as a six weeks' star. 
 There was Lord Pyrrho too, the great freethinker; 
 And Sir John Pottledeep, the mighty drinker. 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 There was the Duke of Dash, who was a — duke, 
 "Ay, every inch a" duke; there were twelve peers 
 
 Like Charlemagne's — and aU such peers in look 
 And intellect, that neither eyes nor ears 
 
 For commoners had ever them mistook. 
 
 There were the six Miss Rawbolds — pretty dears ! 
 
 All song and sentiment; whose hearts were set 
 
 Less on a convent than a coronet, 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 There were four Honourable Misters, whose 
 Honour was more before their names than after; 
 
 There was the preux Chevalier de la Ruse, 
 
 Whom France and For tune lately deign'd to waft here. 
 
 Whose chiefly harmless talent was to amuse; 
 But the clubs found it rather serious laughter. 
 
 Because — such was his magic power to please — 
 
 The dice seem'd charm'd too with his repartees. 
 
240 DON JUAN. CANTO XIII. 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 There was Dick Dubious, the metaphysician. 
 Who loved philosophy and a good dinner; 
 
 Angle, the soi-disant mathematician; 
 
 Sir Henry Silvercup, the great race- winner. 
 
 There was the Reverend Rodomont Precisian, 
 Who did not hate so much the sin as sinner; 
 
 And Lord Augustus Fitz-Plantagenet, 
 
 Good at all things, but better at a bet. 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 There was Jack Jargon, the gigantic guardsman; 
 
 And General Fireface, famous in the field, 
 A great tactician, and no less a swordsman, 
 
 Who ate, last war, more Yankees than he kill'd. 
 There was the waggish Welsh Judge, Jefferies Hards- 
 
 In his grave office so completely skiU'd, [^raan, 
 
 That when a culprit came for condemnation. 
 He had his judge's joke for consolation. 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 Good company's a chess-board — there are kings. 
 Queens, bishops, knights, rooks, pawns; the world's 
 a game; 
 
 Save that the puppets pull at their own strings, 
 Methinks gay Punch hath something of the same. 
 
 My Muse, the butterfly hath but her wings. 
 Not stings, and flits through ether without aim. 
 
 Alighting rarely: — were she but a hornet. 
 
 Perhaps there might be vices which would mourn it. 
 
CANTO XIII. DON JUAN. 241 
 
 xc. 
 I had forgotten — but must not forget — 
 
 An orator, the latest of the session. 
 Who had deliver'd well a very set 
 
 Smooth speech, his first and maidenly transgression 
 Upon debate: the papers echoed yet 
 
 With his debut, which made a strong impression, 
 And rank'd with what is every day display'd — 
 "The best first speech that ever yet was made." 
 
 xci. 
 Proud of his "Hear hims!" proud too of his vote 
 
 And lost virginity of oratory. 
 Proud of his learning (just enough to quote). 
 
 He revell'd in his Ciceronian glory : 
 With memory excellent to get by rote. 
 
 With wit to hatch a pun or tell a story. 
 Graced with some merit, and with more effrontery, 
 "His country's pride," he came down to the country. 
 
 XCII. 
 
 There also were two wits by acclamation, 
 Longbow from Ireland, Strongbow from the Tweed, 
 
 Both lawyers and both men of education; 
 But Strongbow's wit was of more polish'd breed : 
 
 Longbow was rich in an imagination 
 As beautiful and bounding as a steed. 
 
 But sometimes stumbUng over a potato, — []Cato. 
 
 While Strongbow's best things might have come from 
 
 VOL. II. R 
 
242 iDON JUAN. 
 
 CANTO XIII. 
 
 Strongbow was like a new-tuned harpsichord; 
 
 But Longbow wild as an ^olian harp. 
 With which the winds of heaven can claim accord. 
 
 And make a music;, whether flat or sharp. 
 Of Strongbow's talk you would not change a word: 
 
 At Longbow's phrases you might sometimes carp : 
 Both wits^one born so, and the other bred. 
 This by his heart — his rival by his head. 
 
 xciv. 
 If aU these seem an heterogeneous mass 
 
 To be assembled at a country seat. 
 Yet think, a specimen of every class 
 
 Is better than a humdrum tete-a-tete. 
 The days of Comedy are gone, alas ! 
 
 When Congreve's fool could vie with Moliere's bete : 
 Society is sraooth'd to that excess. 
 That manners hardly differ more than dress. 
 
 xcv. 
 Our ridicules are kept in the back-ground — 
 
 Ridiculous enough, but also dull; 
 Professions too are no more to be found 
 
 Professional; and there is nought to cuU 
 Of folly's fruit: for though your fools abound. 
 
 They're barren, and not worth the pains to pull. 
 Society is now one polish'd horde, 
 Form'd of two mighty tribes, the Bares and Boiled. 
 
CANTO XIII. DON JUAN. 243 
 
 XCVI. 
 
 But from being farmers^ we turn gleaners^ gleaning 
 The scanty but right- well thresh'd ears of truth; 
 
 Andj gentle reader! when you gather meanings 
 You may be Boaz, and I — modest Ruth. 
 
 Farther I'd quote^ but Scripture intervening 
 Forbids. A great impression in my youth 
 
 Was made by Mrs. Adams, where she cries 
 
 "That Scriptures out of church are blasphemies." (7) 
 
 XCVII. 
 
 But what we can we glean in this vile age 
 Of chaff, although our gleanings be not grist. 
 
 I must not quite omit the talking sage, 
 Kit-Catj the famous conversationist. 
 
 Who, in his common-place-book, had a page 
 
 Prepared each morn for evenings. " List, oh list !' — 
 
 "Alas, poor ghost!" — What unexpected woes 
 
 Await those who have studied their bons-mots ! 
 
 XCVIII. 
 
 Firstly, they must allure the conversation 
 By many windings to their clever clinch; 
 
 And secondly, must let slip no occasion. 
 Nor bate (abate) their hearers of an inch, 
 
 But take an ell — and make a great sensation. 
 If possible; and thirdly, never flinch 
 
 When some smart talker puts them to the test, I 
 
 But seize the last word, which no doubt's the best | 
 
 R 2 
 
244 DON JUAN. CANTO XIII. 
 
 XCIX. 
 
 Lord Henry and his lady were the hosts; 
 
 The party we have touch'd on were the guests! 
 Their table was a board to tempt even ghosts 
 
 To pass the Styx for more substantial feasts. 
 I wiU not dwell upon ragouts or roasts. 
 
 Albeit all human history attests. 
 That happiness for man — the hungry sinner! — 
 Since Eve ate apples, much depends on dinner. 
 
 c. 
 
 Witness the lands which '"^flow'dwith milk and honey," 
 
 Held out unto the hungry Israelites : 
 To this we have added since, the love of money. 
 
 The only sort of pleasure which requites. 
 Youth fades, and leaves our days no longer sunny; 
 
 We tire of mistresses and parasites; 
 But oh, ambrosial cash! Ah! who would lose thee? 
 Wlien we no more can use, or even abuse thee ! 
 
 CI. 
 
 The gentlemen got up betimes to shoot. 
 
 Or hunt: the young, because they liked the sport — 
 The first thing boys hke, after play and fruit; 
 
 The middle-aged, to make the day more short; 
 For ennui is a growth of English root. 
 
 Though nameless in our language: — we retort 
 The fact for words, and let the French translate 
 That awful yawn which sleep can not abate. 
 
CANTO XIII. DON JUAN. 245 
 
 CII. 
 
 The elderly walk'd through the library. 
 And tumbled books, or criticised the pictures, 
 
 Or saunter'd through the gardens piteously. 
 
 And made upon the hot-house several strictures, 
 
 Or rode a nag which trotted not too high, 
 Or on the morning papers read their lectures. 
 
 Or on the watch their longing eyes would fix, I 
 
 Longing at sixty for the hour of six. [ 
 
 CHI. 
 
 But none were ''gene:" the great hour of union 
 Was rung by dinner's kneU; till then all were 
 
 Masters of their own time — or in communion. 
 Or solitary, as they chose to bear 
 
 The hours, which how to pass is but to few knowii. 
 Each rose up at his own, and had to spare 
 
 What time he chose for dress, and broke his fast 
 
 When, where, and how he chose for that repast. 
 
 CIV. 
 
 The ladies — some rouged, some a little pale — 
 Met the morn as they might. If fine, they rode. 
 
 Or walk'd ; if foul, they read, or told a tale. 
 Sung, or rehearsed the last dance from abroad; 
 
 Discuss'd the fashion which might next prevail. 
 And settled bonnets by the newest code. 
 
 Or cramm'd twelve sheets into one little letter. 
 
 To make each correspondent a new debtor. 
 
246 DON JUAN. canto xiir. 
 
 cv. 
 For some had absent lovers^ all had friends. 
 
 The earth has nothing like a she epistle. 
 And hardly heaven — because it never ends. 
 
 I love the mystery of a female missal, 
 ^^'^hich, like a creed, ne'er says all it intends. 
 
 But full of cunning as Ulysses' whistle. 
 When he allured poor Dolon : — you had better 
 Take care what you reply to such a letter. 
 
 cvi. 
 Then there were billiards; cards too, but no dice; — 
 
 Save in the clubs no man of honour plays; — 
 Boats when 'twas water, skaiting when 'twas ice. 
 
 And the hard frost destroy'd the scenting days: 
 And angling too, that solitary vice. 
 
 Whatever Isaac Walton sings or says : 
 The quaint, old, cruel coxcomb, in his gullet 
 Should have a hook, and a small trout to pull it. (s) 
 
 CTII. 
 
 With evening came the banquet and the wine; 
 
 The conversazione; the duet. 
 Attuned by voices more or less divine 
 
 (My heart or head aches with the memory yet). 
 The four Miss Rawbolds in a glee would shine; 
 
 But the two youngest loved more to be set 
 Down to the harp — because to music's charms 
 They added graceful necks, white hands and arms. 
 
CANTO XIII. DON JUAN. 247 
 
 CVIII. 
 
 Sometimes a dance (though rarely on field days. 
 For then the gentlemen were rather tired) 
 
 Display'd some sylph -like figures in its maze; 
 Then there was small-talk ready when required; 
 
 Flirtation — hut decorous; the mere praise 
 
 Of charms that should or should not be admired. 
 
 The hunters fought their fox-hunt o'er again, 
 
 And then retreated soberly— at ten. 
 
 cix. 
 The politicians, in a nook apart, 
 
 Discuss'd the world, and settled all the spheres; 
 The wits watch'd every loop-hole for their art. 
 
 To introduce a bon-mot head and ears: 
 Small is the rest of those who would be smart, 
 
 A moment's good thing may have cost them years 
 Before they find an hour to introduce it. 
 And then, even then, some bore may make them lose it. 
 
 ex. 
 But aU was gentle and aristocratic 
 
 In this our party; polish'd, smooth, and cold. 
 As Phidian forms cut out of marble Attic. 
 
 There now are no Squire Westerns as of old; 
 And our Sophias are not so emphatic. 
 
 But fair as then, or fairer to behold. 
 We have no accomplish'd blackguards, like Tom Jones, 
 But gentlemen in stays, as stiff as stones. 
 
248 DON JUAN. canto xiii. 
 
 CXI. 
 
 They separated at an early hour ; 
 
 That is, ere midnight — which is London's noon : 
 But in the country ladies seek their hower 
 
 A little earlier than the waning moon. 
 Peace to the slumbers of each folded flower — 
 
 May the rose call back its true colours soon ! 
 Good hours of fair cheeks are the fairest tinters, 
 And lower the price of rouge — at least some winters. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO XIII. 
 
 Note 1, page 213, stanza vii. 
 
 Rough Johnson, the great moralist, profess'd. 
 Right honestly, " he liked an honest hater .'" 
 
 " Sir, I like a good hater." — See the Life of Dr. Johnson, &c. 
 
 Note 2, page 219, stanza xxvi. 
 Also there hin another pious reason. 
 " With every thing that pretty 6m, 
 My lady sweet, arise." — Shakspeare. 
 
 Note 3, page 226, stanza xlv. 
 
 They and their hills, " Arcadians both." 
 
 " Arcades ambo." 
 
 Note 4, page 234, stanza Ixxi. 
 
 Or wilder group of savage Salvatore's. 
 
 Salvator Rosa. 
 
 Note 5, page 235, stanza Ixxii. 
 His bell-mouth'd goblet makes me feel quite Danish. 
 If I err not, " Your Dane" is one of lago's catalogue of na- 
 tions " exquisite in their drinking." 
 
 Note 6, page 237, stanza Ixxviii. 
 
 Even Nimrod's self might leave the plains of Dura. 
 
 In Assyria. 
 
250 NOTES TO CANTO XIIL 
 
 Note 7. page 243, stanza xcvi. 
 
 " That Scriptures out of church are blasphemies." 
 
 " Mrs. Adams answered Mr. Adams, that it was blasphemous 
 
 to talk of Scripture out of church." This dogma was broached 
 
 to her husband— the best Christian in any book. See Joseph 
 
 Andrews, in the latter chapters. 
 
 Note 8, page 246, stanza cvi. 
 
 And angling too, that solitary vice. 
 
 Whatever Isaac Walton sings or saps : 
 The quaint, old, cruel coj:com.b, in his gullet 
 Should have a hook, and a small trout Xo pull it. 
 
 It would have taught him humanity at least. This senti- 
 mental savage, whom it is a mode to quote (amongst the no- 
 velists) to show their sympathy for innocent sports and old songs, 
 teaches how to sew up frogs, and break their legs by way of ex- 
 periment, in addition to the art of angling, the cruellest, the 
 coldest, and the stupidest of pretended sports. They may talk 
 about the beauties of nature, but the angler merely thinks of his 
 dish of fish ; he has no leisure to take his eyes from off the 
 streams, and a single bite is worth to him more than all the 
 scenery around. Besides, some fish bite best on a rainy day. 
 The whale, the shark, and the tunny fishery have somewhat of 
 noble and perilous in them ; even net fishing, trawling, &:c. are 
 more humane and useful. But angling .' — No angler can be a good 
 man. 
 
 "One of the best men I ever knew, — as humane, delicate- 
 minded, generous, and excellent a creature as any in the world, 
 was an angler: true, he angled with painted flies, and would 
 have been incapable of the extravagances of I. Walton." 
 
 The above addition was made by a friend in reading over the 
 MS. — "Audi alteram partem"— I leave it to counterbalance my 
 own observation. 
 
DON JUAN. 
 
 TANTO XIV. 
 
 T. 
 
 If from great Nature's or our own abyss 
 Of thought we could but snatch a certainty. 
 
 Perhaps mankind might find the path they miss — 
 But then 'twould spoil much good philosophy. 
 
 One system eats another up, and this 
 Much as old Saturn ate his progeny; 
 
 For when his pious consort gave him stones 
 
 In lieu of sons, of these he made no bones. 
 
 II. 
 But System doth reverse the Titan's breakfast. 
 
 And eats her parents, albeit the digestion 
 Is difficult. Pray tell me, can you make fast. 
 
 After due search, your faith to any question.'' 
 Look back o'er ages, ere unto the stake fast 
 
 You bind yourself, and caU some mode the best one. 
 Nothing more true than not to trust your senses; [ 
 And yet what are your other evidences? ) 
 
252 DON JUAN. CANTO xiv. 
 
 III. 
 For me, I know nought; nothing I deny. 
 
 Admit, reject, contemn; and what know you, 
 Except perhaps that you were born to die? 
 
 And both may after all turn out untrue. 
 An age may come. Font of Eternity, 
 
 When nothing shall be either old or new. 
 Death, so call'd, is a thing which makes men weep. 
 And yet a third of life is pass'd in sleep. 
 
 IV. 
 
 A sleep without dreams, after a rough day 
 Of toil, is what we covet most; and yet 
 
 How clay shrinks back from more quiescent clay ! 
 The very Suicide that pays his debt 
 
 At once without instalments (an old way 
 Of paying debts, which creditors regret) 
 
 Lets out impatiently his rushing breath. 
 
 Less from disgust of life than dread of death. 
 
 V. 
 
 'Tis round him, near him, here, there, every where; 
 
 And there's a com-age which grows out of fear. 
 Perhaps of all most desperate, which will dare 
 
 The worst to know it: — when the mountains rear 
 Their peaks beneath your human foot, and there 
 
 You look down o'er the precipice, and drear 
 The gulf of rock yawns, — you can't gaze a minute 
 "Without an awful wish to plunge within it. 
 
CANTO XIV. DON JUAN. 253 
 
 VI. 
 
 'Tis true^ you don't — but, pale and struck with terror. 
 Retire: but look into your past impression! 
 
 And you wiU find, though shuddering at the mirror 
 Of your own thoughts, in aU their self-confession. 
 
 The lurking bias, be it truth or error. 
 
 To the unknown; a secret prepossession, [not. 
 
 To plunge with all your fears — but where? You know 
 
 And that's the reason why you do — or do not. 
 
 VII. 
 
 But what's this to the purpose ? you will say. 
 
 Gent, reader, nothing; a mere speculation. 
 For which my sole excuse is — ^"tis my way. 
 
 Sometimes with and sometimes without occasion 
 I write what's uppermost, without delay; 
 
 This narrative is not meant for narration. 
 But a mere airy and fantastic basis, 
 To build up common things with common places. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 You know, or don't know, that great Bacon saith, 
 '^ Fling up a straw, 'twill show the way the wind 
 
 And such a straw, borne on by human breath, [blows;" 
 Is poesy, according as the mind glows; 
 
 A paper kite which flies 'twixt hfe and death, 
 A shadow which the onward soul behind throws: 
 
 And mine's a bubble, not blown up for praise. 
 
 But just to play with, as an infant plays. 
 
254 DON JUAN, canto xiv. 
 
 IX. 
 
 The world is all before me — or behind ; 
 
 For I have seen a portion of that same. 
 And quite enough for me to keep in mind; — 
 
 Of passions, too, I have proved enough to blame. 
 To the great pleasure of our friends, mankind. 
 
 Who like to mix some slight alloy with fame; 
 For I was rather famous in my time. 
 Until I fairly knock'd it up with rhyme. 
 
 X. 
 
 I have brought this world about my ears, and eke 
 The other; that's to say, the clergy — who 
 
 Upon my head have bid their thunders break 
 In pious hbels by no means a few. 
 
 And yet I can't help scribbling once a week. 
 Tiring old readers, nor discovering new. 
 
 In youth I wrote because my mind was fuU, 
 
 And now because I feel it growing dull. 
 
 XI. 
 
 But "why then pubUsh.^" — There are no rewards 
 Of fame or profit when the world grows weary. 
 
 I ask in turn, — Why do you play at cards? [dreary. 
 Why drink? Why read? — To make some hour less 
 
 It occupies me to turn back regards 
 
 On what I've seen or ponder' d, sad or cheery; 
 
 And what I write I cast upon the stream. 
 
 To swim or sink — I have had at least my dream, 
 
CANTO XIV. DON JUAN. 255 
 
 XII. 
 
 I think that were I certain of success, 
 
 I hardly could compose another line: 
 So long I've battled either more or less. 
 
 That no defeat can drive me from the Nine. 
 This feeling 'tis not easy to express. 
 
 And yet 'tis not aflPected, I opine. 
 In play, there are two pleasures for your choosing — 
 The one is winning, and the other losing. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Besides, my Muse by no means deals in fiction : 
 
 She gathers a repertory of facts. 
 Of course with some reserve and sUght restriction. 
 
 But mostly sings of human things and acts — 
 And that's one cause she meets with contradiction; 
 
 For too much truth, at first sight, ne'er attracts; 
 And were her object only what's call'd glory. 
 With more ease too she'd tell a different story. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Love, war, a tempest — surely there's variety; 
 
 Also a seasoning slight of lucubration ; 
 A bird's eye view too of that wild. Society; 
 
 A slight glance thrown on men of every station. 
 If you have nought else, here's at least satiety 
 
 Both in performance and in preparation; 
 And though these Unes should only line portmanteaus. 
 Trade will be all the better for these Cantos. 
 
256 DON JUAN. canto xiv. 
 
 XV. 
 
 The portion of this world which I at present 
 Have taken up to fill the following sermon, 
 
 Is one of which there's no description recent: 
 The reason why, is easy to determine: 
 
 Although it seems both prominent and pleasant. 
 There is a sameness in its gems and ermine, 
 
 A duU and family likeness through all ages. 
 
 Of no great promise for poetic pages. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 With much to excite, there's Httle to exalt; 
 
 Nothing that speaks to aU men and all times; 
 A sort of varnish over every fault; 
 
 A kind of common-place, even in their crimes; 
 Factitious passions, wit without much salt, 
 
 A want of that true nature which subhmes 
 Whate'er it shows with truth; a smooth monotony 
 Of character, in those at least who have got any. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Sometimes indeed, like soldiers ofi" parade. 
 
 They break their ranks and gladly leave the drill; 
 
 But then the roll-call draws them back afraid; 
 And they must be or seem what they were: stiU 
 
 Doubtless it is a brilliant masquerade; 
 But when of the first sight you have had your fill. 
 
 It paUs — at least it did so upon me. 
 
 This paradise of pleasure and ennui. 
 
CANTO XIV. DON JUAN. 257 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 When we have made our love, and gamed our gaming, 
 Drest, voted, shone, and, may be, something more; 
 
 With dandies dinedj heard senators declaiming; 
 Seen beauties brought to market by the score. 
 
 Sad rakes to sadder husbands chastely taming; 
 There's little left but to be bored or bore. 
 
 Witness those " ci-devant jeunes hommes" who stem 
 
 The stream, nor leave the world which leaveth them. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 'Tis said — indeed a general complaint — 
 That no one has succeeded in describing 
 
 The monde, exactly as they ought to paint: 
 Some say, that authors only snatch, by bribing 
 
 The porter, some slight scandals strange and quaint. 
 To furnish matter for their moral gibing; 
 
 And that their books have but one style in common — 
 
 My lady's prattle, filter d through her woman. 
 
 XX. 
 
 But this can't well be true, just now; for writers 
 Are grown of the beau monde a part potential : 
 
 I've seen them balance even the scale with fighters. 
 Especially when young, for that's essential. 
 
 Why do their sketches fail them as inditers 
 Of what they deem themselves most consequential. 
 
 The real portrait of the highest tribe? 
 
 'Tis that, in fact, there's little to describe. 
 
 VOL. II. s 
 
258 DON JUAN. ' CANTO XIV. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 " Haud ignara loquor;" these are Nugos, "quarum 
 Pars Tpar\a. fui," but still art and part. 
 
 Now I could much more easily sketch a harera^ 
 A battle, wreck, or history of the hearty 
 
 Than these things; and besides, I wish to spare 'em. 
 For reasons which I choose to keep apart. 
 
 " Velabo Cereris sacrum qui vulgaret" — 
 
 Which means, that vulgar people must not share it. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 And therefore what I throw off is ideal — 
 
 Lower' d, leaven' d, hke a history of freemasons; 
 
 Which bears the same relation to the real. 
 As Captain Parry's voyage may do to Jason's. 
 
 The grand arcanum's not for men to see all; 
 My music has some mystic diapasons ; 
 
 And there is much which could not be appreciated 
 
 In any manner by the uninitiated. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Alas ! worlds fall — and woman, since she fell'd 
 The world (as, since that history, less polite 
 
 Than true, hath been a creed so strictly held) 
 Has not yet given up the practice quite. 
 
 Poor thing of usages! coerced, compell'd. 
 
 Victim when wrong, and martyr oft when right, 
 
 Condemn'd to child-bed, as men for their sins 
 
 Have shaving too entail'd upon their chins, — 
 
CANTO XIV. DON JUAN. 259 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 A daily plague, which in the aggregate 
 
 May average on the whole with parturition. 
 
 But as to women, who can penetrate 
 
 The real sufferings of their she condition? 
 
 Man's very sympathy with their estate 
 
 Has much of selfishness, and more suspicion. 
 
 Their love, their virtue, heauty, education. 
 
 But form good housekeepers, to breed a nation. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 AU this were very well, and can't be better; 
 
 But even this is difficult. Heaven knows, 
 So many troubles from her birth beset her. 
 
 Such small distinction between friends and foes. 
 The gilding wears so soon from off her fetter. 
 
 That but ask any woman if she'd choose 
 
 (Take her at thirty, that is) to have been 
 Female or male.-* a schoolboy or a queen.?* 
 
 " Petticoat influence" is a great reproach. 
 Which even those who obey would fain be thought 
 
 To fly from, as from hungry pikes a roach; 
 But since beneath it upon earth we are brought, 
 
 By various joltings of life's hackney coach, 
 I for one venerate a petticoat — 
 
 A garment of a mystical sublimity. 
 
 No matter whether russet, silk, or dimity. 
 
 s 2 
 
260 DON JUAN. CANTO XIV. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Much I respectj and much I have adored^ 
 
 In my young days,, that chaste and goodly veil, 
 
 WTiich holds a treasure, like a miser's hoard, 
 And more attracts hy all it doth conceal — 
 
 A golden scabbard on a Damasque sword, 
 A loving letter with a mystic seal, 
 
 A cure for grief — for what can ever rankle 
 
 Before a petticoat and peeping ankle.'' 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 And when upon a silent, sullen day. 
 With a sirocco, for example, blowing. 
 
 When even the sea looks dim with all its spray. 
 And sulkily the river's ripple's flowing. 
 
 And the sky shows that very ancient gray. 
 The sober, sad antithesis to glowing, — 
 
 'Tis pleasant, if then any thing is pleasant. 
 
 To catch a gUmpse even of a pretty peasant, 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 We left our heroes and our heroines 
 
 In that fair clime which don't depend on climate. 
 Quite independent of the Zodiac's signs. 
 
 Though certainly more difficult to rhyme at. 
 Because the sun, and stars, and aught that shines. 
 
 Mountains, and all we can be most sublime at. 
 Are there oft dull and dreary as a dun — 
 Whether a sky's or tradesman's is aU one. 
 
CANTO XIV. DON JUAN. 261 
 
 XXX. 
 
 An in-door life is less poetical; 
 
 And out of door hath showers^ and mists^, and sleet. 
 With which I could not brew a pastoral. 
 
 But be it as it may, a bard must meet 
 All diflScultieSj whether great or small. 
 
 To spoil his undertaking or complete. 
 And work away like spirit upon matter, 
 Embarrass'd somewhat both with fire and water. 
 
 XXXI, 
 
 Juan — in this respect, at least, like saints — 
 Was all things unto people of all sorts. 
 
 And lived contentedly, without complaints. 
 In camps, in ships, in cottages, or courts — 
 
 Born with that happy soul which seldom faints. 
 And mingling modestly in toils or sports. 
 
 He likewise could be most things to all women. 
 
 Without the coxcombry of certain she men. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 A fox-hunt to a foreigner is strange; 
 
 'Tis also subject to the double danger 
 Of tumbling first, and having in exchange 
 
 Some pleasant jesting at the awkward stranger: 
 But Juan had been early taught to range 
 
 The wilds, as doth an Arab turn'd avenger. 
 So that his horse, or charger, hunter, hack. 
 Knew that he had a rider on his back. 
 
262 DON JUAN. canto xiv. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 And now in this new field, with some applause. 
 He clear'd hedge, ditch, and double post, and rail. 
 
 And never craned,W and made but few "faux pas," 
 And only fretted when the scent 'gan fail. 
 
 He broke, 'tis true, some statutes of the laws 
 Of hunting — for the sagest youth is frail; 
 
 Rode o'er the hounds, it inay be, now and then. 
 
 And once o'er several country gentlemen. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 But on the whole, to general admiration 
 
 He acquitted both himself and horse : the squires 
 
 Marvell'd at merit of another nation; [ — Sires, 
 
 The boors cried '^'^Dang it! who'd have thought it?" 
 
 The Nestors of the sporting generation. 
 
 Swore praises, and recall'd their former fires; 
 
 The huntsman's self relented to a grin. 
 
 And rated him almost a whipper-in. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Such were his trophies — not of spear and shield. 
 But leaps, and bursts, and sometimes foxes' brushes; 
 
 Yet I must own, — although in this I yield 
 To patriot sympathy a Briton's blushes, — 
 
 He thought at heart like courtly Chesterfield, 
 Who, after a long chase o'er hills, dales, bushes. 
 
 And what not, though he rode beyond aU price, 
 
 Ask'd next day, "If men ever hunted tieice?" 
 
CANTO XIV. DON JUAN. 263 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 He also had a quality uncommon 
 
 To early risers after a long chase, 
 Who wake in winter ere the cock can summon 
 
 December's drowsy day to his dull race, — 
 A quality agreeable to woman^, 
 
 When her soft, liquid words run on apace. 
 Who likes a listener, whether saint or sinner, — 
 He did not fall asleep just after dinner; 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 But, light and airy, stood on the alert. 
 And shone in the best part of dialogue. 
 
 By humouring always what they might assert^ 
 And listening to the topics most in vogue; 
 
 Now grave, now gay, but never dull or pert; 
 And smiling but in secret — cunning rogue! 
 
 He ne'er presumed to make an error clearer; — 
 
 In short, there never was a better hearer. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 And then he danced; — all foreigners excel 
 
 The serious Angles in the eloquence 
 Of pantomime;— he danced^ I say, right well. 
 
 With emphasis, and also with good sense — 
 A thing in footing indispensable : 
 
 He danced without theatrical pretence. 
 Not like a ballet-master in the van 
 Of his drill'd nymphs, but like a gentleman. 
 
264 DON JUAN. 
 
 CANTO XIV. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 Chaste were his steps, each kept within due hound, 
 And elegance was sprinkled o'er his figure; 
 
 Like swift Camilla, he scarce skimm'd the ground. 
 And rather held in than put forth his vigour; 
 
 And then he had an ear for music's sound. 
 Which might defy a crotchet critic's rigour. 
 
 Such classic pas — sans flaws — set off our hero. 
 
 He glanced like a personified Bolero; 
 
 XL. 
 
 Or, like a flying Hour before Aurora, 
 In Guido's famous fresco, which alone 
 
 Is worth a tour to Rome, although no more a 
 
 Remnant were there of the old world's sole throne. 
 
 The "tout ensemble" of his movements wore a 
 Grace of the soft ideal, seldom shown. 
 
 And ne'er to be described; for to the dolour 
 
 Of bards and prosers, words are void of colour. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 No marvel then he was a favourite; 
 
 A full-grown Cupid, very much admired; 
 A little spoilt, but by no means so quite; 
 
 At least he kept his vanity retired. 
 Such was his tact, he could aUke delight 
 
 The chaste, and those who are not so much inspired. 
 The Duchess of Fitz-Fulke, who loved "tracasserie," 
 Began to treat him with some small " agacerie." 
 
CANTO XI y. BON JUAN. 265 
 
 XLII. 
 
 She was a fine and somewhat full-blown blonde^ 
 
 Desirable, distinguish'd, celebrated 
 For several winters in the grand, grand monde. 
 
 I'd rather not say what might be related 
 Of her exploits, for this were ticklish ground; 
 
 Besides there might be falsehood in what's stated: 
 Her late performance had been a dead set 
 At Lord Augustus Fitz-Plantagenet. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 This noble personage began to look 
 A little black upon this new flirtation; 
 
 But such small licences must lovers brook^ 
 Mere freedoms of the female corporation. 
 
 ^Voe to the man who ventures a rebuke ! 
 'Twill but precipitate a situation 
 
 Extremely disagreeable, but common 
 
 To calculators when they count on woman. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 The circle smiled, then whisper' d, and then sneer'd ; 
 
 The Misses bridled, and the matrons frown'd ; 
 Some hoped things might not turn out as they fear'd ; 
 
 Some wotdd not deem such women could be found ; 
 Some ne'er believed one half of what they heard; 
 
 Some look'd perplex' d, and others look'd profound; 
 And several pitied with sincere regret 
 Poor Lord Augustus Fitz-Plantagenet. 
 
266 DON JUAN. canto xiv. 
 
 But what is odd, none ever named the duke, 
 
 ^Vho, one might think, was something in the aiFair: 
 
 True, he was absent, and 'twas rumour'd, took 
 But small concern about the when, or where. 
 
 Or what his consort did : if he could brook 
 Her gaieties, none had a right to stare: 
 
 Theirs was that best of unions, past all doubt. 
 
 Which never meets, and therefore can't fall out. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 But, oh ! that I should ever pen so sad a line ! 
 
 Fired with an abstract love of virtue, she. 
 My Dian of the Ephesians, Lady Adeline, 
 
 Began to think the duchess' conduct free; 
 Regretting much that she had chosen so bad a line. 
 
 And waxing chiller in her courtesy, 
 Look'd grave and pale to see her friend's fragility, 
 For which most friends reserve their sensibUity. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 There's nought in this bad world hke sympathy: 
 'Tis so becoming to the soul and face. 
 
 Sets to soft music the harmonious sigh, 
 
 And robes sweet friendship in a Brussels lace. 
 
 Without a friend, what were hiunanity. 
 To hunt our errors up with a good grace? 
 
 Consoling us with—" Would you had thought twice ! 
 
 Ah ! if you had but follow'd my advice!" 
 
CANTO XIV. DON JUAN. 267 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 Job! you had two friends: one's quite enough. 
 Especially when we are ill at ease; 
 
 They are but bad pilots when the weather's rough, 
 Doctors less famous for their cures than fees. 
 
 Let no man grumble when his friends fall off. 
 As they will do like leaves at the first breeze : 
 
 When your affairs come round, one way or t'other, I 
 
 Go to the coffee-house, and take another, l^) | 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 But this is not my maxim : had it been, 
 Someheart-acheshadbeensparedme: yet I care not — 
 
 1 would not be a tortoise in his screen 
 
 Of stubborn shell, which waves and weather wear not. 
 'Tis better on the whole to have felt and seen 
 
 That which humanity may bear, or bear not: 
 'Twill teach discernment to the sensitive, i 
 
 And not to pour their ocean in a sieve. 
 
 L. 
 
 Qf all the horrid, hideous notes of woe. 
 
 Sadder than owl- songs or the midnight blast. 
 
 Is that portentous phrase, "I told you so," 
 Utter'd by friends, those prophets of the past. 
 
 Who, 'stead of saying what you now should do. 
 Own they foresaw that you would fall at last. 
 
 And solace your slight lapse 'gainst "bonos snores," 
 
 With a long memorandum of old stories. 
 
268 ■ DON JUAN. CANTO xrv. 
 
 LI. . 
 
 The Lady Adeline's serene severity 
 
 Was not confined to feeling for her friend, 
 
 Whose fame she rather doubted with posterity, 
 Unless her habits should begin to mend: 
 
 But Juan also shared in her austerity, 
 
 But mix'd with pity, pure as e'er was penn'd: 
 
 His inexperience moved her gentle ruth. 
 
 And (as her junior by six weeks) his youth. 
 
 LIT. 
 
 These forty days' advantage of her years — 
 And hers were those which can face calculation, 
 
 Boldly referring to the list of peers 
 
 And noble births, nor dread the enumeration — 
 
 Gave her a right to have maternal fears 
 For a young gentleman's fit education. 
 
 Though she was far from that leap year, whose leap, 
 
 In female dates, strikes Time all of a heap. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 This may be fix'd at somewhere before thirty — 
 Say seven-and- twenty; for I never knew 
 
 The strictest in chronology and virtue 
 Advance beyond, while they could pass for new. 
 
 O Time! why dost not pause? Thy scythe, so dirty 
 With rust, should surely cease to hack and hew. 
 
 Reset it; shave more smoothly, also slower. 
 
 If but to keep thy credit as a mower. 
 
CANTO XIV. DON JUAN. 269 
 
 LIV. 
 
 But Adeline was far from that ripe age. 
 Whose ripeness is but bitter at the best: 
 
 Twas rather her experience made her sage. 
 For she had seen the world and stood its test. 
 
 As I have said in — I forget what page; 
 
 My Muse despises reference, as you have guess'd 
 
 By this time; — but strike six from seven-and- twenty. 
 
 And you will find her sum of years in plenty. 
 
 T,v. 
 At sixteen she came out; presented, vaunted. 
 
 She put all coronets into commotion: 
 At seventeen too the world was still enchanted 
 
 With the new Venus of their brilliant ocean: 
 At eighteen, though below her feet still panted 
 
 A hecatomb of suitors with devotion. 
 She had consented to create again f 
 
 That Adam, called "The happiest of men." ' 
 
 LVI. 
 
 Since then she had sparkled through three glowing 
 Admired, adored; but also so correct, ^winters. 
 
 That she had puzzled all the acutest hinters. 
 Without the apparel of being circumspect: 
 
 They could not even glean the slightest splinters 
 From oiF the marble, which had no defect. 
 
 She had also snatch'd a moment since her marriage 1 
 
 To bear a son and heir — and one miscarriage. j 
 
270 DON JUAN. CANTO XIV. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 Fondly the wheeling fire-flies flew around her. 
 Those little glitterers of the London night; 
 
 But none of these possess' d a sting to wound her — 
 She was a pitch beyond a coxcomb's flight. 
 
 Perhaps she wish'd an aspirant profounder; 
 But whatsoe'er she wish'd, she acted right; 
 
 And whether coldness, pride, or virtue, dignify 
 
 A woman, so she's good, what does it signify? 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 I hate a motive, like a lingering bottle 
 
 Which with the landlord makes too long a stand. 
 Leaving aU-claretless the unmoisten'd tlirottle. 
 
 Especially with politics on hand; 
 I hate it, as I hate a drove of cattle. 
 
 Who whirl the dust as simooms whirl the sand; 
 I hate it, as I hate an argument, 
 A laureate's ode, or servile peer's "content." 
 
 nx. 
 'Tis sad to hack into the roots of things. 
 
 They are so much intertwisted with the earth; 
 So that the branch a goodly verdure flings, 
 
 I reck not if an acorn gave it birth. 
 To trace all actions to their secret springs 
 
 Would make indeed some melancholy mirth; 
 But this is not at present my concern. 
 And I refer you to wise Oxenstiern. (") 
 
CANTO XIV. DON JUAN. 271 
 
 LX. 
 
 With the kind view of saving an eclat;, 
 Both to the duchess and diplomatist. 
 
 The Lady Adeline, as soon's she saw- 
 That Juan was unlikely to resist— 
 
 (For foreigners don't know that a. faux pas 
 In England ranks quite on a different list 
 
 From those of other lands unblest with juries. 
 
 Whose verdict for such sin a certain cure is; — ) 
 
 LXI. 
 
 The Lady Adeline resolved to take 
 
 Such measures as she thought might best impede 
 The farther progress of this sad mistake. 
 
 She thought with some simphcity indeed; 
 But innocence is bold even at the stake. 
 
 And simple in the world, and doth not need 
 Nor use those palisades by dames erected. 
 Whose virtue lies in never being detected. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 It was not that she fear'd the very worst: 
 His grace was an enduring, married man. 
 
 And was not likely all at once to burst 
 Into a scene, and swell the clients' clan 
 
 Of Doctors' Commons: but she dreaded first 
 The magic of her grace's talisman. 
 
 And next a quarrel (as he seem'd to fret) 
 
 With Lord Augustus Fitz-Plantagenet. 
 
272 DON JUAN. 
 
 CANTO XIV. 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 Her grace too pass'd for being an intrigante. 
 And somewhat mechante in her amorous sphere; 
 
 One of those pretty, precious plagues, which haunt 
 A lover with caprices soft and dear. 
 
 That like to make a quarrel, when they can't 
 Find one, each day of the delightful year; 
 
 Bevritching, torturing, as they freeze or glow. 
 
 And — what is worst of all — won't let you go: 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 The sort of thing to turn a young man's head, 
 Or make a Werter of him in the end. 
 
 No wonder then a purer soul should dread 
 This sort of chaste liaison for a friend; 
 
 It were much better to be wed or dead. 
 Than wear a heart a woman loves to rend. 
 
 'Tis best to pause, and think, ere you rush on. 
 
 If that a " bonne fortune" be reaUy "bonne." 
 
 LXV. 
 
 And first, in the o'erflowing of her heart, 
 
 "^Vliich reaUy knew or thought it knew no guile. 
 
 She call'd her husband now and then apart. 
 And bade him counsel Juan. With a smile 
 
 Lord Henry heard her plans of artless art 
 To wean Don Juan from the siren's wile; 
 
 And answer'd, like a statesman or a prophet. 
 
 In such guise that she could make nothing of it. 
 
CANTO XIV. DON JUAN. 273 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 Firstly^ he said, "he never interfered 
 In any body's business but the king's:" 
 
 Next, that ^'he never judged from what appear'd, 
 Without strong reason, of those sorts of things:' 
 
 Thirdly, that "Juan had more brain than beard, 
 And was not to be held in leading-strings;" 
 
 And fourthly, what need hardly be said twice, 
 
 " That good but rarely came from good advice." 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 And, therefore,^ doubtless to approve the truth 
 Of the last axiom, he advised his spouse 
 
 To leave the parties to themselves, forsooth — 
 At least as far as bienseance allows: 
 
 That time would temper Juan's faults of youth; 
 That young men rarely made monastic vows; 
 
 That opposition only more attaches — - 
 
 But here a messenger brought in despatches: 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 And being of the council call'd "the Privy," 
 
 Lord Henry walk'd into his cabinet, 
 To furnish matter for some future Livy 
 
 To tell how he reduced the nation's debt; 
 And if their full contents I do not give ye. 
 
 It is because I do not know them yet; 
 But I shall add them in a brief appendix. 
 To come between mine epic and its index. 
 
 VOL. II. T 
 
274 DON JUAN. 
 
 CANTO XiV, 
 
 LXTX. 
 
 But ere he went, he added a slight hint, 
 Another gentle common-place or two. 
 
 Such as are coin'd in conversation's mint. 
 
 And pass, for want of better, though not new: 
 
 Then broke his packet, to see what was in't. 
 And having casually glanced it through. 
 
 Retired; and, as he went out, calmly kiss'd her. 
 
 Less like a young wife than an aged sister. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 He was a cold, good, honourable man. 
 
 Proud of his birth, and proud of every thing; 
 
 A goodly spirit for a state divan, 
 A figure fit to walk before a king; 
 
 Tall, stately, form'd to lead the courtly van 
 On birthdays, glorious with a star and string; 
 
 The very model of a chamberlain — 
 
 And such I mean to make him when I reign. 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 But there was something wanting on the whole — 
 I don't know what, and therefore cannot teU — 
 
 Which pretty women — the sweet souls ! — call sottL 
 Certes it was not body; he was well 
 
 Proportion'd, as a poplar or a pole, 
 
 A handsome man, that human miracle; 
 
 And in each circumstance of love or war 
 
 Had still preserved his perpendicular. 
 
CANTO XIV. DON JUAN. 27 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 Still there was something wanting^ as I 've said — 
 
 That undefinable "Je ne sgais quoi," 
 ■Wliich, for what I know, may of yore have led 
 
 To Homer's Iliad, since it drew to Troy 
 The Greek Eve, Helen, from the Spartan's bed; 
 
 Though on the whole, no doubt, the Dardan boy 
 Was much inferior to King Menelaiis: — 
 But thus it is some women wiU betray us. 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 There is an awkward thing which much perplexes. 
 Unless like wise Tiresias we had proved 
 
 By turns the difference of the several sexes; 
 Neither can show quite how they would be loved. 
 
 The sensual for a short time but connects us — 
 The sentimental boasts to be unmoved; 
 
 But both together form a kind of centaur. 
 
 Upon whose back 'tis better not to venture. 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 A something all-sufficient for the heart 
 
 Is that for which the sex are always seeking: 
 
 But how to fiU up that same vacant part.'' 
 
 There lies the rub — and this they are but weak in. 
 
 Frail mariners afloat without a chart. 
 They run before the wind through high seas breaking ; 
 
 And when they have made th e shore through every shock, 
 
 'Tis odd, or odds, it may turn out a rock. 
 
 T 2 
 
276 DON JUAN. CANTO xiv. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 There is a flower call'd "Love in Idleness/' 
 
 For which see Shakspeare's ever-blooming garden; — 
 
 I will not make his great description less. 
 
 And beg his British godship's humble pardon. 
 
 If in my extremity of rhyme's distress, 
 
 I touch a single leaf where he is warden; — 
 
 But though the flower is different, with the French . 
 
 Or Swiss Rousseau, cry " Voila la Pervenche!" 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 Eureka! I have found it! What I mean 
 
 To say is, not that love is idleness. 
 But that in love such idleness has been 
 
 An accessory, as I have cause to guess. 
 Hard labour's an indifferent go-between; 
 
 Your men of business are not apt to express 
 Much passion, since the merchant-ship, the Argo, 
 Convey'd Medea as her supercargo. 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 " Beatus ille procul!" from "negotiis," 
 Saith Horace; the great httle poet's wrong; 
 
 His other maxim, " Noscitur a sociis," 
 Is much more to the purpose of his song; 
 
 Though even that were sometimes too ferocious. 
 Unless good company be kept too long; 
 
 But, in his teeth, whate'er their state or station. 
 
 Thrice happy they who have an occupation! 
 
CANTO XIV, DON JUAN. 277 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 Adam exchanged his Paradise for ploughing. 
 Eve made up millinery with fig leaves — 
 
 The earliest knowledge from the tree so knowing. 
 As far as I know, that the church receives: 
 
 And since that time it need not cost much showing. 
 That many of the iUs o'er which man grieves. 
 
 And stiU more women, spring from not employing 
 
 Some hours to make the remnant worth enjoying. 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 And hence high Ufe is oft a dreary void, | 
 
 A rack of pleasures, where we must invent 
 
 A something wherewithal to be annoy'd. 
 Bards may sing what they please about Content; 
 
 Contented, when translated, means but cloy'dj 
 And hence arise the woes of sentiment. 
 
 Blue devils, and blue-stockings, and romances 
 
 Reduced to practice, and perform'd like dances. 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 I do declare, upon an affidavit, 
 
 Romances I ne'er read like those I have seen; 
 Nor, if unto the world I ever gave it. 
 
 Would some believe that such a tale had been: 
 But such intent I never had, nor have it; 
 
 Some truths are better kept behind a screen. 
 Especially when they would look like lies; 
 I therefore deal in generalities. 
 
278 DON JUAN. 
 
 CANTO xiy. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 "An oyster may be cross'd in love," — and why? 
 
 Because he mopeth idly in his sheU, 
 And heaves a lonely subterraqueous sigh. 
 
 Much as a monk may do within his cell: 
 And a propos of monks, their piety 
 
 With sloth hath found it difficult to dwell; 
 Those vegetables of the Catholic creed 
 Are apt exceedingly to run to seed. 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 O Wilberforce! thou man of black renown, 
 "N^Tiose merit none enough can sing or say, 
 
 Thou hast struck one immense Colossus down. 
 Thou moral Washington of Africa ! 
 
 But there's another little thing, I own, 
 
 ^Fhich you should perpetrate some summer's day. 
 
 And set the other half of earth to rights; 
 
 You have freed the blacks — now pray shut up the whites. 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 Shut up the bald-coot bully Alexander; 
 
 Ship off the Holy Three to Senegal; 
 Teach them that "sauce for goose is sauce for gander," 
 
 And ask them how they like to be in thrall.^ 
 Shut up each high heroic salamander. 
 
 Who eats fire gratis (since the pay's but small); 
 Shut up — no, not the King, but the Pavilion, 
 Or else 'twill cost us all another million. 
 
CANTO X]V. DON JUAN. 279 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 Shut up the world at large^ let Bedlam out; 
 
 And you wiU be perhaps surprised to find 
 All things pursue exactly the same route^ 
 
 As now with those of soi-disant sound mind. 
 This I could prove beyond a single doubt^ 
 
 Were there a jot of sense among mankind; 
 But till that point d'appui is found, alas! 
 Like Archimedes, I leave earth as 't was. 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 Our gentle Adeline had one defect — 
 
 Her heart was vacant, though a splendid mansion; 
 Her conduct had been perfectly correct. 
 
 As she had seen nought claiming its expansion. 
 A wavering spirit may be easier wreck'd. 
 
 Because 'tis frailer, doubtless, than a stanch one; 
 But when the latter works its own undoing. 
 Its inner crash is like an earthquake's ruin. 
 
 LXXXV I. 
 
 She loved her lord, or thought so; but that love 
 
 Cost her an effort, which is a sad toil, 
 The stone of Sysiphus, if once we move 
 
 Our feelings 'gainst the nature of the soil. 
 She had nothing to complain of, or reprove. 
 
 No bickerings, no connubial turmoil : 
 Their union was a model to behold. 
 Serene and noble, — conjugal, but cold. 
 
280 DON JUAN. CANTO xiv. 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 There was no great disparity of years^ 
 
 Though much in temper; but they never clash'd: 
 They moved like stars united in their spheres. 
 
 Or like the Rhone by Leman's waters wash'd. 
 Where mingled and yet separate appears 
 
 The river from the lake, aU bluely dash'd 
 Through the serene and placid glassy deep, 
 Which fain would lull its river-child to sleep. 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 Now when she once had ta'en an interest 
 In any thing, however she might flatter 
 
 Herself that her intentions were the best. 
 Intense intentions are a dangerous matter: 
 
 Impressions were much stronger than she guess'd, 
 And gather'd as they run like growing water 
 
 Upon her mind; the more so, as her breast - 
 
 Was not at first too readily impress'd. 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 But when it was, she had that lurking demon 
 Of double nature, and thus doubly named — 
 
 Firmness yclept in heroes, kings, and seamen. 
 That is, when they succeed; but greatly blamed 
 
 As obstinacy, both in men and women. 
 
 Whene'er their triumph pales, or star is tamed: — 
 
 And 'twill perplex the casuist in morality 
 
 To fix the due bounds of this dangerous quality. 
 
CANTO XIV. DON JUAN. 28 ^ 
 
 xc. 
 Had Buonaparte won at Waterloo, 
 
 It had been firmness; now 'tis pertinacity: 
 Must the event decide between the two? 
 
 I leave it to your people of sagacity 
 To draw the line between the false and true. 
 
 If such can e'er be drawn by man's capacity: 
 My business is with Lady Adeline, 
 Who in her way too was a heroine. 
 
 xci. 
 She knew not her own heart; then how should I? 
 
 I think not she was then in love with Juan: 
 If so, she would have had the strength to fly 
 
 The wild sensation, unto her a new one: 
 She merely felt a common sympathy 
 
 (I will not say it was a false or true one) 
 In him, because she thought he was in danger, — 
 Her husband's friend, her own, young, and a stranger, 
 
 xcii. 
 She was, or thought she was, his friend — and this 
 
 Without the farce of friendship, or romance 
 Platonism, which leads so oft amiss 
 
 Ladies who have studied friendship but in France, 
 Or Germany, where people purely kiss. 
 
 To thus much Adeline would not advance ; 
 But of such friendship as man's may to man be 
 She was as capable as woman can be. 
 
282 DON JUAN. caNto xiv. 
 
 XCIII. 
 
 No doubt the secret influence of the sex 
 Will there, as also in the ties of blood. 
 
 An innocent predominance annex, 
 
 And tune the concord to a finer mood. 
 
 If free from passion, which aU friendship checks. 
 And your true feelings fully understood. 
 
 No friend like to a woman earth discovers. 
 
 So that you have not been nor will be lovers. 
 
 xciv. 
 Love bears within its breast the very germ 
 
 Of change ; and how should this be otherwise ? 
 That violent things more quickly find a term 
 
 Is shown through nature's whole analogies; 
 And how should the most fierce of all be firm? 
 
 Would you have endless lightning in the skies? 
 Methinks Love's very title says enough: 
 How should "the tender passion" e'er be tough? 
 
 Alas ! by all experience, seldom yet 
 
 (I merely quote what I have heard from many) 
 Had lovers not some reason to regret 
 
 The passion which made Solomon a Zany. 
 I 've also seen some wives (not to forget 
 
 The marriage state, the best or worst of any) 
 Who were the very paragons of wives. 
 Yet made the misery of at least two lives. 
 
CANTO xiv. DON JUAN. 283 
 
 I've also seen some feraale friends ('tis odd^ 
 But true — as^ if expedient, 1 could prove) 
 
 That faithful w^ere through thick and thin, abroad. 
 At home, far more than ever yet was Love — 
 
 Who did not quit me when Oppression trod 
 Upon me; whom no scandal could remove; 
 
 Who fought, and fight, in absence, too, my battles, 
 
 Despite the snake Society's loud rattles. 
 
 XCVII. 
 
 AVTiether Don Juan and chaste Adeline 
 Grew friends in this or any other sense 
 
 Will be discuss'd hereafter, T opine: 
 At present I am glad of a pretence 
 
 To leave them hovering, as the effect is fine. 
 And keeps the atrocious reader in suspense; 
 
 The surest way for ladies and for books 
 
 To bait their tender or their tenter hooks. 
 
 XCVIII. 
 
 Whether they rode, or walk'd, or studied Spanish 
 To read Don Quixote in the original, I 
 
 A pleasure before which all others vanish; I 
 Whether their talk was of the kind call'd "small," 
 
 Or serious, are the topics I must banish 
 To the next Canto; where perhaps I shall 
 
 Say something to the purpose, and display 
 
 Considerable talent in my way. 
 
284 DON JUAN. canto xiv. 
 
 xcix. 
 Above all, I beg all men to forbear 
 
 Anticipating aught about the matter: 
 They'll only make mistakes about the fair. 
 
 And Juan too, especially the latter. 
 And I shall take a much more serious air 
 
 Than I have yet done, in this epic satire. 
 It is not clear that Adeline and Juan 
 Will faU; but if they do, 'twill be their ruin. 
 
 c. 
 
 But great things spring from little: — Would you think, 
 That in our youth, as dangerous a passion 
 
 As e'er brought man and woman to the brink 
 Of ruin, rose from such a slight occasion. 
 
 As few would ever dream could form the link 
 Of such a sentimental situation.'' 
 
 You'll never guess, 1'U bet you millions, milliards — 
 
 It all sprung from a harmless game at billiards. 
 
 CI. 
 
 'Tis strange, — but true,' for truth is always strange; 
 
 Stranger than fiction : if it could be told. 
 How much would novels gain by the exchange; 
 
 How differently the world would men behold ! 
 How oft would vice and virtue places change ! 
 
 The new world would be nothing to the old. 
 If some Columbus of the moral seas 
 Would show mankind their souls' antipodes. 
 
CANTO XIV. DON JUAN 285 
 
 Cll. 
 
 What "antres vast and deserts idle" then 
 Would be discover'd in the human soul! 
 
 What icebergs in the hearts of mighty men. 
 With self-love in the centre as their pole ! 
 
 What Anthropophagi are nine of ten 
 
 Of those who hold the kingdoms in control! 
 
 Were things but only call'd by their right name, 
 
 Caesar himself would be ashamed of fame. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO XIV. 
 
 Note 1, page 262, stanza xxxiii. 
 And never craned, and made hutfeiv " faux pas." 
 Craning "To crane" Is, or was, an expression used to de- 
 note a gentleman's stretching out his neck over a hedge, "to 
 look before he leaped :" — a pause in his " vaulting ambition," 
 which in the field doth occasion some delay and execration in 
 those who may be immediately behind the equestrian sceptic. 
 " Sir, if you don't choose to take the leap, let me" — was a phrase 
 which generally sent the aspirant on again ; and to good purpose : 
 for though " the horse and rider" might fall, they made a gap, 
 through which, and over him and his steed, the field might follow. 
 
 Note 2, page 267, stanza xlviii. 
 
 Let no man grumble when Ms friends fall off. 
 As they will do like leaves at the first breeze ■■ 
 When your affairs come round, one way or f other. 
 Go to the coffee-house, and take another. 
 
 In Swift's or Horace Walpole's letters I think it is mentioned, 
 that somebody regretting the loss of a friend, was answered by an 
 universal Pylades : " When I lose one, 1 go to the Saint James's 
 Coffee-house, and take another." 
 
 I recollect having heard an anecdote of the same kind. Sir 
 W. D. was a great gamester. Coming in one day to the club of 
 which he was a member, he was observed to look melancholy. 
 " What is the matter, Sir William ?" cried Hare, of facetious 
 memory, " Ah !" replied Sir W. " I have just lost poor Lady 
 D." "Lost! 'V/hatatf Quinze or Hazard 9" was the consolatory 
 rejoinder of the querist. 
 
288 NOTES TO CANTO XIV. 
 
 Note 3, page 270, stanza lix. 
 
 But this is not at present my concern. 
 And I refer you to ivise Oxenstiern. 
 
 The famous Chancellor Oxenstiem said to his son, on the 
 latter expressing his surprise upon the great effects arising from 
 petty causes in the presumed mystery of politics : " You see by 
 this, my son, with how little wisdom the kingdoms of the world 
 are governed." 
 
DON JUAN. 
 
 CANTO XV. 
 
 I. 
 Ah! — What should follow slips from my reflection; 
 
 AVTiatever follows ne'ertheless may be 
 As a-propos of hope or retrospection^ 
 
 As though the lurking thought had foUow'd free. 
 All present life is but an interjection^ 
 
 An "Oh!" or "Ah!" of joy or misery. 
 Or a "Ha! ha!" or "Bah!" — a yawn, or "Pooh!" 
 Of which perhaps the latter is most true. 
 
 II. 
 But, more or less, the whole's a syncope 
 
 Or a singultus — emblems of emotion. 
 The grand antithesis to great ennui. 
 
 Wherewith we break our bubbles on the ocean. 
 That watery outline of eternity. 
 
 Or miniature at least, as is my notion. 
 Which ministers unto the soul's delight. 
 In seeing matters which are out of sight. 
 
 VOL. II. u 
 
290 DON JUAN. CANTO xv. 
 
 III. 
 But all are better than the sigh supprest. 
 
 Corroding in the cavern of the heart. 
 Making the countenance a masque of rest. 
 
 And turning human nature to an art. 
 Few men dare show their thoughts of worst or best; 
 
 Dissimulation always sets apart 
 A corner for herself; and therefore fiction 
 Is that which passes with least contradiction. 
 
 Ah! who can tell? Or rather, who can not 
 Remember, without telling, passion's errors ? 
 
 The drainer of oblivion, even the sot. 
 
 Hath got blue devils for his morning mirrors: 
 
 IVTiat though on Lethe's stream he seem to float, 
 He cannot sink his tremors or his terrors; 
 
 The ruby glass that shakes within his hand 
 
 Leaves a sad sediment of Time's worst sand. 
 
 And as for love — O love! We will proceed. 
 
 The Lady Adeline AmundeviHe, 
 A pretty name as one would wish to read. 
 
 Must perch harmonious on my tuneful quiU. 
 There's music in the sighing of a reed; 
 
 There's music in the gushing of a riU; 
 There's music in aU things, if men had ears: 
 Their earth is but an echo of the spheres. 
 
CANTO XV. DON JUAN. 291 
 
 VI. 
 
 The Lady Adeline^ right honourable. 
 
 And honour'd, ran a risk of growing less so; 
 
 For few of the soft sex are very stable 
 
 In their resolves — alas ! that I should say so ! 
 
 They differ as wine differs from its label. 
 
 When once decanted; — I presume to guess so. 
 
 But wUl not swear: yet both upon occasion. 
 
 Till old, may undergo adulteration. 
 
 VII. 
 
 But Adeline was of the purest vintage. 
 
 The unmingled essence of the grape; and yet 
 
 Bright as a new Napoleon from its mintage. 
 Or glorious as a diamond richly set; 
 
 A page where Time should hesitate to print age. 
 And for which Nature might forego her debt — 
 
 Sole creditor whose process doth involve in 't 
 
 The luck of finding every body solvent. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 O Death ! thou dunnest of all duns ! thou daily 
 Knockest at doors, at first with modest tap, 
 
 Like a meek tradesman when, approaching palely. 
 Some splendid debtor he would take by sap : 
 
 But oft denied, as patience 'gins to fail, he 
 Advances with exasperated rap. 
 
 And (if let in) insists, in terms unhandsome. 
 
 On ready money or "a draft on Ransom." 
 
 u 2 
 
292 DON JUAN. CANTO XV. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Whate'er thou takest, spare a while poor Beauty ! 
 
 She is so rare^ and thou hast so much prey. 
 What though she now and then may slip from duty. 
 
 The more 's the reason why you ought to stay. 
 Gaunt Gourmand ! with whole nations for your booty. 
 
 You should be civil in a modest way : 
 Suppress, then, some slight feminine diseases. 
 And take as many heroes as Heaven pleases. 
 
 X. 
 
 Fair Adeline, the more ingenuous 
 ^VTiere she was interested (as was said). 
 
 Because she was not apt, like some of us. 
 To hke too readily, or too high bred 
 
 To show it — (points we need not now discuss) — 
 Would give up artlessly both heart and head 
 
 Unto such feelings as seem'd innocent. 
 
 For objects worthy of the sentiment. 
 
 Some parts of Juan's history, which Rumour, 
 That live gazette, had scatter'd to disfigure, 
 
 Shehadheard; but women hear with more good humour 
 Such aberrations than we men of rigour : 
 
 Besides, his conduct, since in England, grew more 
 Strict, and his mind assumed a manlier vigour; 
 
 Because he had, like Alcibiades, 
 
 The art of living in aU climes with ease. 
 
CANTO XV. DON JUAN. 293 
 
 XII. 
 
 His manner was perhaps the more seductive. 
 Because he ne'er seem'd anxious to seduce; 
 
 Nothing afFected_, studied, or constructive 
 Of coxcombry or conquest: no abuse 
 
 Of his attractions marr'd the fair perspective. 
 To indicate a Cupidon broke loose. 
 
 And seem to say, ''^ Resist us if you can" — 
 
 Wliich makes a dandy while it spoils a man. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 They are wrong — that's not the way to set about it; 
 
 As, if they told the truth, could well be shown. 
 But, right or wrong, Don Juan was without it; 
 
 In fact, his manner was his own alone: 
 Sincere he was — at least you could not doubt it, 
 
 In listening merely to his voice's tone. 
 The devil hath not in all his quiver's choice 
 An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 By nature soft, his whole address held off 
 Suspicion: though not timid, his regard 
 
 Was such as rather seem'd to keep aloof. 
 
 To shield himself than put you on your guard: 
 
 Perhaps 'twas hardly quite assured enough. 
 But modesty's at times its own reward. 
 
 Like virtue; and the absence of pretension 
 
 "SVill go much farther than there's need to mention. 
 
294 DON JUAN. canto xv. 
 
 XV. 
 
 SerenCj accomplish'd^ cheerful but not loud; 
 
 Insinuating without insinuation; 
 Observant of the foibles of the crowds 
 
 Yet ne'er betraying this in conversation; 
 Proud with the proud^ yet courteously proud. 
 
 So as to make them feel he knew his station 
 And theirs: — without a struggle for priority. 
 He neither brook'd nor claim'd superiority. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 That is, with men: with women he was what 
 They pleased to make or take him for; and their 
 
 Imagination's quite enough for that: 
 So that the outline's tolerably fair. 
 
 They fiU the canvas up — and '^'^verbum sat." 
 If once their phantasies be brought to bear 
 
 Upon an object, whether sad or playful. 
 
 They can transfigure brighter than a Raphael. 
 
 XVll. 
 Adeline, no deep judge of character. 
 
 Was apt to add a colouring from her own: 
 'Tis thus the good will amiably err. 
 
 And eke the wise, as has been often shown. 
 Experience is the chief philosopher. 
 
 But saddest when his science is well known: 
 And persecuted sages teach the schools 
 Their folly in forgetting there are fools. 
 
CANTO XV. DON JUAN. 295 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Was it not so^ great Locke? and greater Bacon? 
 
 Great Socrates? And thou^ Diviner stilled) 
 Whose lot it is by man to be mistaken. 
 
 And thy pure creed made sanction of all ill? 
 Redeeming worlds to be by bigots shaken. 
 
 How was thy toil rewarded? We might fill 
 Volumes with similar sad illustrations. 
 But leave them to the conscience of the nations. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 I perch upon an humbler promontory. 
 
 Amidst life's infinite variety: 
 With no great care for what is nicknamed glory, 
 
 But speculating as I cast mine eye 
 On what may suit or may not suit my story. 
 
 And never straining hard to versify, 
 I rattle on exactly as I'd talk 
 With any body in a ride or walk. 
 
 XX. 
 
 I don't know that there may be much ability 
 Shown in this sort of desultory rhyme; 
 
 But there's a conversational facility. 
 
 Which may round ofi" an hour upon a time. 
 
 Of this I'm sure at least, there's no serviUty 
 In mine irregularity of chime. 
 
 Which rings what's uppermost of new or hoary. 
 
 Just as I feel the " Improvisatore." 
 
296 DON JUAN. canto xv. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 "Omnia vult belle Matho dicere — die aliquando 
 Et bene, die neutrum, die aliquando male." 
 
 The first is rather more than mortal can do 
 The second may be sadly done or gaily; 
 
 The third is stiU more difficult to stand to; 
 
 The fourth we hear^ and see, and say too^ daily : 
 
 The whole together is what I could wish 
 
 To serve in this conundrum of a dish. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 A modest hope — but modesty's my forte. 
 And pride my feeble : — let us ramble on. 
 
 I meant to make this poem very short. 
 But now I can't teU where it may not run. 
 
 No doubt, if I had wish'd to pay my court 
 To critics, or to hail the setting sun 
 
 Of tyranny of aU kinds, my concision 
 
 Were more; — but I was born for opposition. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 But then 'tis mostly on the weaker side; 
 
 So that I verily believe if they 
 Who now are basking in their full-blown pride 
 
 Were shaken down, and "dogs had had their day," 
 Though at the first I might perchance deride 
 
 Their tumble, I should turn the other way. 
 And wax an ultra-royalist in loyalty. 
 Because I hate even democratic royalty. 
 
CANTO XV. DON JUAN. 297 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 I think I should have»made a decent spouse. 
 If I had never proved the soft condition ; 
 
 I think I should have made monastic vows. 
 But for my own peculiar superstition : 
 
 'Gainst rhyme I never should have knock'd my brows. 
 Nor broken my own head, nor that of Priscian, 
 
 Nor worn the motley mantle of a poet. 
 
 If some one had not told me to forego it. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 But "laissez aller"— knights and dames I sing. 
 Such as the times may furnish. 'Tis a flight 
 
 Which seems at first to need no lofty wing. 
 Plumed by Longinus or the Stagyrite : 
 
 The difficulty lies in colouring 
 
 (Keeping the due proportions still in sight) 
 
 With Nature manners which are artificial. 
 
 And rend'ring general that which is especial. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 The difference is, that in the days of old 
 
 Men made the manners; manners now make men— 
 
 Pinn'd like a flock, and fleeced too in their fold, 
 At least nine, and a ninth beside of ten. 
 
 Now this at all events must render cold 
 Your writers, who must either draw again 
 
 Days better drawn before, or else assume 
 
 The present, with their common-place costume. 
 
298 DON JUAN. canto xv. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 We'll do our best to make the best on't: — March! 
 
 March, my Muse! If you cannot fly, yet flutter; 
 And when you may not be sublime, be arch. 
 
 Or starch, as are the edicts statesmen utter. 
 We surely may find something worth research: 
 
 Columbus found a new world in a cutter. 
 Or brigantirie, or pink, of no great tonnage. 
 While yet America was in her non-age. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 When Adeline, in aU her growing sense 
 
 Of Juan's merits and his situation. 
 Felt on the whole an interest intense — 
 
 Partly perhaps because a fresh sensation. 
 Or that he had an air of innocence. 
 
 Which is for innocence a sad temptation, — 
 As women hate half measures, on the whole. 
 She 'gan to ponder how to save his soul. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 She had a good opinion of advice. 
 
 Like all who give and eke receive it gratis. 
 
 For which small thanks are still the market price. 
 Even where the article at highest rate is : 
 
 She thought upon the subject twice or thrice. 
 And morally decided, the best state is 
 
 For morals, marriage; and this question carried. 
 
 She seriously advised him to get married. 
 
CANTO XV. DON JUAN. 299 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Juan replied, with all becoming deference. 
 
 He had a predilection for that tie ; 
 But that, at present, with immediate reference 
 
 To his own circumstances, there might lie 
 Some difficulties, as in his own preference. 
 
 Or that of her to whom he might apply: 
 That stiU he'd wed with such or such a lady. 
 If that they were not married all already. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Next to the making matches for herself. 
 And daughters, brothers, sisters, kith or kin. 
 
 Arranging them like books on the same shelf. 
 There's nothing women love to dabble in 
 
 More (like a stock-holder in growing pelf) 
 Than match-making in general: 'tis no sin 
 
 Certes, but a preventative, and therefore 
 
 That is, no doubt, the only reason wherefore. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 But never yet (except of course a miss 
 
 Unwed, or mistress never to be wed. 
 Or wed already, who object to this) 
 
 Was there chaste dame who had not in her head 
 Some drama of the marriage unities. 
 
 Observed as strictly both at board and bed. 
 As those of Aristotle, though sometimes 
 They turn out melodrames or pantomimes. 
 
300 DON JUAN, CANTO XV. 
 
 XXXITI. 
 
 They generally have some only son. 
 
 Some heir to a large property, some friend 
 
 Of an old family, some gay Sir John, 
 
 Or grave Lord George, with whom perhaps might end 
 
 A line, and leave posterity undone. 
 
 Unless a marriage was applied to mend 
 
 The prospect and their morals : and besides, 
 
 They have at hand a blooming glut of brides, 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 From these they will be careful to select, 
 For this an heiress, and for that a beauty; 
 
 For one a songstress who hath no defect. 
 For t'other one who promises much duty; 
 
 For this a lady no one can reject. 
 Whose sole accomplishments were quite a booty; 
 
 A second for her excellent connexions; 
 
 A third, because there can be no objections. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 \^''hen Rapp the Harmonist embargo'd marriage '^^ 
 In his harmonious settlement^(which flourishes 
 
 Strangely enough as yet without miscarriage. 
 Because it breeds no more mouths than it nourishes, 
 
 Without those sad expenses which disparage 
 '\VTiat Nature naturally most en courages) ^ — ■ 
 
 Why call'd he "Harmony" a state sans wedlock? 
 
 Now here I have got the preacher at a dead lock, 
 
CANTO XV. DON JUAN. 301 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Because he either meant to sneer at harmony 
 Or marriage, by divorcing them thus oddly. 
 
 But whether reverend Rapp learn'd this in Germany 
 Or no, 'tis said his sect is rich and godly. 
 
 Pious and pure, beyond what I can term any 
 Of ours, although they propagate more broadly. 
 
 My objection's to his title, not his ritual. 
 
 Although I wonder how it grew habitual. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 But Rapp is the reverse of zealous matrons. 
 Who favour, malgre Malthus, generation — 
 
 Professors of that genial art, and patrons 
 Of all the modest part of propagation ; 
 
 THiich after all at such a desperate rate runs. 
 That half its produce tends to emigration. 
 
 That sad result of passions and potatoes — 
 
 Two weeds which pose our economic Catos. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Had Adeline read Malthus? I can't tell; 
 
 I wish she had: his book 's the eleventh commandment, 
 Which says, "Thou shalt not marry," unless well: 
 
 This he (as far as I can understand) meant. 
 'Tis not my purpose on his views to dwell. 
 
 Nor canvass what "so eminent a hand" meant; (s) 
 But certes it conducts to lives ascetic. 
 Or turning marriage into arithmetic. 
 
302 DON JUAN, canto xv. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 But Adeline, who probably presumed 
 That Juan had enough of maintenance. 
 
 Or separate maintenance, in case 'twas doom'd — 
 As on the whole it is an even chance 
 
 That bridegrooms, after they are fairly groom d, 
 May retrograde a little in the dance 
 
 Of marriage — (which might form a painter's fame. 
 
 Like Holbein's "Dance of Death" — but 'tis the sanae); — 
 
 XL. 
 
 But Adeline determined Juan's wedding 
 
 In her own mind, and that's enough for woman: 
 
 But then, with whom .? There was thesage Miss Reading, 
 Miss Raw, Miss Flaw, Miss Showman, and Miss 
 Knowman, 
 
 And the two fair co-heiresses Giltbedding. 
 She deem'd his merits something more than common : 
 
 All these were unobjectionable matches. 
 
 And might go on, if well wound up, like watches. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 There was Miss MiUpond, smooth as summer's sea. 
 That usual paragon, an only daughter. 
 
 Who seem'd the cream of equanimity, [^water, 
 
 Till skimm'd — and then there was some milk and 
 
 With a slight shade of blue too it might be. 
 Beneath the surface; but what did it matter? 
 
 Love's riotous, but marriage should have quiet. 
 
 And being consumptive, live on a milk diet. 
 
CANTO XV. DON JUAN". 303 
 
 XLII. 
 
 And then there was the Miss Audacia Shoestring, 
 A dashing demoiselle of good estate^, 
 
 Whose heart was fix'd upon a star or blue string ; 
 But whether English dukes grew rare of late^ 
 
 Or that she had not harp'd upon the true string. 
 By which such sirens can attract our great. 
 
 She took up with sonae foreign younger brother, 
 
 A Russ or Turk- — the one's as good as t'other. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 And then there was — but why should I go on. 
 Unless the ladies should go off? — there was 
 
 Indeed a certain fair and fairy one. 
 Of the best class, and better than her class, — 
 
 Aurora Raby, a young star who shone 
 
 O'er life, too sweet an image for such glass, 
 
 A lovely being, scarcely form'd or moulded, 
 
 A rose with all its sweetest leaves yet folded; 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 Rich, noble, but an orphan ; left an only 
 
 Child to the care of guardians good and kind; 
 
 But still her aspect had an air so lonely ! 
 Blood is not water; and where shall we find 
 
 Feelings of youth like those which overthrown lie 
 By death, when we are left, alas ! behind. 
 
 To feel, in friendless palaces, a home 
 
 Is wanting, and our best ties in the tomb? 
 
304 DON JUAN. CANTO xv. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 Early in years^ and yet more infantine 
 In figure^ she had something of sublime 
 
 In eyes which sadly shone^ as seraphs' shine. 
 All youth — but with an aspect beyond time; 
 
 Radiant and grave — as pitying man's decline; 
 Mournful— but mournful of another's crime;, 
 
 She look'd as if she sat by Eden's door, 
 
 And grieved for those who could return no more. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 She was a Catholic too, sincere, austere. 
 As far as her own gentle heart allow' d. 
 
 And deem'd that fallen worship far more dear 
 
 Perhaps because 'twas fallen : her sires were proud 
 
 Of deeds and days when they had fiU'd the ear 
 Of nations, and had never bent or bow'd 
 
 To novel power; and as she was the last, 
 
 She held their old faith and old feeUngs fast. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 She gazed upon a world she scarcely knew 
 As seeking not to know it ; silent, lone. 
 
 As grows a flower, thus quietly she grew. 
 And kept her heart serene within its zone. 
 
 There was awe in the homage which she drew; 
 Her spirit seem'd as seated on a throne 
 
 Apart from the surrounding world, and strong 
 
 In its own strength— most strange in one so young ! 
 
CANTO XV. DON JUAN. 305 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 Now it so happen'd, in the catalogue 
 
 Of Adeline^ Aurora was omitted. 
 Although her birth and wealth had given her vogue 
 
 Beyond the charmers we have already cited; 
 Her beauty also seem'd to form no clog 
 
 Against her being mention'd as well fitted. 
 By many virtues, to be worth the trouble 
 Of single gentlemen who would be double. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 And this omission, like that of the bust 
 Of Brutus at the pageant of Tiberius, 
 
 Made Juan wonder, as no doubt he must. 
 
 This he express'd half smiling and half serious; 
 
 When Adeline replied with some disgust. 
 And with an air, to say the least, imperious. 
 
 She marvell'd '"^what he saw in such a baby 
 
 As that prim, sUent, cold Aurora Raby?" 
 
 Juan rejoined — "She was a Catholic, 
 And therefore fittest, as of his persuasion; 
 
 Since he was sure his mother would fall sick. 
 And the Pope thunder excommunication. 
 
 If " But here Adeline, who seem'd to pique 
 
 Herself extremely on the inoculation 
 
 Of others with her own opinions, stated — 
 
 As usual — the same reason which she late did. 
 
 VOL. II. X 
 
30G DON JUAN. CANTO xv. 
 
 LI. 
 
 And wherefore not? A reasonable reason. 
 If good, is none the worse for repetition; 
 
 If bad, the best way's certainly to tease on. 
 And amphfy: you lose much by concision. 
 
 Whereas insisting in or out of season 
 Convinces all men, even a politician; 
 
 Or — what is just the same — it wearies out. 
 
 So the end's gain'd, what signifies the route? 
 
 LII. 
 
 Why Adehne had this slight prejudice — 
 For prejudice it was — against a creature 
 
 As pure as sanctity itself from vice. 
 
 With all the added charm of form and feature. 
 
 For me appears a question far too nice. 
 Since Adeline was liberal by nature; 
 
 But nature's nature, and has ixiore caprices 
 
 Than I have time, or will, to take to pieces. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 Perhaps she did not like the quiet way 
 
 With which Aurora on those baubles look'd. 
 
 Which charm most people in their earlier day: 
 For there are few things by mankind less brook' d. 
 
 And womankind too, if we so may say. 
 
 Than finding thus their genius stand rebuked. 
 
 Like "Anthony's by CtEsar," by the few 
 
 Who look upon them as they ought to do. 
 
CANTO XV. DON JUAN. 307 
 
 LIV. 
 
 It was not envy — Adeline had none; 
 
 Her place was far beyond it^ and her mind. 
 It was not scorn — which could not light on one 
 
 Whose gresitest fault was leaving few to find. 
 It was not jealousy, I think: but shun 
 
 Following the '^''ignes fatui" of mankind. 
 
 It was not but 'tis easier far, alas ! 
 
 To say what it was not than what it was. 
 
 LV. 
 
 Little Aurora deem'd she was the theme 
 Of such discussion. She was there a guest; 
 
 A beauteous ripple of the brilliant stream 
 
 Of rank and youth, though purer than the rest. 
 
 Which flow'd on for a moment in the beam 
 Time sheds a moment o'er each sparkling crest. 
 
 Had she known this, she would have calmly smiled — 
 
 She had so much, or little, of the child, 
 
 LVI. 
 
 The dashing and proud air of Adeline 
 Imposed not upon her : she saw her blaze 
 
 Much as she would have seen a glow-worm shine. 
 Then turn'd unto the stars for loftier rays. 
 
 Juan was something she could not divine. 
 Being no sibyl in the new world's ways; 
 
 Yet she was nothing dazzled by the meteor, 
 
 -Because she did not pin her faith on feature. 
 
308 DON JUAN. CANTO XV. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 His fame^ too^^ — for he had that kind of fame 
 Which sometimes plays the deuce with womankind;, 
 
 A heterogeneous mass of glorious hlame^ 
 
 Half virtues and whole vices being combined; 
 
 Faults which attract because they are not tame'; 
 Follies trick'd out so brightly that they blind: — 
 
 These seals upon her wax made no impression^, 
 
 Such was her coldness or her self-possession. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 Juan knew nought of such a character — ■ 
 High, yet resembling not his lost Haidee ; 
 
 Yet each was radiant in her proper sphere: 
 The island girl, bred up by the lone sea. 
 
 More warm, as lovely, and not less sincere. 
 Was Nature's all: Aurora could not be. 
 
 Nor would be thus: — the difference in them 
 
 Was such as lies between a flower and gem. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 Having wound up with this sublime comparison, 
 Methinks we may proceed upon our narrative. 
 
 And, as my friend Scott says, "I sound my warison;" 
 Scott, the superlative of my comparative — 
 
 Scott, who can paint your Christian knight or Saracen, 
 Serf, lord, man, with such skiU as none would share 
 it, if 
 
 There had not been one Shakspeare and Voltaire, 
 
 Of one or both of whom he seems the heir. 
 
CANTO XV. DON JUAN. 309 
 
 I say, in my slight way I may proceed 
 To play upon the surface of humanity. 
 
 I write the world, nor care if the world read. 
 At least for this I cannot spare its vanity. 
 
 My Muse hath bred, and stiU perhaps may breed 
 More foes by this same scroll : when I began it, I 
 
 Thought that it might turn out so — now I know it. 
 
 But still I am, or was, a pretty poet. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 The conference or congress (for it ended 
 As congresses of late do) of the Lady 
 
 Adeline and Don Juan rather blended 
 
 Some acids with the sweets — for she was heady; 
 
 But, ere the matter could be marr'd or mended. 
 The silvery beU rang, not for '^'^ dinner ready," 
 
 But for that hour, caU'd half-hour, given to dress. 
 
 Though ladies' robes seem scant enough for less. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 Great things were now to be achieved at table. 
 With massy plate for armour, knives and forks 
 
 For weapons; but what Muse since Homer's able 
 (His feasts are not the worst part of his works) 
 
 To draw up in array a single day-bill 
 Of modern dinners? where more mystery lurks 
 
 In soups or sauces, or a sole ragout. 
 
 Than witches, b — ches, or physicians, brew, 
 
310 DON JUAN. CANTO xv. 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 There was a goodly ^''soupe a la bonne femme," £too 
 Though God knowg whence it came from; there was 
 
 A turbot for relief of those who cram. 
 Relieved with "dindon a la Parigeux;" 
 
 There also was the sinner that I am! 
 
 How shall I get this gourmand stanza through? — 
 
 " Soupe a la Beauveau," whose relief was dory. 
 
 Relieved itself by pork, for greater glory. 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 But I must crowd all into one grand mess 
 Or mass; for should I stretch into detail. 
 
 My Muse would run much more into excess. 
 
 Than when some squeamish people deem her frail. 
 
 But though a '^' bonne vivante," I must confess 
 Her stomach's not her peccant part; this tale 
 
 However doth require some slight refection. 
 
 Just to relieve her spirits from dejection. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 Fowls " a la Conde," slices eke of salmon, 
 
 With '^' sauces Genevoises," and haunch of venison; 
 
 Wines too which might again have slain youngAmmon — 
 A man like whom I hope we sha'n't see many soon ; 
 
 They also set a glazed Westphalian ham on. 
 Whereon Apicius would bestow his benison; 
 
 And then there was champagne with foaming whirls, 
 
 As white as Cleopatra's melted pearls. 
 
CANTO XV. DON JUAN. 311 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 Then there was God knows what "a rAllemande/' 
 ''A FEspagnole/' "timballe/' and ''"salpicon" — 
 
 With things I can't withstand or understand^ 
 
 Though swallow'd with much zest upon the whole; 
 
 And "entremets" to piddle with at hand_, 
 Gently to lull down the subsiding soul; 
 
 W-Tiile great LucuUus' (Robe triumphal) muffles — 
 
 (There's fame) — young partridge fillets, deck'd with 
 truffles. (^) 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 What are the Jillets on the victor's brow 
 
 To these? They are rags or dust. Where is the arch 
 "VFhich nodded to the nation's spoils below ? 
 
 Where the triumphal chariots' haughty march? 
 Gone to where victories must like dinners go. 
 
 Farther I shall not follow the research: 
 But oh! ye modern heroes with your cartridges, 
 "When will your names lend lustre e'en to partridges? 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 Those truffles too are no bad accessories, 
 FoUow'd by "^petits puits d'amour" — a dish 
 
 Of which perhaps the cookery rather varies. 
 So every one may dress it to his wish. 
 
 According to the best of dictionaries, 
 ^V^hich encyclopedize both flesh and fish; 
 
 But even sans "confitures," it no less true is. 
 
 There's pretty picking in those "petits puits." (s) 
 
312 DON JUAN. canto xv. 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 The mind is lost in mighty contemplation 
 
 Of intellect expended on two courses; 
 And indigestion's grand multiplication 
 
 Requires arithmetic beyond my forces. 
 Who would suppose^ from Adam's simple ration, 
 
 That cookery could have call'd forth such resources. 
 As form a science and a nomenclature 
 From out the commonest demands of nature ? 
 
 LXX. 
 
 The glasses jingled, and the palates tingled; 
 
 The diners of celebrity dined weU; 
 The ladies with more moderation mingled 
 
 In the feast, pecking less than I can tell; 
 Also the younger men too: for a springald 
 
 Can't, like ripe age, in gormandize excel. 
 But thinks less of good eating than the whisper 
 (When seated next him) of some pretty lisper. 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 Alas ! I must leave undescribed the gibier. 
 
 The salmi, the consomme, the puree. 
 All which I use to make my rhymes run glibber 
 
 Than could roast beef in our rough John Bull way : 
 I must not introduce even a spare rib here, 
 
 '^^ Bubble and squeak" would spoil my liquid lay: 
 But I have dined, and must forego, alas ! 
 The chaste description even of a "b^casse;" 
 
CANTO XV. DON JUAN. 313 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 And fruits, and ice, and all that art refines 
 From nature for the service of the gout — 
 
 Taste or the gout, — pronounce it as inclines 
 Your stomach! Ere you dine, the French will do; 
 
 But after, there are sometimes certain signs 
 Which prove plain English truer of the two. 
 
 Hast ever had the gout? I have not had it — ■ 
 
 But I may have, and you too, reader, dread it. 
 
 Lxxm. 
 The simple ohves, best allies of wine. 
 
 Must I pass over in my bill of fare? 
 I must, although a favourite " plat" of mine 
 
 In Spain, and Lucca, Athens, every where: 
 On them and bread 'twas oft my luck to dine. 
 
 The grass my table-cloth, in open air. 
 On Sunium or Hymettus, like Diogenes, 
 Of whom half my philosophy the progeny is. 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 Amidst this tumult of fish, flesh, and fowl. 
 
 And vegetables, all in masquerade. 
 The guests were placed according to their roll. 
 
 But various as the various meats display'd: 
 Don Juan sat next an "a I'Espagnole" — 
 
 No damsel, but a dish, as hath been said; 
 But so far like a lady, that 'twas drest 
 Superbly, and contain'd a world of zest. 
 
3 1 4 DON JUAN. CANTO XV. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 By Some odd chance too he was placed between 
 
 Aurora and the Lady AdeUne — 
 A situation difficulty 1 ween. 
 
 For man therein, with eyes and heart, to dine. 
 Also the conferQnce which we have seen 
 
 Was not such as to encourage him to shine; 
 For Adeline, addressing few words to him. 
 With two transcendent eyes seem'd to look through hira. 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 I sometimes almost think that eyes have ears : 
 This much is sure, that, out of earshot, things 
 
 Are somehow echoed to the pretty dears. 
 
 Of which I can't tell whence their knowledge springs ; 
 
 Like that same mystic music of the spheres, 
 WTaich no one hears so loudly though it rings. 
 
 'Tis wonderful how oft the sex have heard 
 
 Long dialogues which pass'd without a word! 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 Aurora sat with that indifference 
 
 Which piques a preux chevalier — as it ought: 
 Of all offences that 's the worst offence. 
 
 Which seems to hint you are not worth a thought. 
 Now Juan, though no coxcomb in pretence. 
 
 Was not exactly pleased to be so caught; 
 Like a good ship entangled among ice. 
 And after so much excellent advice. 
 
CANTO XV. DON JUAN. 315 
 
 rxxviii. 
 To his gay nothings, nothing was replied^ 
 
 Or something which was nothing, as urbanity 
 Required. Aurora scarcely look'd aside. 
 
 Nor even smiled enough for any vanity. 
 The devil was in the girl! Could it be pride.? 
 
 Or modesty, or absence, or inanity.?" 
 Heaven knows ! But Adeline's malicious eyes 
 Sparkled with her successful prophecies, 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 And look'd as much as if to say, "I said itj" — 
 A kind of triumph I'll not recommend. 
 
 Because it sometimes, as I have seen or read it. 
 Both in the case of lover and of friend. 
 
 Will pique a gentleman, for his own credit. 
 To bring what was a jest to a serious end: 
 
 For all men prophesy what is or ivas, 
 
 And hate those who won't let them come to pass. 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 Juan was drawn thus into some attentions. 
 Slight but select, and just enough to express. 
 
 To females of perspicuous comprehensions. 
 That he would rather make them more than less. 
 
 Aurora at the last (so history mentions. 
 
 Though probably much less a fact than guess) 
 
 So far relax'd her thoughts from their sweet prison. 
 
 As once or twice to smile, if not to listen. 
 
316 DON JUAN. CANTO XV. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 From answering she began to question : this 
 With her was rare; and AdeUne^ who as yet 
 
 Thought her predictions went not much amiss. 
 Began to dread she'd thaw to a coquette — 
 
 So very difficult, they say, it is 
 
 To keep extremes from meeting, when once set 
 
 In motion; but she here too much refined — 
 
 Aurora's spirit was not of that kind. 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 But Juan had a sort of winning way, 
 
 A proud humility, if such there be. 
 Which show'd such deference to what females say. 
 
 As if each charming word were a decree. 
 His tact too temper'd him from grave to gay. 
 
 And taught him when to be reserved or free : 
 He had the art of drawing people out. 
 Without their seeing what he was about. 
 
 rxxxiii. 
 Aurora, who in her indifference 
 
 Confounded him in common with the crowd 
 Of flatterers, though shedeem'd he had more sense 
 
 Than whispering foplings, or than witlings loud — 
 Commenced (from such slight things wiU great com- 
 mence) 
 
 To feel that flattery which attracts the proud 
 Rather by deference than compliment. 
 And wins even by a deHcate dissent. 
 
CANTO XV. DON JUAN. 317 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 And then he had good looks; — that point was carried 
 Nem. con. amongst the wonaen;, which I grieve 
 
 To say leads oft to crim. con. with the married — 
 A case which to the juries we may leave^ 
 
 Since with digressions we too long have tarried. 
 Now though we know of old that looks deceive, 
 
 And always have done, somehow these good looks 
 
 Make more impression than the best of books. 
 
 Lxxxv. 
 Aurora, who look'd more on books than faces. 
 
 Was very young, although so very sage, 
 Admiring more Minerva than the Graces, 
 
 Especially upon a printed page.- 
 But Virtue's self, with all her tightest laces. 
 
 Has not the natural stays of strict old age; 
 And Socrates, that model of all duty, 
 Own'd to a penchant, though discreet, for beauty. 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 And girls of sixteen are thus far Socratic, 
 
 But innocently so, as Socrates; 
 And really, if the sage sublime and Attic 
 
 At seventy years had phantasies like these. 
 Which Plato in his dialogues dramatic 
 
 Has shown, I know not why they should displease 
 In virgins — always in a modest way, 
 Obsevve; for that with me's a "sine qua."(«) 
 
318 DON JUAN. CANTO XV. 
 
 Also observe, that, like the great Lord Coke 
 (See Littleton), whene'er I have express'd 
 
 Opinions two, which at first sight may look 
 Twin opposites, the second is the best. 
 
 Perhaps I have a third too in a nook. 
 Or none at all — which seenas a sorry jest: 
 
 But if a writer should be quite consistent. 
 
 How could he possibly show things existent? 
 
 LXXXVIIT. 
 
 If people contradict themselves, can I 
 Help contradicting them, and every body. 
 
 Even my veracious self-f* — But that's a lie; 
 I never did so, never will — how should I ? 
 
 He who doubts all things, nothing can deny: [^muddy. 
 Truth's fountains may be clear — her streams are 
 
 And cut through such canals of contradiction. 
 
 That she must often navigate o'er fiction. 
 
 rxxxix. 
 
 Apologue, fable, poesy, and parable. 
 
 Are false, but may be render'd also true 
 
 By those who sow them in a land that's arable. 
 'Tis wonderful what fable will not do ! 
 
 'Tis said it makes reaUty more bearable: 
 But what's reality.'' Who has its clue.'* 
 
 Philosophy? No: she too much rejects. 
 
 Religion? Yes; but which of all her sects? 
 
CANTO XV. DON JUAN. 319 
 
 xc. 
 Some millions must be wrong, that's pretty clear; 
 
 Perhaps it may turn out that all were right. 
 God help us ! Since we have need on our career 
 
 To keep our holy beacons always bright, 
 'Tis time that some new prophet should appear. 
 
 Or old indulge man with a second sight. 
 Opinions wear out in some thousand years. 
 Without a small refreshment from the spheres. 
 
 xci, 
 But here again, why will I thus entangle 
 
 Myself with metaphysics? None can hate 
 So much as I do any kind of wrangle; 
 
 And yet, such is my folly, or my fate, 
 I always knock my head against some angle 
 
 About the present, past, or future state: 
 Yet I wish well to Trojan and to Tyrian, 
 For I was bred a moderate Presbyterian. 
 
 XCII. 
 
 But though T am a temperate theologian. 
 
 And also meek as a metaphysician. 
 Impartial between Tyrian and Trojan, 
 
 As Eldon on a lunatic commission, — 
 In politics my duty is to show John 
 
 Bull something of the lower world's condition. 
 It makes my blood boil like the springs of Hecla, 
 To see men let these scoundrel sovereigns break law. 
 
320 DON JUAN. CANTO xv. 
 
 XCIII. 
 
 But politics, and policy, and piety. 
 
 Are topics which I sometimes introduce. 
 
 Not only for the sake of their variety. 
 But as subservient to a moral use; 
 
 Because my business is to dress society. 
 
 And stuff with sage that very verdant goose. 
 
 And now, that we may furnish with some matter all 
 
 Tastes, we are going to try the supernatural. 
 
 xciv. 
 And now I will give up all argument ; 
 
 And positively henceforth no temptation 
 Shall "fool me to the top up of my bent:" — 
 
 Yes, I'll begin a thorough reformation. 
 Indeed I never knew what people meant 
 
 By deeming that my Muse's conversation 
 Was dangerous; — I think she is as harmless 
 As some who labour more and yet may charm less. 
 
 xcv. 
 Grim reader ! did you ever see a ghost ? 
 
 No; but you have heard — I understand — be dumb! 
 And don't regret the time you may have lost. 
 
 For you have got that pleasure still to come : 
 And do not think I mean to sneer at most 
 
 Of these things, or by ridicule benumb 
 That source of the sublime and the mysterious: — 
 For certain reasons, my belief is serious. 
 
CANTO XV. DON JUAN. 321 
 
 XCVI. 
 
 Serious .> You laugh; — you may: that will I not; 
 
 My smiles must be sincere or not at all. 
 1 say I do believe a haunted spot 
 
 Exists — and where? That shall I not recall. 
 Because I'd rather it should be forgot, 
 
 "Shadows the soul of Richard" may appal. 
 In short, upon that subject I've some qualms very 
 Like those of the philosopher of Malmsbury. (■'> 
 
 XCVII. 
 
 The night (I sing by night — sometimes an owl, 
 And now and then a nightingale) — is dim, 
 
 And the loud shriek of sage Minerva's fowl 
 Rattles around me her discordant hymn: 
 
 Old portraits from old walls upon me scowl — 
 I wish to heaven they would not look so grim; 
 
 The dying embers dwindle in the grate — 
 
 I think too that I have sate up too late : 
 
 XCVIII. 
 
 And therefore, though 'tis by no means my way 
 To rhyme at noon — when I have other things 
 
 To think of, if I ever think — I say 
 
 I feel some chilly midnight shudderings, 
 
 And prudently postpone, until mid-day. 
 Treating a topic which, alas ! but brings 
 
 Shadows; — but you must be in my condition j 
 
 Before you learn. to call this superstition. 1 
 
322 DON JUAN. canto xv. 
 
 xcix. 
 Between two worlds life hovers like a star, 
 
 'Twixt night and morn, upon the horizon's verge. 
 How little do we know that which we are ! 
 
 How less what we may be! The eternal surge 
 Of time and tide rolls on, and bears afar 
 
 Our bubbles; as the old burst, new emerge, 
 Lash'd from the foam of ages; while the graves 
 Of empires heave but hke some passing waves. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO XV. 
 
 Note 1, page 295, stanza xviii. 
 
 And thou, Diviner still, 
 Whose lot it is hy man to be mistaketi. 
 
 As it is necessary in these times to avoid ambiguity, I say 
 that I mean, by " Diviner still," Christ. If ever God was Man 
 —or Man God— he was both. I never arraigned his creed, but 
 the use — or abuse — made of it. Mr. Canning one day quoted 
 Christianity to sanction negro slavery, and Mr. Wilberforce 
 had little to say in reply. And was Christ crucified that black 
 men might be scourged ? If so, he had better been born a Mu- 
 latto, to give both colours an equal chance of freedom, or at 
 least salvation. 
 
 Note 2, page 300, stanza xxxv. 
 
 When Rapp the Harmonist embargo'd marriage 
 In his harmonious settlement. 
 
 This extraordinary and flourishing German colony in America 
 does not entirely exclude matrimony, as the " Shakers" do; but 
 lays such restrictions upon it as prevent more than a certain 
 quantum of births within a certain number of years ; which births 
 (as Mr. Hulme observes) generally arrive " in a little flock like 
 those of a farmer's lambs, all within the same month perhaps." 
 These Harmonists (so called from the name of their settlement) 
 are represented as a remarkably flourishing, pious, and quiet 
 people. See the various recent writers on America. 
 
 Note 3, page 301, stanza xxxviii. 
 
 'Tis not my purpose on his views to dwell. 
 Nor canvass what " so eminent a hand" m-;ant. 
 
 Jacob Tonson, according to Mr. Pops, was accustomed to call 
 his writers "able pens," "persons of honour," and especially 
 " eminent hands." Vide Correspondence, &c. &c. 
 
 Y 2 
 
324 NOTES TO CANTO XV. 
 
 Note 4, page 311, stanza Ixvl. 
 
 While great Lucullus (Robe triumphal) mi/ffles — 
 
 (There' f, fa.me)^!/ounic partridge fillets , deck'd ivith truffles. 
 
 A dish " a la Lucullus." This hero, who conquered the East, 
 has left his more extended celebrity to the transplantation of 
 cherries (which he first brought into Europe) and the nomen- 
 clature of some very good dishes ;— and I am not sure that (bar- 
 ring indigestion) he has not done more service to mankind by his 
 cookery than by his conquests. A cherry-tree may weigh against 
 a bloody laurel : besides, he has contrived to earn celebrity from 
 both. 
 
 Note 5, page 311, stanza Ixviii. 
 
 But even sans " confitures," it no less true is. 
 There's pretty picking in those " petits puits." 
 
 " Petits puits d'am.our garnis des confitures," a classical and 
 well-known dish for part of the flank of a second course. 
 
 Note 6, page 317, stanza Ixxxvi. 
 
 fur that ivith rue's a "sine qua." 
 
 Subauditur " 'Sun ;" omitted for the sake of euphony. 
 
 Note 7, page 321, stanza xcvi. 
 
 In short, upon that subject I've some qualms very 
 Like those of the philosopher of Malmsbury. 
 
 Hobbes; who, doubting of his own soul, paid that compliment 
 to the souls of other people as to decline their visits, of which he 
 had some apprehension. 
 
DON JUAN. 
 
 CANTO XVI. 
 
 I. 
 The antique Persians taught three useful things. 
 
 To draw the bow, to ride, and speak the truth. 
 This was the mode of Cyrus, best of kings — 
 
 A mode adopted since by modern youth. 
 Bows have they, generally with two strings ; 
 
 Horses they ride without remorse or ruth; 
 At speaking truth perhaps they are less clever. 
 But draw the long bow better now than ever. 
 
 II. 
 The cause of this qffect, or this defect, — 
 
 "For this effect defective comes by cause," — 
 Is what I have not leisure to inspect; 
 
 But this I must say in my own applause. 
 Of all the Muses that I recollect, 
 
 Whate'er may be her foUies or her flaws 
 In some things, mine's beyond all contradiction 
 The most sincere that ever dealt in fiction. 
 
326 DON JUAN. CAKTO xvi. 
 
 III. 
 And as she treats all things, and ne'er retreats 
 
 From any thing, this epic will contain 
 A wilderness of the most rare conceits. 
 
 Which you might elsewhere hope to find in vain. 
 'Tis true there be some bitters with the sweets. 
 
 Yet mix'd so slightly that you can't complain. 
 But wonder they so few are, since my tale is 
 "De rebus cunctis et quibusdam ahis." 
 
 IV. 
 
 ^ut of all truths which she has told, the most 
 True is that which she is about to tell. 
 
 I said it was a story of a ghost — > 
 What then .f* I only know it so befell. 
 
 Have you explored the limits of the coast. 
 Where aU the dwellers of the earth must dwell? 
 
 'Tis time to strike such puny doubters dumb as 
 
 The sceptics who would not beheve Columbus. 
 
 V. 
 
 Some people would impose now with authority, 
 Turpin's or Monmouth GeofFry's Chronicle; 
 
 Men whose historical superiority 
 Is always greatest at a miracle. 
 
 But Saint Augustine has the great priority. 
 Who bids all men believe the impossible. 
 
 Because 'tis so. Who nibble, scribble, quibble, he 
 
 Quiets at once with "guia impossibile." 
 
CANTO XVI. DON JUAN. 
 
 327 
 
 VI. 
 
 And therefore, mortals, cavil not at all; 
 
 Believe: — if 'tis improbable, you must; 
 And if it is impossible, you shall: 
 
 'Tis always best to take things upon trust. 
 I do not speak profanely, to recall 
 
 Those hoher mysteries which the wise and just 
 Receive as gospel, and which grow more rooted. 
 As all truths must, the more they are disputed. 
 
 VII. 
 
 I merely mean to say what Johnson said. 
 That in the course of some six thousand years. 
 
 All nations have believed that from the dead 
 A visitant at intervals appears; 
 
 And what is strangest upon this strange head. 
 Is, that whatever bar the reason rears 
 
 'Gainst such beUef, there's something stronger still 
 
 In its behalf, let those deny who will. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The dinner and the soiree too were done. 
 The supper too discuss' d, the dames admired. 
 
 The banqueteers had dropp'd off one by one — 
 The song was silent, and the dance expired: 
 
 The last thin petticoats were vanish'd, gone 
 Like fleecy clouds into the sky retired, 
 
 And nothing brighter gleam'd through the saloon 
 
 Than dying tapers — and the peeping moon. 
 
328 DON JUAN. canto xvi. 
 
 IX. 
 
 The evaporation of a joyous day 
 
 Is like the last glass of champagne^ without 
 The foam which made its virgin bumper gay; 
 
 Or like a system coupled with a doubt; 
 Or like a soda bottle when its spray 
 
 Has sparkled and let half its spirit out; 
 Or like a billow left by storms behind. 
 Without the animation of the wind; 
 
 X. 
 
 Or like an opiate which brings troubled rest, 
 Or none; or like — like nothing that I know 
 
 Except itself; — such is the human breast; 
 A thing, of which similitudes can show 
 
 No real likeness, — like the old Tyrian vest 
 Dyed purple, none at present can tell how. 
 
 If from a shell-fish or from cochineal."* 
 
 So perish every tyrant's robe piece-meal ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 But next to dressing for a rout or ball. 
 Undressing is a woe ; our robe de chambre 
 
 May sit like that of Nessus, and recall 
 
 Thoughts quite as yellow, but less clear than amber. 
 
 Titus exclaim'd "iVe lost a day!" Of all 
 
 The nights and days most people can remember 
 
 (I have had of both, some not to be disdain'd), 
 
 I wish they'd state how many they have gain'd. 
 
CANTO XVI. DON JUAN. ' 329 
 
 XII. 
 
 And Juan, on retiring for the night. 
 
 Felt restless^ and perplex'd, and compromised: 
 
 He thought Aurora Raby's eyes more bright 
 Than Adehne (such is advice) advised; 
 
 If he had known exactly his own plight, 
 He probably would have philosophised ; 
 
 A great resource to aU, and ne'er denied 
 
 TiU wanted ; therefore Juan only sigh'd. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 He sigh'd; — the next resource is the full moon. 
 Where all sighs are deposited; and now 
 
 It happen'd luckily, the chaste orb shone 
 As clear as such a climate will allow ; 
 
 And Juan s mind was in the proper tone 
 
 To hail her with the apostrophe — "O thou!" I 
 
 Of amatory egotism the Tuisni, 
 
 "Which further to explain would be a truism. I 
 
 XIV. 
 
 But lover, poet, or astronomer. 
 
 Shepherd, or swain, whoever may behold. 
 
 Feel some abstraction when they gaze on her : 
 Great thoughts we catch from thence (besides a cold 
 
 Sometimes, unless my feelings rather err); 
 Deep secrets to her rolling light are told; 
 
 The ocean's tides and mortals' brains she sways. 
 
 And also hearts, if there be truth in lays, 
 
330 ' DON JUAN. canto xvi. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Juan felt somewhat pensive^ and disposed 
 For contemplation rather than his pillow: 
 
 The Gothic chamber, where he was enclosed. 
 Let in the rippling sound of the lake's billow. 
 
 With all the mystery by midnight caused: 
 
 Below his window waved (of course) a willow; 
 
 And he stood gazing out on the cascade 
 
 That flash'd and after darken'd in the shade. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Upon his table or his toilet, — which 
 
 Of these is not exactly ascertain' d — 
 (I state this, for I am cautious to a pitch 
 
 Of nicety, where a fact is to be gain'd) 
 A lamp burn'd high, while he leant from a niche. 
 
 Where many a Gothic ornament remain' d. 
 In chisell'd stone and painted glass, and all 
 That time has left our fathers of their hall. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Then, as the night was clear though cold, he threw 
 His chamber door wide open — and went forth 
 
 Into a gallery, of a sombre hue. 
 
 Long, fui-nish'd with old pictures of great worth. 
 
 Of knights and dames heroic and chaste too. 
 As doubtless should be people of high birth. 
 
 But by dim lights the portraits of the dead 
 
 Have something ghastly, desolate, and dread. 
 
CANTO XVI. DON JUAN. 331 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 The forms of the grim knight and pictured saint 
 Look living in the moon; and as you turn 
 
 Backward and forward to the echoes faint 
 Of your own footsteps — voices from the urn 
 
 Appear to wake^ and shadows wild and quaint 
 
 Start from the frames which fence their aspects stern. 
 
 As if to ask how you can dare to keep 
 
 A vigil there^ where all but death should sleep. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 And the pale smile of beauties in the grave. 
 The charms of other days, in starlight gleams. 
 
 Glimmer on high ; their buried locks still wave 
 Along the canvas; their eyes glance like dreams 
 
 On ours, or spars within some dusky cave. 
 But death is imaged in their shadowy beams. 
 
 A picture is the past; even ere its frame 
 
 Be gilt, who sate hath ceased to be the same. 
 
 XX. 
 
 As Juan mused on mutabiUty, 
 
 Or on his mistress — terms synonymous — 
 No sound except the echo of his sigh 
 
 Or step ran sadly through that antique house; 
 When suddenly he heard, or thought so, nigh, 
 
 A supernatural agent — or a mouse. 
 Whose little nibbling rustle wiU embarrass 
 Most people as it plays along the arras. 
 
332 DON JUAN, canto xvi, 
 
 XXI. 
 
 It was no mouse^ but lo! a monk^ array'd 
 
 In cowl and beads^ and dusky garb^ appear'd. 
 
 Now in the moonlight^ and now lapsed in shade. 
 With steps that trod as heavy, yet unheard; 
 
 His garments only a slight murmur made; 
 He moved as shadowy as the sisters weird. 
 
 But slowly; and as he passed Juan by. 
 
 Glanced, without pausing, on him a bright eye. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Juan was petrified; he had heard a hint 
 
 Of such a spirit in these halls of old. 
 But thought, like most men, there was nothing in't 
 
 Beyond the rumour which such spots unfold, 
 Coin'd from surviving superstition's mint. 
 
 Which passes ghosts in currency hke gold. 
 But rarely seen, like gold compared with paper. 
 And did he see this.'' or was it a vapour .f" 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Once, twice, thrice pass'd, repass'd — the thing of air. 
 Or earth beneath, or heaven, or t'other place; 
 
 And Juan gazed upon it with a stare. 
 
 Yet could not speak or move; but, on its base 
 
 As stands a statue, stood: he felt his hair 
 Twine like a knot of snakes around his face; 
 
 He tax'd his tongue for words, which were not granted. 
 
 To ask the reverend person what he wanted. 
 
CANTO XVI. DON JUAN. 333 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 The third time, after a still longer pause. 
 
 The shadow pass'd away — but where.? the hall 
 
 Was long, and thus far there was no great cause 
 To think his vanishing unnatural : 
 
 Doors there were many, through which, by the laws 
 Of physics, bodies whether short or tall 
 
 Might come or go; but Juan could not state 
 
 Through which the spectre seem'd to evaporate. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 He stood — how long he knew not, but it seem'd 
 An age — expectant, powerless, with his eyes 
 
 Strain'd on the spot where first the figure gleam'd ; 
 Then by degrees recall'd his energies. 
 
 And would have pass'd the whole off as a dream. 
 But could not wake; he was, he did surmise. 
 
 Waking already, and return'd at length 
 
 Back to his chamber, shorn of half his strength. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 All there was as he left it : still his taper 
 Burnt, and not blue, as modest tapers use. 
 
 Receiving sprites with sympathetic vapour; 
 He rubb'd his eyes, and they did not refuse 
 
 Their office; he took up an old newspaper; 
 The paper was right easy to peruse; 
 
 He read an article the king attacking. 
 
 And a long eulogy of "^'patent blacking." | 
 
334 DON JUAN. CANTO xvi. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 This savour'd of this world; but his hand shook — 
 He shut his door, and after having read 
 
 A paragraph, I think about Home Tooke, 
 Undrest, and rather slowly went to bed. 
 
 There, couch'd all snugly on his pillow's nook. 
 With what he had seen his phantasy he fed; 
 
 And though it was no opiate, slumber crept 
 
 Upon him by degrees, and so he slept. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 He woke betimes; and, as may be supposed, 
 
 Ponder'd upon his visitant or vision. 
 And whether it ought not to be disclosed. 
 
 At risk of being quizz'd for superstition. 
 The more he thought, the more his mind was posed : 
 
 In the mean time, his valet, whose precision 
 Was great, because his master brook'd no less, 
 Knock'd to inform him it was time to di'ess. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 He dress'd; and like young people he was wont 
 To take some trouble with his toilet, but 
 
 This morning rather spent less time upon't; 
 Aside his very mirror soon was put; 
 
 His curls fell negligently o'er his front. 
 
 His clothes were not curb'd to their usual cut. 
 
 His very neckcloth's Gordian knot was tied 
 
 Almost an hair's breadth too much on one side. 
 
CANTO XVI. DON JUAN. 335 
 
 XXX. 
 
 And when he walk'd down into the saloon^ t 
 
 He sate him pensive o'er a dish of tea. 
 
 Which he perhaps had not discovered soon. 
 Had it not happen'd scalding hot to be, 
 
 Which made him have recourse unto his spoon; / 
 So much distrait he was, that all could see 
 
 That something was the matter — Adeline 
 
 The first — but what she could not well divine. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 She look'd, and saw him pale, and turn'd as pale | 
 Herself; then hastily look'd down, and mutter'd 
 
 Something, but what's not stated in my tale. 
 Lord Henry said, his muffin was iU butter'd; 
 
 The Duchess of Fitz-Fulke play'd with her veil. 
 And look'd at Juan hard, but nothing utter'd. 
 
 Aurora Raby with her large dark eyes 
 
 Survey'd him with a kind of calm surprise. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 But seeing him all cold and silent still,. 
 
 And every body wondering more or less, 
 Fair Adeline inquired, ^'If he were iU.}" 
 
 He started, and said, "Yes— no — rather — yes." 
 The family physician had great skill, 
 
 And being present, now began to express 
 His readiness to feel his pulse and tell 
 The cause, but Juan said, "He was quite well." 
 
336 DON JUAN, canto xvi. 
 
 " Quite well ; y es^ no." — These answers were mysterious. 
 And yet his looks appear'd to sanction both. 
 
 However they might savour of delirious; 
 Something like illness of a sudden growth 
 
 Weigh'd on his spirit, though by no means serious: 
 But for the rest, as he himself seem'd loth 
 
 To state the case, it might be ta'en for granted 
 
 It was not the physician that he wanted. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Lord Henry, who had now discuss'd his chocolate. 
 Also the muffin whereof he complain' d. 
 
 Said, Juan had not got his usual look elate. 
 At which he marvell'd, since it had not rain'd ; 
 
 Then ask'dher grace what news wereof the duke of late? 
 Her grace replied, his grace was rather pain'd 
 
 With some slight, light, hereditary twinges 
 
 Of gout, which rusts aristocratic hinges. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Then Henry turn'd to Juan, and address'd 
 A few words of condolence on his state: 
 
 "You look," quoth he, "as if you had had your rest 
 Broke in upon by the Black Friar of late." 
 
 "What friar?" said Juan; and he did his best 
 To put the question with an air sedate. 
 
 Or careless; but the effort was not valid 
 
 To hinder him from growing still more pallid. 
 
CANTO XVI. DON JUAN. 337 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 "Oh! have you never heard of the Black Friar? 
 
 The spirit of these walls?"— ^^n truth not I." 
 "Why Fame — but Fame youknow 'ssometimesaliar — 
 
 Tells an odd story, of which by the bye: 
 Whether with time the spectre has grown shyer, 
 
 Or that our sires had a more gifted eye 
 For such sights, though the tale is half believed. 
 The friar of late has not been oft perceived. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 "The last time was " "I pray," said Adeline — 
 
 (Who watch'd the changes of Don Juan's brow. 
 
 And from its context thought she could divine 
 Connexions stronger than he chose to avow 
 
 With this same legend) — "if you but design 
 To jest, you'll choose some other theme just now. 
 
 Because the present tale has oft been told. 
 
 And is not much improved by growing old." 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 "Jest!" quoth Milor, "^why, Adeline, you know 
 That we ourselves — 'twas in the honey moon — 
 
 Saw " '' Well, no matter, 'twas so long ago ; 
 
 But, come, I '11 set your story to a tune." 
 
 Graceful as Dian, when she draws her bow. 
 She seized her harp, whose strings were kindled soon 
 
 As touch' d, and plaintively began to play 
 
 The air of "'Twas a Friar of Orders Gray." 
 
 VOL. II. z 
 
338 DON JUAN. canto xvi. 
 
 "But add the words/' cried Henry, ''whicli you made; 
 
 For Adeline is half a poetess," 
 Turning round to the rest, he smiling said. 
 
 Of course the others could not but express 
 In courtesy their wish to see display'd 
 
 By one three talents, for there were no less — - 
 The voice, the words, the harper's skill, at once 
 Could hardly be united by a dunce. 
 
 XL. 
 
 After some fascinating hesitation, — 
 
 The charming of these charmers, who seem Ijound, 
 I can't tell why, to this dissimulation, — 
 
 Fair AdeUne, with eyes fix'd on the ground 
 At first, then kindling into animation. 
 
 Added her sweet voice to the lyric sound. 
 And sang with much simplicity, — a merit 
 Not the less precious, that we seldom hear it. 
 
 1. 
 
 Beware ! beware ! of the Black Friar, 
 
 Who sitteth by Norman stone. 
 For he mutters his prayer in the midnight air. 
 
 And his mass of the days that are gone. 
 When the Lord of the Hill, Amundeville, 
 
 IMade Norman Church his prey. 
 And expeli'd the friars, one friar still 
 
 Would not be driven away. 
 
CANTO XVI. DON JUAN. 339 
 
 Though he came in his mighty with King Henry's right. 
 
 To turn church lands to lay. 
 With sword in hand, and torch to light 
 
 Their walls, if they said nay; 
 A monk remain' d, unchased, unchain'd, 
 
 And he did not seem form'd of clay. 
 For he's seen in the porch, and he's seen in the church, 
 
 Though he is not seen by day. 
 
 3. 
 And whether for good, or whether for ill, 
 
 It is not mine to say; 
 But still to the house of Amundeville 
 
 He abideth night and day. 
 By the marriage-bed of their lords, 'tis said. 
 
 He flits on the bridal eve; 
 And 'tis held as faith, to their bed of death 
 
 He comes — but not to grieve. 
 
 4. 
 When an heir is born, he's heard to mourn. 
 
 And when aught is to befall 
 That ancient line, in the pale moonshine 
 
 He walks from hall to hall. 
 His form you may trace, but not his face, 
 
 'Tis shadow'd by his cowl ; 
 But his eyes may be seen from the folds between. 
 
 And they seem of a parted soul. 
 
 z2 
 
340 DON JUAN. canto xvi. 
 
 5. 
 But beware ! beware ! of the Black Friar, 
 
 He still retains his sway. 
 For he is yet the church's heir 
 
 Whoever may be the lay. 
 Amundeville is lord by day. 
 
 But the monk is lord by night; 
 Nor wine nor wassail could raise a vassal 
 
 To question that friar's right. 
 
 6. 
 Say nought to him as he walks the hall. 
 
 And he'll say nought to you; 
 He sweeps along in his dusky pall. 
 
 As o'er the grass the dew. 
 Then grammercy! for the Black Friar; 
 
 Heaven sain him ! fair or foul. 
 And whatsoe'er may be his prayer. 
 
 Let ours be for his soul. 
 
 XLT. 
 
 The lady's voice ceased, and the thrilling wires 
 Died from the touch that kindled them to sound; 
 
 And the pause follow' d, which when song expires 
 Pervades a moment those who listen round; 
 
 And then of course the circle much admires. 
 Nor less applauds, as in politeness bound. 
 
 The tones, the feeling, and the execution. 
 
 To the performer's diffident confusion. 
 
CANTO XVI. DON JUAN. 34. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 Fair Adelincj though in a careless way. 
 
 As if she rated such accompHshment 
 As the mere pastime of an idle day. 
 
 Pursued an instant for her own content. 
 Would now and then as 'twere without display. 
 
 Yet with display in fact, at times relent 
 To such performances with haughty smile. 
 To show she could, if it were worth her while. 
 
 Now this (but we will whisper it aside) 
 Was — pardon the pedantic illustration — 
 
 Trampling on Plato's pride with greater pride. 
 As did the Cynic on some like occasion; 
 
 Deeming the sage would be much mortified. 
 Or thrown into a philosophic passion. 
 
 For a spoilt carpet — but the "Attic Bee" 
 
 Was much consoled by his own repartee. (2) 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 Thus Adeline would throw into the shade 
 
 (By doing easily whene'er she chose. 
 What dilettanti do with vast parade) 
 
 Their sort oi half profession ; for it grows 
 To something like this when too oft display'd ; 
 
 And that it is so, every body knows. 
 Who have heard Miss That or This, or Lady T'other, 
 Show off— to please their company or mother. 
 
342 DON JUAN. CANTO xvi. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 Oh! the long evenings of duets and trios! 
 
 The admirations and the speculations; 
 The "Mamma Mia's!" and the "Amor Mio's!" 
 
 The "Tanti palpiti's" on such occasions. 
 The "Lasciami's," and quavering "Addio's!" 
 
 Amongst our own most musical of nations; 
 With "Tu mi chamas's" from Portingale, 
 To soothe our ears^ lest Italy should fail. (3> 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 In Babylon's bravuras — as the home 
 
 Heart-ballads of Green Erin or Gray Highlands, 
 That bring Lochaber back to eyes that roam 
 
 O'er far Atlantic continents or islands. 
 The calentures of music which o'ercome [lands, 
 
 All mountaineers with dreams that they are nigh 
 No more to be beheld but in such visions — 
 Was Adeline well versed, as compositions. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 She also had a twilight tinge of "Blue," [^wrote; 
 
 Could write rhymes, and compose more than she 
 Made epigrams occasionally too 
 
 Upon her friends, as every body ought. 
 But stiU from that subhmer azure hue. 
 
 So much the present dye, she was remote; 
 Was weak enough to deem Pope a great poet. 
 And what was worse, was not ashamed to show it. 
 
CANTO XVI. DON JUAN. 343 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 Aurora — since we are touching upon taste. 
 Which now-a-days is the thermometer 
 
 By whose degrees all characters are class'd — 
 Was more Shakspearian^ if I do not err. 
 
 The worlds beyond this world's perplexing waste 
 Had more of her existence, for in her 
 
 There was a depth of feehng to embrace 
 
 Thoughts, boundless, deep, but silent too as Space. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 Not so her gracious, graceful, graceless grace. 
 The full-grown Hebe of Fitz-Fulke, whose mind. 
 
 If she had any, was upon her face. 
 And that was of a fascinating kind. 
 
 A little turn for mischief you might trace 
 Also thereon,— but that's not much; we find 
 
 Few females without some such gentle leaven, I 
 
 For fear we should suppose us quite in heaven. I 
 
 L. 
 
 I have not heard she was at aU poetic. 
 
 Though once she was seen reading the "Bath Guide," 
 And "Hayley's Triumphs," which she deem'd pathetic, 
 
 Because, she said, her temper had been tried 
 So much, the bard had really been prophetic 
 
 Of what she had gone through with — since a bride. 
 But of all verse, what most ensured her praise 
 Were sonnets to herself, or "bouts rimes." 
 
344 DON JUAN. canto xvi. 
 
 LI. 
 
 'Twere difficult to say what was the object 
 Of Adehne, in bringing this same lay 
 
 To bear on what appear'd to her the subject 
 Of Juan's nervous feelings on that day. 
 
 Perhaps she merely had the simple project 
 To laugh him out of his supposed dismay; 
 
 Perhaps she might wish to confirm him in it^ 
 
 Though why I cannot say — at least this minute. 
 
 LII. 
 
 But so far the immediate eflPect 
 
 Was to restore him to his self-propriety, 
 
 A thing quite necessary to the elect. 
 
 Who wish to take the tone of their society : 
 
 In which you cannot be too circumspect. 
 Whether the mode be persiflage or piety. 
 
 But wear the newest mantle of hjrpocrisy. 
 
 On pain of much displeasing the gynocracy. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 And therefore Juan now began to rally 
 His spirits, and without more explanation 
 
 To jest upon such themes in many a saUy. 
 Her grace too also seized the same occasion. 
 
 With various similar remarks to tally. 
 
 But wish'd for a stiU more detaiFd narration 
 
 Of this same mystic friar's curious doings. 
 
 About the present family's deaths and wooings. 
 
CANTO XVI. DON JUAN. 345 
 
 LIV. 
 
 Of these few could say more than has been said; 
 
 They pass'd as such things do, for superstition 
 With some, while others, who had more in dread 
 
 The theme, half credited the strange tradition; 
 And much was talk'd on all sides on that head: 
 
 But Juan, when cross-question'd on the vision. 
 Which some supposed (though he had not avow'd it) 
 Had stirr'd him, answer'd in a way to cloud it. 
 
 LV. 
 
 And then, the mid-day having worn to one, [ 
 
 The company prepared to separate; 
 Some to their several pastimes, or to none. 
 
 Some wondering 'twas so early, some so late. I 
 
 There was a goodly match too, to be run 
 
 Between some greyhounds on my lord's estate^ 
 And a young race-horse of old pedigree, 
 Match'd for the spring, whom several went to see. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 There was a picture- dealer who had brought 
 
 A special Titian, warranted original. 
 So precious that it was not to be bought. 
 
 Though princes the possessor were besieging all. 
 The king himself had cheapened it, but thought 
 
 The civil list (he deigns to accept, obliging all 
 His subjects by his gracious acceptation) 
 Too scanty, in these times of low taxation. 
 
346 DON JUAN. CANTO xvr. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 But as Lord Henry was a connoisseur^ — 
 
 The friend of artists^ if not arts^ — the owner, 
 
 With motives the most classical and pure. 
 
 So that he would have been the very donor, ■ 
 
 Rather than seller, had his wants been fewer. 
 So much he deem'd his patronage an honour. 
 
 Had brought the capo d' opera, not for sale. 
 
 But for his judgment — never knovm to fail. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 There was a modern Goth, I mean a Gothic 
 
 Bricklayer of Babel, call'd an architect, |^thick. 
 
 Brought to survey these gray walls, which though so 
 Might have from time acquired some slight defect; 
 
 Who after rummaging the Abbey through thick 
 And thin, produced a plan whereby to erect 
 
 New buildings of correctest conformation. 
 
 And throw down old, which he call'd restoration. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 The cost would be a trifle— an "^old song," 
 Set to some thousands ('tis the usual burden 
 
 Of that same tune, when people hum it long) — 
 The price would speedily repay its worth in 
 
 An edifice no less sublime than strong. 
 
 By which Lord Henry's good taste would go forth in 
 
 Its glory, through all ages shining sunny. 
 
 For Gothic daring shown in EngHsh money. (■*)- 
 
CANTO XVI. DON JUAN. 347 
 
 LX. 
 
 There were two lawyers busy on a mortgage 
 
 Lord Henry wish'd to raise for a new purchase; 
 
 Also a lawsuit upon tenures burgage^ 
 
 And one on tithes, which sure are Discord's torches. 
 
 Kindling Religion till she throws down her gage, 
 "Untying" squires "^ to fight againstthe churches;" ^■'^) 
 
 There was a prize ox, a prize pig, and ploughman. 
 
 For Henry was a sort of Sabine showman. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 There were two poachers caught in a steel trap, 
 Ready for jail, their place of convalescence; 
 
 There was a country girl in a close cap 
 And scarlet cloak (I hate the sight to see, since— 
 
 Since— since — in youth, I had the sad mishap — 
 But luckily I have paid few parish fees since): 
 
 That scarlet cloak, alas! unclosed with rigour, 
 
 Presents the problem of a double figure. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 A reel within a bottle is a mystery, 
 One can't tell how it e'er got in or out; 
 
 Therefore the present piece of natural history 
 1 leave to those who are fond of solving doubt; 
 
 And merely state, though not for the consistory. 
 Lord Henry was a justice, and that Scout 
 
 The constable, beneath a warrant's banner, 
 
 Had bagg'd this poacher upon Nature's manor. 
 
348 DON JUAN. CANTO XVI- 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 Now justices of peace must judge all pieces 
 Of mischief of all kinds, and keep the game 
 
 And morals of the country from caprices 
 
 Of those who have not a Ucence for the same; 
 
 And of all things, excepting tithes and leases. 
 Perhaps these are most difficult to tame: 
 
 Preserving partridges and pretty wenches 
 
 Are puzzles to the most precautious benches. 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 The present culprit was extremely pale. 
 Pale as if painted so; her cheek being red 
 
 By nature, as in higher dames less hale 
 
 'Tis white, at least when they just rise from bed. 
 
 Perhaps she was ashamed of seeming frail, 
 Poor soul ! for she was country born and bred. 
 
 And knew no better in her immorality 
 
 Than to wax white — for blushes are for quahty. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 Her black, bright, downcast, yet espiegle eye. 
 Had gather d a large tear into its corner. 
 
 Which the poor thing at times essay'd to dry. 
 For she was not a sentimental mourner. 
 
 Parading all her sensibility. 
 Nor insolent enough to scorn the scorner. 
 
 But stood in trembling, patient tribiilation. 
 
 To be call'd up for her exaoiination. 
 
CANTO XVI. DON JUAN. 349 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 Of course these groups were scatter'd here and there. 
 Not nigh the gay saloon of ladies gent. 
 
 The lawyers in the study ; and in air 
 
 The prize pig, ploughman, poachers; the men sent 
 
 From town, viz. architect and dealer, were 
 Both husy (as a general in his tent 
 
 Writing despatches) in their several stations. 
 
 Exulting in their brilliant lucubrations. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 But this poor girl was left in the great hall. 
 While Scout, the parish guardian of the frail, 
 
 Discuss'd (he hated beer yclept the "small") 
 A mighty mug of moral double ale. 
 
 She waited until Justice could recall 
 Its kind attentions to their proper pale, 
 
 To name a thing in nomenclature rather 
 
 Perplexing for most virgins — a child's father. 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 You see here was enough of occupation 
 
 For the Lord Henry, link'd with dogs and horses. 
 There was much bustle too and preparation 
 
 Belov/^ stairs on the score of second courses; 
 Because, as suits their rank and situation. 
 
 Those who in counties have great laud resources 
 Have "public days/' when all men may carouse, 
 Though not exactly what's called "open house." 
 
350 DON JUAN. CANTO XVI. 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 But once a week or fortnight, wTiinvited 
 (Thus we translate a general invitatioii) 
 
 All country gentlemen, esquired or knighted, 
 
 May drop in without cards, and take their station 
 
 At the full board, and sit alike delighted 
 With fashionable wines and conversation; 
 
 And, as the isthmus of the grand connexion, 
 
 Talk o'er themselves, the past and next election. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 Lord Henry was a great electioneerer. 
 
 Burrowing for boroughs like a rat or rabbit. 
 
 But county contests cost him rather dearer. 
 
 Because the neighbouring Scotch Earl of Giftgabbit 
 
 Had English influence, in the self-same sphere here; 
 His son, the Honourable Dick Dicedrabbit, 
 
 Was member for the ""^other interest" (meaning 
 
 The same self-interest, with a different leaning). 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 Courteous and cautious therefore in his county. 
 He was all things to all men, and dispensed 
 
 To some civility, to others bounty, 
 
 And promises to all — which last commenced 
 
 To gather to a somewhat large amount, he 
 Not calculating how much they condensed; 
 
 But what with keeping some, and breaking others. 
 
 His word had the same value as another's. 
 
CANTO XVI. DON JUAN. 05 J 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 A friend to freedom and freeholders yet 
 
 No less a friend to government — he held. 
 
 That he exactly the just medium hit 
 'Twixt place and patriotism — albeit compell'd. 
 
 Such was his sovereign's pleasure (though unfit. 
 He added modestly, when rebels rail'd) 
 
 To hold some sinecures he wish'd abolish'd. 
 
 But that with them all law would be demolish'd. 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 He was "free to confess" — (whence comes this phrase? 
 
 Is't English? No — 'tis only parliamentary) 
 That innovation's spirit now-a-days 
 
 Had made more progress than for the last century. 
 He would not tread a factious path to praise. 
 
 Though for the public weal disposed to venture high ; 
 As for his place, he could but say this of it, 
 That the fatigue was greater than the profit. 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 Heaven, and his friends, knew that a private life 
 Had ever been his sole and whole ambition; 
 
 But could he quit his king in times of strife 
 Which threaten'd the whole country with perdition? 
 
 When demagogues would with a butcher's knife 
 Cut through and through (oh! damnable incision!) 
 
 The Gordian or the Geordi-an knot, whose strings 
 
 Have tied together commons, lords, and kings, 
 t 
 
352 DON JUAN. CANTO xvi. 
 
 EXXV. 
 
 Sooner " come place into the civil list 
 
 And champion him to the utmost — "he would keep it. 
 Till duly disappointed or dismiss'd: 
 
 Profit he cared not for, let others reap it; 
 But should the day come when place ceased to exist. 
 
 The country would have far more cause to weep it: 
 For how could it go on? Explain who can! 
 He gloried in the name of Englishman. 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 He was as independent — ay, much more — 
 
 Than those who were not paid for independence, 
 
 As common soldiers, or a common shore. 
 
 Have in their several arts or parts ascendance 
 
 O'er the irregulars in lust or gore. 
 
 Who do not give professional attendance. 
 
 Thus on the mob all statesmen are as eager 
 
 To prove their pride, as footmen to a beggar. 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 AU this (save the last stanza) Henry said. 
 
 And thought. I say no more — I've said too much; 
 
 For all of us have either heard or read 
 Of — or upon the hustings — some slight such 
 
 Hints from the independent heart or head 
 Of the official candidate. I'll touch 
 
 No more on this — the dinner-bell hath rung. 
 
 And grace is said; the grace I should have sung — 
 
CANTO XVI. DON JUAN. 
 
 353 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 But I'm too late^ and therefore must make play. 
 
 'Twas a great banquet^ such as Albion old 
 Was wont to boast — as if a glutton's tray 
 
 Were something very glorious to behold- 
 But 'twas a public feast and public dayj — 
 
 Quite fuUj right duUj guests hot, and dishes cold. 
 Great plenty, much formality, small cheer. 
 And every body out of their own sphere. 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 The squires famiharly formal, and 
 My lords and ladies proudly condescending; 
 
 The very servants puzzling how to hand 
 Their plates— without it might be too much bending 
 
 From their high places by the sideboard's stand — 
 Yet, like their masters, fearful of offending. 
 
 for any deviation from the graces I 
 
 Might cost both men and master too — their places. ' 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 There were some hunters bold, and coursers keen,' 
 Whose hounds ne'er, err'd, nor greyhounds deign'd 
 
 Some deadly shots too, Septembrizers, seen [to lurch ; 
 Earhest to rise, and last to quit the search 
 
 Of the poor partridge through his stubble screen. 
 There were some massy members of the church. 
 
 Takers of tithes, and makers of good matches. 
 
 And several who sung fewer psalms than catches. 
 
 VOL. II, A A 
 
354 DON JUAN. canto xvi. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 There were some country wags too — and, alas ! 
 
 Some exiles from the town, who had been driven 
 To gaze, instead of pavement, upon grass. 
 
 And rise at nine in lieu of long eleven. 
 And lo ! upon that day it came to pass, 
 
 I sate next that o'erwhelming son of heaven. 
 The very powerful parson, Peter Pith, 
 The loudest wit I e'er was deafen'dwith. 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 I knew him in his livelier London days, 
 A brilliant diner out, though but a curate ; 
 
 And not a joke he cut but earn'd its praise. 
 Until preferment, coming at a sure rate, 
 
 (O Providence ! how wondrous are thy ways. 
 Who would suppose thy gifts sometimes obdurate?) 
 
 Gave him, to lay the devil who looks o'er Lincoln, 
 
 A fat fen vicarage, and nought to think on. 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 His jokes -were sermons, and his sermons jokes; 
 
 But both were thrown away amongst the fens; 
 For wit hath no great friend in aguish folks. 
 
 No longer ready ears and short-hand pens 
 Imbibed the gay bon mot, or happy hoax : 
 
 The poor priest was reduced to common sense, 
 Or to coarse efforts very loud and long. 
 To hammer a hoarse laugh from the thick throng. 
 
CANTO XVI. DON JUAN. ^ 355 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 There is a difference;, says the song, " between 
 A beggar and a queen/' or was (of late 
 
 The latter worse used of the two we 've seen — 
 But we '11 say nothing of affairs of state) 
 
 A difference "'twixt a bishop and a dean^" 
 A difference between crockery ware and plate. 
 
 As between English beef and Spartan broth — 
 
 And yet great heroes have been bred by both. 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 But of all nature's discrepancies, none 
 Upon the whole is greater than the difference 
 
 Beheld between the country and the town. 
 Of which the latter merits every preference 
 
 From those who have few resources of their own. 
 And only think, or act, or feel, with reference 
 
 To some small plan of interest or ambition — 
 
 Both which are limited to no condition. 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 But '"en avant!" The light loves languish o'er 
 Long banquets and too many guests, although 
 
 A slight repast makes people love much more, 
 Bacchus and Ceres being, as we know. 
 
 Even from our grammar upwards, friends of yore 
 With vivifying Venus, who doth owe 
 
 To these the invention of champagne and truffles: 
 
 Temperance delights her, but long fasting ruffles. 
 
 A A 2 
 
356 DON JUAN. canto xvi. 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 Dully past o'er the dinner of the day ; 
 
 And Juan took his place, he knew not where, 
 Confused, in the confusion, and distrait, 
 
 And sitting as if nail'd upon his chair: 
 Though knives and forks clang'd round as in a fray, 
 
 He seem'd unconscious of all passing there. 
 Till some one, with a groan, exprest a wish 
 (Unheeded twice) to have a fin of fish. 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 On which, at the third asking of the bans. 
 He started; and perceiving smiles around 
 
 Broadening to grins, he colour'd more than once, 
 And hastily — as nothing can confound 
 
 A wise man more than laughter from a dunce — 
 Inflicted on the dish a deadly wound. 
 
 And with such hurry, that ere he could curb it. 
 
 He had paid his neighbour's prayer with half a turbot. 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 This was no bad mistake, as it occurr'd. 
 
 The supphcator being an amateur; 
 But others, who were left with scarce a third. 
 
 Were angry — as they well might, to be sure. 
 They wonder'd how a young man so absurd 
 
 Lord Henry at his table should endure; 
 And this, and his not knowing how much oats 
 Had fallen last market, cost his host three votes. 
 
CANTO XVI. DON JUAN. 357 
 
 xc. 
 
 They little knew, or might have sympathized. 
 That he the night before had seen a ghost, 
 
 A prologue which but slightly harmonized 
 With the substantial company engross'd 
 
 By matter, and so much materiahzed. 
 
 That one scarce knew at what to marvel most 
 
 Of two things — how (the question rather odd is) I 
 
 Such bodies could have souls, or souls such bodies. ' 
 
 xci. 
 But what confused him more than smile or stare 
 
 From all the 'squires and 'squiresses around. 
 Who wonder'd at the abstraction of his air. 
 
 Especially as he had been reiiown'd 
 For some vivacity among the fair. 
 
 Even in the country circle's narrow bound — 
 (For little things upon my lord's estate 
 Were good small talk for others still less great) — 
 
 XCII. 
 
 Was, that he caught Aurora's eye, on his. 
 And something Uke a smile upon her cheek. 
 
 Now this he reaUy rather took amiss : 
 In those who rarely smile, their smile bespeaks 
 
 A strong external motive; and in this 
 Smile of Aurora's there was nought to pique 
 
 Or hope, or love, with any of the wiles 
 
 Which some pretend to trace in ladies' smiles. 
 
358 DON JUAN. CANTO XVI. 
 
 XCIII. 
 
 'Twas a mere quiet smile of contemplation. 
 
 Indicative of some surprise and pity; 
 And Juan grew carnation with vexation, 
 
 Which was not very wise, and still less witty. 
 Since he had gain'd at least her observation, 
 
 A most important outwork of the city — 
 As Juan should have known, had not his senses 
 By last night's ghost been driven from their defences. 
 
 xciv. 
 But what was bad, she did not blush in turn. 
 
 Nor seem embarrass'd — quite the contrary; 
 Her aspect was as usual, still — not stern — 
 
 And she withdrew, but cast not down, her eye, 
 Yet grew a little pale — with what.-^ concern? 
 
 I know not; but her colour ne'er was high — ■ 
 Though sometimes faintly flush'd — and always clear. 
 As deep seas in a sunny atmosphere. 
 
 xcv. 
 But Adeline was occupied by fame 
 
 This day; and watching, witching, condescending 
 To the consumers of fish, fowl, and game. 
 
 And dignity with com-tesy so blending. 
 As aU must blend whose part it is to aim 
 
 (Especially as the sixth year is ending) 
 At their lord's, son's, or similar connexion's 
 Safe conduct through the rocks of re-elections. 
 
CANTO XVI. DON JUAN. 359 
 
 XCVl. 
 
 Though this was most expedient on the whole 
 And usual — Juan, when he cast a glance 
 
 On Adeline while playing her grand role^ 
 Which she went through as though it were a dance. 
 
 Betraying only now and then her soul 
 By a look scarce perceptibly askance 
 
 (Of weariness or scorn), began to feel I 
 
 Some doubt how much of Adeline was real; \ 
 
 XCVII. 
 
 So well she acted all and every part 
 By turns — with that vivacious versatility. 
 
 Which many people take for want of heart. 
 They err — 'tis merely what is call'd mobility, <•'> 
 
 A thing of temperament and not of art. 
 
 Though seeming so, from its supposed facility; 
 
 And false — though true; for surely they're sincerest 
 
 Who are strongly acted on by what is nearest. 
 
 XCVIII. 
 
 This makes your actors, artists, and romancers. 
 Heroes sometimes, though seldom — sages never j 
 
 But speakers, bards, diplomatists, and dancers. 
 Little that 's great, but much of what is clever ; 
 
 Most orators, but very few financiers. 
 Though all Exchequer chancellors endeavour. 
 
 Of late years, to dispense with Cocker's rigours, 
 
 And grow quite figurative with their figures. 
 
360 DON JUAN. canto xvi. 
 
 xcix. 
 The poets of arithmetic are they 
 
 Whoj though they prove not two and two to be 
 Five, as they would do in a modest way. 
 
 Have plainly made it out that four are three. 
 Judging by what they take, and what they pay. 
 
 The Sinking Fund's unfathomable sea. 
 That most unliquidating liquid, leaves 
 The debt unsunk, yet sinks aU it receives. 
 
 c. 
 
 While Adeline dispensed her airs and graces, 
 The fair Fitz-Fulke seem'd very much at easej 
 
 Though too well bred to quiz men to their faces. 
 Her laughing blue eyes with a glance could seize 
 
 The ridicules of people in all places — 
 That honey of your fashionable bees — 
 
 And store it up for mischievous enjoyment; 
 
 And this at present was her kind employment. 
 
 CI. 
 
 However, the day closed, as days must close; 
 
 The evening also waned — and coffee came. 
 Each carriage was announced, and ladies rose. 
 
 And curtsying off, as curtsies comitry dame. 
 Retired: with most unfashionable bows 
 
 Their docile esquires also did the same, 
 DeUghted with their dinner and their host. 
 But with the Lady Adeline the most. 
 
CANTO XVI. DON JUAN. 361 
 
 CII. 
 
 Some praised her beauty; others her great grace; 
 
 The warmth of her pohteness, whose sincerity 
 Was obvious in each feature of her face^ 
 
 Whose traits were radiant with the rays of verity. 
 Yes; she was truly worthy her high place! 
 
 No one could envy her deserved prosperity. 
 And then her dress — what beautiful simphcity 
 Draperied her form with curious felicity!*^) 
 
 cm. 
 Meanwhile sweet AdeUne deserved their praises, 
 
 By an impartial indemnification 
 For all her past exertion and soft phrases. 
 
 In a most edifying conversation. 
 Which turn'd upon their late guests' miens and faces, 
 
 And families, even to the last relation ; 
 Their hideous wives, their horrid selves and dresses. 
 And truculent distortion of their tresses. 
 
 CIV. 
 
 True, she said little — 'twas the rest that broke 
 
 Forth into universal epigram ; 
 But then 'twas to the purpose what she spoke: 
 
 Like Addison's ''faint praise," so wont to damn, 
 Her own but served to set off every joke. 
 
 As music chimes in with a melodrame. 
 How sweet the task to shield an absent friend ! 
 I ask but this of mine, to not defend. 
 
362 DON JUAN. CANTO XVI. 
 
 cv. 
 There were but two exceptions to this keen 
 
 Skirmish of wits o'er the departed; one^ 
 Aurora^ with her pure and placid mien ; 
 
 And Juan too, in general behind none 
 In gay remark on what he had heard or seen. 
 
 Sate silent now, his usual spirits gone : 
 In vain he heard the others rail or rally, 
 He would not join them in a single sally. 
 
 cvi. 
 'Tis true he saw Aurora look as though 
 
 She approved his sUence; she perhaps mistook 
 Its motive for that charity we owe 
 
 But seldom pay the absent, nor would look 
 Farther; it might or it might not be so. 
 
 But Juan, sitting silent in his nook. 
 Observing little in his reverie. 
 Yet saw this much, which he was glad to see. 
 
 CVII. 
 
 The ghost at least had done him this much good. 
 
 In making him as silent as a ghost. 
 If in the circumstances which ensued 
 
 He gain'd esteem where it was worth the most. 
 And certainly Aurora had renew'd 
 
 In him some feelings he had lately lost 
 Or harden'd; feelings which, perhaps ideal. 
 Are so divine, that I must deem them real; — 
 
CANTO XVI. DON JUAN. 363 
 
 CVIH. 
 
 The love of higher things and better days; 
 
 The unbounded hope^ and heavenly ignorance 
 Of what is call'd the world_, and the world's ways; 
 
 The moments when we gather from a glance 
 More joy than from all future pride or praise^ 
 
 "VVTiich kindle manhood^ but can ne'er entrance 
 The heart in an existence of its own, 
 Of which another's bosom is the zone. 
 
 cix. 
 
 Who would not sigh A; «/ rav Kvh^iiavl I 
 
 That hath a memory, or that had a heart? I 
 Alas ! her star must fade like that of Dian : 
 
 Ray fades on ray, as years on years depart. 
 Anacreon only had the soul to tie an 
 
 Un withering myrtle round the unblunted dart 
 Of Eros: but though thou hast play'd us many tricks, 
 StiU we respect thee, "Alma Venus Genetrix!" 
 
 ex. 
 And full of sentiments, sublime as billows 
 
 Heaving between this world and worlds beyond, 
 Don Juan, when the midnight hour of pillows 
 
 Arrived, retired to his ; but to despond 
 Rather than rest. Instead of poppies, willows 
 
 Waved o'er his couch; he meditated, fond 
 Of those sweet bitter thoughts which banish sleep. 
 And make the worldling sneer, the youngling weep. 
 
364 DON JUAN. canto xvi. 
 
 CXI. 
 
 The night was as before: he was undrest, 
 Saving his night-gown^ which is an undress ; 
 
 Completely '^'sans culotte^" and without vest; 
 In short, he hardly could be clothed with less : 
 
 But apprehensive of his spectral guest. 
 He sate, with feelings awkward to express 
 
 (By those who have not had such visitations). 
 
 Expectant of the ghost's fresh operations. 
 
 And not in vain he listen'd — Hush! what's that? 
 
 I see — I see — Ah, no! — 'tis not — yet 'tis — 
 Ye powers! it is the — the — the — Pooh! the cat! 
 
 The devU may take that stealthy pace of his ! 
 So like a spiritual pit-a-pat. 
 
 Or tiptoe of an amatory Miss, 
 Gliding the first time to a rendezvous. 
 And dreading the chaste echoes of her shoe. 
 
 CXIII. 
 
 Again — what is 't? The wind? No, no, — this time 
 
 It is the sable friar as before. 
 With awful footsteps regular as rhyme. 
 
 Or (as rhymes may be in these days) much more. 
 Again, through shadows of the night sublime. 
 
 When deep sleep fell on men, and the world wore 
 The starry darkness round her like a girdle 
 Spangled with gems — the monk made his blood curdle. 
 
CANTO XVI. DON JUAN. 365 
 
 A noise like to wet fingers drawn on glass, (s) 
 
 Which sets the teeth on edge; and a slight clatter 
 
 Like showers which on the midnight gusts will pass. 
 Sounding like very supernatural water. 
 
 Came over Juan's ear, which throbb'd, alas ! 
 For immateriaUsm 's a serious matter; 
 
 So that even those whose faith is the most great 
 
 In souls immortal, shun them tfite-a-tete. 
 
 cxv. 
 Were his eyes open? — Yes! and his mouth too. 
 
 Surprise has this effect — to make one dumb. 
 Yet leave the gate which eloquence sUps through 
 
 As wide as if a long speech were to come. 
 Nigh and more nigh the awful echoes drew. 
 
 Tremendous to a mortal tympanum: 
 His eyes were open, and (as was before 
 Stated) his mouth. What open'd next.'' — the door. 
 
 cxvi. 
 It open'd with a most infernal creak, 
 
 Like that of hell. "Lasciate ogni speranza 
 Voi che entrate!" The hinge seemed to speak. 
 
 Dreadful as Dante's rhima, or this stanza; ' 
 Or — but all words upon such themes are weak: 
 
 A single shade's sufficient to entrance a | 
 
 Hero — for what is substance to a spirit? 
 Or how is't matter trembles to come near it? 
 
366 DON JUAN. CANTO XVI. 
 
 cxvir. 
 The door flew wide, not swiftly, — but, as fly 
 
 The sea-gulls, with a steady, sober flight — 
 And then swung back; nor close — ^but stood awry. 
 
 Half letting in long shadows on the light, 
 Which stiU in Juan's candlesticks burn'd high, 
 
 For he had two, both tolerably bright. 
 And in the door- way, darkening darkness, stood 
 The sable friar in his solemn hood. 
 
 CXVIII. 
 
 Don Juan shook, as erst he had been shaken 
 The night before; but being sick of shaking. 
 
 He first incUned to think he had been mistaken; 
 And then to be ashamed of such mistaking; 
 
 His own internal ghost began to awaken 
 
 Within him, and to queU his corporal quaking — 
 
 Hinting that soul and body on the whole 
 
 Were odds against a disembodied soul. 
 
 cxix. 
 And then his dread grew wrath, and his wrath fierce; 
 
 And he arose, advanced — the shade retreated; 
 But Juan, eager now the truth to pierce, 
 
 FoUow'd, his veins no longer cold, but heated. 
 Resolved to thrust the mystery carte and tierce. 
 
 At whatsoever risk of being defeated: 
 The ghost stopp'd, menaced, then retired, until 
 He reach'd the ancient waU, then stood stone still. 
 
CANTO XVI. DON JUAN. 
 
 Mi7 
 
 cxx. 
 
 Juan put forth one arm — Eternal powers! 
 
 It touch'd no soul, nor body^ but the wall^ 
 On which the moonbeams fell in silvery showers 
 
 Chequer'd with all the tracery of the hall; 
 He shudder' d, as no doubt the bravest cowers 
 
 When he can't tell what 'tis that doth appal. 
 How odd, a single hobgoblin's non-entity 
 Should cause more fear than a whole host's identity. <") 
 
 cxxi. 
 
 But still the shade remain'd : the blue eyes glared. 
 
 And rather variably for stony death: 
 Yet one thing rather good the grave had spared. 
 
 The ghost had a remarkably sweet breath. 
 A straggUng curl show'd he had been fair-hair'd ; 
 
 A red lip, with two rows of pearls beneath, 
 Gleam'd forth, as through the casement's ivy shroud 
 The moon peep'd, just escaped from a gray cloud. 
 
 cxxii. 
 And Juan, puzzled, but still curious, thrust 
 
 His other arm forth — Wonder upon wonder ! 
 It press'd upon a hard but glowing bust. 
 
 Which beat as if there was a warm heart under. 
 He found, as people on most trials must. 
 
 That he had made at first a silly blunder. 
 And that in his confusion he had caught 
 Only the wall, instead of what he sought. 
 
368 DON JUAN. CANTO xvi. 
 
 CXXIII. 
 
 The ghostj if ghost it were^ seem'd a sweet soul 
 
 As ever lurk'd beneath a holy hood: 
 A dimpled chin, a neck of ivory^ stole 
 
 Forth into something much like flesh and blood; 
 Back fell the sable frock and dreary cowl. 
 
 And they reveal' d — alas! that e'er they should! 
 In full, voluptuous, but not o'ergrown bulk. 
 The phantom of her frolic grace — Fitz-Fuike! 
 
NOTES TO CANTO XVI. 
 
 Note 1, page 328, stanza x- 
 
 like the old Tyrian vest 
 
 Dyed purple, none at present can tell how. 
 If from a shell-fish or from cochineal. 
 
 The composition of the old Tyrian purple, whether from a 
 shell-fish or from cochineal, or from kermes, is still an article 
 of dispute; and even its colour— some say purple, others scar- 
 Jet : I say nothing. 
 
 Note 2, page 341, stanza xliii. 
 
 Deeming the sage would he much mortified, 
 
 O)- thrown into a philosophic passion. 
 For a spoilt carpet — but the " Attic Bee" 
 Was much consoled hy his own repartee. 
 
 I think that it was a carpet on which Diogenes trod, with — 
 «' Thus I trample on the pride of Plato!" — "With greater 
 pride," as the other replied. But as carpets are meant to be 
 trodden upon, my memory probably misgives me, and it might 
 be a robe, or tapestry, or a table-cloth, or some other expensive 
 and uncynical piece of furniture. 
 
 Note 3, page 342, stanza xlv. 
 To soothe our ears, lest Italy should faiU 
 
 I remember that the mayoress of a provincial town, somewhat 
 surfeited with a similar display from foreign parts, did rather 
 indecorously break through the applauses of an intelligent 
 audience— intelligent, I mean, as to music — for the words, be- 
 sides being in recosdite languages (it was some years before the 
 peace, ere all the world had travelled, and while I was a collegian) 
 —were sorely disguised by the performers; — this mayoress, I 
 say, broke out with, " Rot your Italianos ! for my part, I loves 
 a simple ballat !" Rossini wiU go a good way to bring most 
 
 VOL. II. B B 
 
370 NOTES TO CANTO XVI. 
 
 people to the same opinion, some day. Who would imagine 
 that he was to be the successor of Mozart ? However, I state 
 this with diffidence, as a liege and loyal admirer of Italian music 
 in general, and of much of Rossini's; but we may say, as the 
 connoisseur did of painting, in The Vicar of Wakefield, " That 
 the picture would be better painted if the painter had taken 
 more pains." 
 
 Note 4, page 346, stanza lix. 
 
 For Gothic daring shown in English money. 
 
 "Ausu Romano, sere Veneto" is the inscription (and well in- 
 scribed in this instance) on the sea walls between the Adriatic 
 and Venice. The walls were a republican work of the Venetians ; 
 the inscription, I believe. Imperial; and inscribed by Napoleon 
 the First. It is time to continue to him that title — there will be 
 a second by and by, "Spes altera mundi," if he live; lethimnot 
 defeat it like his father. But in any case he wUl be preferable to 
 the Imbeciles. There is a glorious field for him, if he know how 
 to cviltivate it. 
 
 Note 5, page 347, stanza Ix. 
 " Untying" squires " to fight against the churches." 
 
 " Though ye untie the winds, and bid them fight 
 Against the churches." — Macbeth. 
 
 Notes, page 359, stanza xcvii. 
 Thei/ en — 'tis merely what is call'd mobility. 
 
 In French "mobility." I am not sure that mobility is En- 
 glish ; but it is expressive of a quality which rather belongs to 
 other climates, though it is sometimes seen to a great extent in 
 our own. It may be defined as an excessive susceptibility of im- 
 mediate impressions — at the same time without losing the part; 
 and is, though sometimes apparently useful to the possessor, a 
 most painful and unhappy attribute. 
 
 Note 7, page 361, stanza cii. 
 lyraperied her form with curious felicity ! 
 " Curiosa felicitas."— Petronius Arbiter. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO XVI. 371 
 
 Note 8, page 365, stanza cxiv. 
 
 A noise like to wet fingers drawn on glass. 
 Which sets the teeth on edge. 
 
 See the account of the ghost of the uncle of Prince Charles 
 of Saxony raised by Schroepfer— «• Karl— Karl— was— wait wolt 
 mich ?"- 
 
 Note 9, page 367, stanza cxx. 
 
 How oddi a single hobgoblin's non-entity 
 
 Shovld cmise more fear than a whole host's identit;/. 
 
 " Shadows to-night 
 
 Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard, 
 
 Than could the substance of ten thousand soldiers, &c." 
 
 See Richard III, 
 
 THE END. 
 
LONDON : 
 
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