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CANTO XVII. 
 
 DON JUAN. 
 
 BY ONE WHO DESIRES TO BE 
 
 VERY GREAT UNKNOWN; 
 
 REMEMBERING THAT 
 
 " in a theatre, the eyes of men, 
 
 After a well graced actor leaves the stage, 
 Are idly hent on him who enters next, 
 Thinking his prattle to be tedious." 
 
 SHAKSPEARE. K. RICH. II 
 
 ILLUSTRATION BY SEYMOUR. 
 
 LONDON 
 
 AMES GILBERT, (late W. KIDD,) 
 
 228, REGENT STREET. 
 
 1832. 
 PRICE ONE SHILLING. 
 
 4/ 
 
Just published, price only One Shilling, elegantly printei 
 in a neat Wrapper, 
 
 THE POETICAL MARCH OF HUXKBl 
 
 BY THE GREAT UNMENTIONABLE, 
 
 Containing Burlesque Imitations of the principal Poets of 1 
 (accompanied by light satirico-lyrico-biographico-critical r 
 after the manner of 
 
 The " Rejected Addresses." 
 
 WITH PORTRAIT SKETCHES, AUTOGRAPHS, 
 
 BY SEYMOUR, 
 
 Of The Honourable Mrs. Norton, L. E. L., and Jerdj 
 Bayleys, (Old and New,) Robert Montgomery, Cam' 
 and the Lake Poets, (Wordsworth, Coleridge, Southi 
 Wilson). 
 
 J. Gilbert, (Late W. Kidd,) 228, Regent Street. 
 
 Shortly wiU be published, No. I. Second Series of 
 THE CIGAR. 
 CONDUCTED BY EBENEZER CULLCHICKWE1 
 editor of the first series. 
 
 North. The " Cigar" is extremely clever and amusing, 
 author — Sheppard. A witty fellow, I wish he was here. 
 
 Nodes Amb. Blackwood's Maga 
 
DEDICATED 
 
 SHADES OF LOUD BYRON. 
 
 And though he's taken to the shades helow, 
 
 We've plenty of his shades above to show.* P. 5. Stan. ii. 
 
 * See Print shops (Ackermann's, &c.) 
 " Where every ruin, cloud, and tree makes known a part 
 Of Shades of Byron and Napoleon Buonaparte." 
 
 Poems by Captain— Somebody or other. 
 
CANTO XVII. 
 
 OF 
 
 DON JUAN. 
 
 BY ONE WHO DESIRES TO BE 
 
 A VERY GREAT UNKNOWN. 
 
 REMEMBERING THAT, 
 
 " in a theatre, the eyes of men, 
 
 After a well graced actor leaves the stage, 
 Are idly bent on him who enters next, 
 Thinking his prattle to be tedious." 
 
 SHAKSPEARE. K. RICH. II. 
 
 WITH AN ILLUSTRATION BY SEYMOUR. 
 
 LONDON : 
 JAMES GILBERT (late W. KIDD), 
 
 228, REGENT STREET. 
 1832. 
 
LONDON : 
 PRlNTIiLi UY C. WH1TTINGHAM, TOOKS COURT. 
 
DON JUAN. ^ x 
 
 CANTO XVII. fijg 
 
 i. 
 The noble Byron, — whose almighty song, 
 An Alexander 'mid the hosts of rhyme, 
 Gain'd easy triumph o'er the numerous throng 
 Of rival poesy of every clime, 
 Exacted praise from even Envy's tongue, 
 And made the Muses once again sublime, — 
 Has perish'd like mankind, but left a name, 
 Which Gods might die for, on the heights of Fame ! 
 
 ii. 
 That lordly spirit, whose vanity was thwarted 
 By the revilings of the fickle crowd, 
 Whom he, in condescension, only courted 
 For their " sweet voices," nor would have allow'd 
 Them judgment but to praise him, is departed,— 
 I trust, for where his audience makes him proud ! 
 But, though he 's taken to the shades below, 
 We 've plenty of his shades above to show. 1 
 
 Panose* 
 
DON JUAN. 
 
 III. 
 
 And now Parnassus' height, which Byron trod, 
 With talent's practis'd foot, — who would not 
 Yet mortals follow up the works of God ; [shun ? — 
 And plans, which architects have left undone, 
 The common bricklayer perfects with his hod ; 
 How often too the veriest fools have won 
 Reward for what poor genius design'd ; 
 And valets wear what masters leave behind ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Thus I, a mere disciple, who have caught 
 
 At least a little of the poet's vanity, — 
 
 Though, for my pains, I , doubtless, shall be thought 
 
 To be no little bordering on insanity, — 
 
 And though my verse, instead of being bought, 
 
 Should be maltreated by the whole Humanity, — 
 
 Rather than try my luck upon a new one, 
 
 I'll put the finish to the old " DON JUAN." 
 
 v. 
 Oft has the question fully been debated 
 Whether this epic's moral should be mended: 
 The pious many have not hesitated 
 To say the whole of it should be suspended ; 
 Others again, in deference, have created 
 Morals the author ne'er himself intended; 
 While even those, who think it will not hurt you, 
 Admit " Don Juan" might possess more virtue. 
 
CANTO XVII. / 
 
 VI. 
 
 It might be wise for novices, to weave 
 A little looseness in their poetry ; 
 For, what we cannot purchase without leave 
 We like the more procured on the sly ; 
 Then, every woman " is at heart" an Eve, 
 And will, of course, for fruits forbidden sigh ; 
 While those who scruple most must first peruse 
 To learn a reason why they should abuse. 
 
 VII. 
 
 But Byron, — whose great genius was so strong 
 That it could force the giddiest to read [wrong 
 The things which should be, not which are, — was 
 To mingle so much more than he had need 
 Of every-day occurrence in his song, 2 — 
 And that with such blunt truth, without its meed 
 Of dogma, sentiment, and wholesome cant 
 To please the grandmamma and maiden aunt ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 I, for myself, thus early undertake 
 To be, as much as possible, correct ; 
 And, if, at any moment, I should break 
 My promise, by compulsion or neglect, 
 I will some very grave reflection make 
 At the same time to balance the defect ; — 
 Besides the moral wherewith I'll conclude 
 Shall make amends for being; somewhat rude. 
 
DON JUAN. 
 
 Without the least intention of offence 
 'Gainst modesty, or virtue, or theology, 
 At once my arduous task then I'll commence ; - 
 With, for my rashness, only this apology, 
 (Which will not puzzle the intelligence 
 Of any child who knows aught of geology) 
 That, if the sun sets 'ere our journey 's finish'd, 
 The chances are we find our light diminish'd . 
 
 Alas ! how wrong of poets to begin, 
 
 However young they be, such long narrations, 
 
 Without ensuring life ; lest they should bring 
 
 Their heroes into ticklish situations, 
 
 And then, perchance, like Byron, cease to sing, 
 
 Leaving their readers' own imaginations 
 
 To rescue or condemn them, as they please, — 
 
 And every one condemns with greater ease! 
 
CANTO XVII. 
 
 XII. > 
 
 How oft are honest creatures thus misjudg'd; — 
 (That Juan should be perhaps I wonder less) — 
 For mortal never tempting journey trudg'd, 
 Where woman's witchery urged him to digress, 
 But he was ever generously grudg'd 
 Virtue enough to help him through the mess ! 
 And who to others in these times could grant 
 That continence which he himself may want? 
 
 XIII. 
 
 We left our hero frighten'd at the ghost, 
 Which haunted Norman Abbey, but, in place 
 Of " the Black Friar," pleas'd to find a most 
 Substantial, glowing form in his embrace ; 
 A being yet more dangerous than a host 
 Of spiritual shadows was her grace 
 Fitz-Fulke, who came disguis'd in monkish dress, — 
 But for what purpose, reader, you must guess. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 O'er all that pass'd between them I must draw 
 
 A veil, — -or rather you might say, the curtain : 
 
 For I prescribe myself a sacred law, 
 
 Never to publish rumours which might hurt one, 
 
 But to state only what I either saw 
 
 Or know, on good authority, for certain ; — 
 
 And, in the present case, I do not credit 
 
 The way in which " the world" interpreted it. 
 
10 DON JUAN. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Nor can I blame " the world;" for I must own 
 
 'Twere more than nature could expect, to find 
 
 A youth, for gallant offices so known 
 
 As was our Juan, who could bring his mind 
 
 (When visited by loveliness — alone — 
 
 At midnight !) to be morally inclin'd : 
 
 But, sometimes on the wildest rocks, the rose, 
 
 Where least expected, in luxuriance blows ! 
 
 XVI. 
 
 It were an outrage upon common sense 
 To say one did escape, on such a night, 
 Who had, like our poor hero, for defence, 
 So little conscience ; — still I hint he might ; 
 " Nothing is certain," and, by inference 
 From all that pass'd, I must believe I'm right 
 In my conjecture : — but then where's the reason 
 For Juan's rectitude so out of season ? 
 
 Twas not "male-chastity ;" — that stuff began 
 And ended too with Joseph, Jacob's son ! 
 And (thanks to Richard Brinsley Sheridan, 
 Who made another Joseph who had none 
 But outward show) he 's more than mortal man, 
 Who, though inclin'd to virtue, dares to shun 
 The frailties of his nature, or give vent 
 E'en to an incidental sentiment ! 
 
CANTO XVII. 11 
 
 Oh ! Richard Brinsley — Richard Brinsley — Oh ! 
 
 Spite of thy satire, thou art much to blame 
 
 For having made thy doubly wicked Joe 
 
 So great a libel on an honest name : 
 
 For him, alas ! — who could brave every woe 
 
 And every fortune, Ridicule can tame 
 
 To be a slave; and many, to avoid 
 
 The nickname " Joseph," hourly are destroy'd ! — 
 
 XIX. 
 
 P'rhaps Juan's apprehension of the ghost, 
 Gave him a shock which he could not get over ; 
 Or p'rhaps Aurora Raby's image cross'd 
 His mind, and wouldn't let him be a rover ; 
 Still he himself, — who was too apt to boast 
 His many triumphs, as a general lover, — 
 As to Fitz-Fulke, could never be induc'd 
 To own she was not shamefully traduc'd. 
 
 xx. 
 
 Now all this mystery never had been made, 
 Nor all this trouble given me, had not 
 Another figure come, in black array'd — 
 On the same errand p'rhaps — to the same spot : 
 But 'twas no ghost, (or, if so, vilely play'd 
 As by a mummer who his part forgot) 
 Although it scar'd away our hero's wits, 
 And cost the duchess three successive fits. 
 
12 DON JUAN. 
 
 The house was rous'd, and, full of vague alarms, 
 The inmates hurried to the hall, 4 and found 
 The Duchess kicking in his Donship's arms, 
 Which were engag'd in striving to keep round 
 The full proportion of her grace's charms 
 Her mantle, which she would kick on the ground, 
 As if she gloried in -&fit excuse 
 For shewing limbs not envy could abuse. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 She soon recover'd and could but declare 
 (And Juan swore, of course, to 't, every bit) 
 That she was stepping — she could not say where — 
 When she beheld a sable figure flit 
 Beside her and evaporate in air, — 
 Which straightway sent her off into a fit ; 
 That Juan came — and didn't even stay — 
 She blush'd — to get his smallclothes on the way ! 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Now this was very plausible to tell, [joke," 
 
 And 't might have pass'd with all " a three days' 
 (Though each had somewhat been an infidel — 
 And,asfor shades and spirits, thought them smoke) 
 Had the black ghost been bound by any spell 
 To silence or dead language ; — but it spoke 
 The living tongue of woman, and made known 
 More than itself knew ere the day had flown. 
 
CANTO XVII. 13 
 
 The fury of the storm was doom'd to burst 
 
 Fresh on the flower that would feel it most ; 
 
 For poor Aurora Raby was the first 
 
 To whom, in kindness, this imagin'd ghost 
 
 Diselos'd her secret, and improv'd the worst 
 
 Of her suspicions, to poor Juan's cost. 
 
 It was a very wet and dismal morning 
 
 And ladies work'd and talk'd instead of yawning. 
 
 xxv. 
 
 Now ladies' working is no trifling matter ; 
 For, fond as women are of flattery, 
 They're none of them the least dispos'd to flatter ; 
 And threads and needles leave their tongues quite 
 The reputations of all friends to spatter — [free 
 Where they're on terms to take a liberty ; — 
 Alas ! of fatal engines the most ready 
 Is, without doubt, the workbox of a lady ! 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Very long since a woman, nam'd Pandora, 
 (And if we can believe one Hesiod 
 No other woman ever liv'd before her) 
 Came, by command of Jupiter, the God, 
 To vex mankind, and, for that purpose, bore a 
 Boxfull of evils ; now — 'tis very odd — 
 That box might to the ladies then, I trow, 
 Have been the same, as is a workbox now ! 
 
14. DON JUAN. 
 
 All are engaged ; here two, here three combine 
 And pin a subject to their work of shame ; 
 Now, soon as snugly seated, they begin, 
 With hand and tongue alike, to cut and maim ; 
 Perhaps according as their work is fine, 
 Some choose a noble's, some a gentle's name, — 
 And Adeline a piece of satin had employ'd her 
 Some fifteen months already to embroider. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 'Twas fancy work, and Juan pleas'd her fancy : — 
 He was, in truth, " a very pretty fellow ;" 
 His figure the most conscious elegancy, 
 His features perfect, his complexion sallow, 
 (His cheek had somewhat lost the brilliancy 
 Of boyhood) without being the least yellow ; — 
 And the complexions most becoming men are 
 A Vandyke brown or tint of burnt Sienna. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Yes, Juan was her scandal ; — and, in fact, 
 He was the general victim ; for, the scene, 
 In which he'd been so lately forc'd to act 
 Such bootless part, was of that happy mean 
 That 's sure chaste woman's notice to attract, — 
 Though less than modest, yet not quite obscene ! 
 Strange with what gout fair lady will report 
 And make still fouler matters of this sort ! 
 
CANTO XVII. 
 
 15 
 
 But why did Ad'line single out Miss Raby 
 To hear her libel Juan ? for she thought her 
 At best a little better than a baby ; 5 
 But she suspected that his Donship sought her 
 Affections, and she did not deem it shabby 
 To baffle such pretensions ; and a daughter. 
 Of " Holy Church," 6 she knew, thought "pec- 
 cadilloes" 
 Not ripples in life's current but huge billows. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 " I saw," she said, " the Duchess leave her room, — 
 Silent and histfully, as if for wrong ; — 
 Without a candle to dispel the gloom 
 Of cloisters haunted, if we trust the song;? 
 And who'll believe her merry grace would roam 
 For nothing in the dark and cold ? — so long ! — 
 Just one hour twenty minutes and a second, 
 As, by my Lord's Chronometer, I reckon'd ! 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 " In fact, my dear, to put it past a doubt, 
 
 I will tell you — (Tut ! there's a monstrous stitch 
 
 'Twill take me half an hour to pick it out !) 
 
 Where was I ? — yes, my love, I felt an itch 
 
 To know what 'twas Fitz-Fulke could be about, — 
 
 But, mind, I'm telling you a secret which 
 
 I'd tell no soul but you, dear; — not a word 
 
 Of it have I ev'n hinted to my lord ; 
 
16 DON JUAN. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 " For he's so very — (There again I've blunder'd ! 
 This silk's too thick) — he's so ridiculous, 
 So very odd ! he really might have wonder'd 
 Why I observed her Grace's actions thus ; 
 He might have laugh'd at it ; or might have 
 
 thunder'd 
 About his honour, and have made a fuss ; — 
 Besides he must be telling all he hears, 
 And it might reach through him the Duke's own ears! 
 
 xxxiv. 
 " Well, after listening, as I said before, 
 A full hour twenty minutes and a second, 
 Resolv'd to bear such strange suspense no more, 
 I threw a large black shawl about my neck and 
 Went forth— to find her at Don Juan's door— 
 A sight at which I positively sicken'd ! 
 She quite en deshabille, — he en chemise 
 De nuit, which scarcely reached his naked knees ! 
 
 xxxv. 
 " She saw, and, 't may be, took me for " the friar, 1 ' 
 And rous'd the house up by her feint or fit. 
 Now I've been taught that no offence is higher 
 Than violation of the marriage rite ; 
 And, if it be so, we might edify her 
 Most graceless Grace, by lecturing her a bit.— 
 How pale you are, my love ! such sinful doing — " 
 " No, madam, I've but prick'd my finger, sewing." 
 
CANTO XVII. 17 
 
 Now, as Aurora heard all this, her bile 
 Was in a painful state of effervescence : 
 She listen'd eagerly, yet, all the while, 
 Inwardly cursing- Adeline's complacence ; 
 And, every moment, she grew fainter, till 
 At length, with most inimitable presence 
 Of mind, she gave her hand a gentle prick 
 And said the sight of blood had turn'd her sick ! 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 " P'rhaps," artlessly she said, " ere we accuse 
 The Don decisively we'd better pause" — 
 " Aurora, you mistake ; we can excuse 
 The handsome Spaniard with sufficient cause, 
 But not her wicked Grace, who could abuse 
 The sacred virtue of the marriage laws ; — 
 Oh ! no, I blame the wily hand which set, 
 And not the bird that fell into, the net." 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 " But might he not resist? — you laugh! I grant 
 It would be ineffectual to search 
 For reasons to defend a Protestant : 
 But, when we members of the Holy Church, 8 
 In tempting situations, virtue want, 
 Nor Saint nor Virgin leaves us in the lurch : 
 And it is crime to let the tempter's snares 
 O'erpower us, albeit unawares !" 
 C 
 
18 DON JUAN. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 " Psha ! child," cried Adeline, " however good 
 
 Or bad, or whether Saint or Infidel, 
 
 I'll not believe man ever yet withstood 
 
 The artful influence of beauty's spell, — 
 
 That is, if made of real flesh and blood ; 
 
 The Holy Scriptures certainly do tell 
 
 Of one Adonis who'd not quit his duty, — 
 
 But sure his tempter had more years than beauty ! 9 
 
 XL. 
 
 " No one than I, my dear, could be more zealous 
 
 In deprecating every sort of vice ; 
 
 But I detest your sentimental fellows, 
 
 So cold in heart they'll not ev'n melt like ice, — 
 
 Who give their wives no reason to be jealous, 
 
 They are so very scrupulously nice ! 
 
 Oh ! I should be Don Juan's worst of foes, if 
 
 I but imagin'd he could be a Joseph !" 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Aurora, shock'd, declared it was inhuman 
 For any man to proffer love to more 
 Than to his own, just, lawful, wedded, woman. — 
 ' Twas hard, own'd Adeline, since their sex forbore, 
 (To please " the world" and laws) from having two 
 Aurora thought it very sinful ; for, [men. — 
 
 Though legal, the polyg'my of a Turk, — 
 Still more concubinage was heinous work ! 
 
CANTO XVII. 19 
 
 Aurora sat in thought ; then turn'd her eye 
 
 From Earth, with an expression of despair, 
 
 And rais'd it with devotion up on high, 
 
 Fearful that virtue rested only there ! 
 
 Her mournful gaze expanded wistfully ; 
 
 H er hands were clasp'd , and h er lips mo v'd in pray'r , 
 
 Till for awhile her mortal spirit slept ; — 
 
 She look'd to Earth again, and woke, and wept ! 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 " Oh, that there were," she sigh'd, " some mortal 
 Affix'd by bounteous Heaven to redeem [price 
 Debas'd mankind from their careers of vice ! 
 Would that my life might, in its mercy, seem 
 A trifling, yet sufficient sacrifice ! 10 
 Or let me, Heaven, quit this rugged dream 
 Of Earth, and be thy humblest Seraphim, 
 That I may guard the world, and watch o'er him !" 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 " O'er him /" yes he was all the world to her, 
 And she for him pray'd more, than all the rest 
 Of poor mankind ; — but whom did she prefer ? 
 Why surely, gentle reader, you have guess'd ; 
 For in an epic we can scarcely err, — 
 In every scrape our hero stands confess'd. 
 Yes, she loved Juan ! — But once I began to 
 Dilate on woman's love — and fill'd a canto ! 
 
20 DON JUAN. 
 
 Yet, as her love was something very curious, 
 I must describe it, though but in a stanza : 
 'Twas timid, yet devoted ; meek, yet furious; 
 Extravagant, yet not extravaganza ; 
 Trusting, yet jealous ; modest, yet luxurious ; 
 Incalculably fit for the Romancer, 
 And yet 't had been in no respect a libel 
 On any Virgin in the Holy Bible ! 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 She lov'd him as the image of her God, — 
 And would have worship'd had 't not been profane ; 
 She lov'd the very ground whereon he trod, 
 Yet wept to see his footsteps leave a stain ; 
 As parent loves her child who needs the rod, 
 The more perchance because he gives her pain ; 
 She fear'd to trust, yet oh ! could naught refuse ; 
 She long'd to censure, but could not accuse ! 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 He too loved her ; but it was reverence 
 
 For one he thought too pure for mortal state; 
 
 And, when he sued, 'twas with such deference, 
 
 As if he knew himself a reprobate, 
 
 And almost fear'd to win a preference, 
 
 Lest his devotion should contaminate : 
 
 He had not told his love ; but his quick eye 
 
 Would make Aurora blush unconsciously. 
 
CANTO XVII. 21 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 Juan was pond'ring on the gloomy past, 
 Dejected by a raging storm without, 
 When suddenly he saw the furious blast 
 Tear up a healthy tree ; — he then was stout, 
 But might not he himself be thus o'ercast — 
 And who would pity him ? he look'd about, 
 But knew no single being whom his lot, 
 Or good or bad, should interest a jot. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 He thought he'd surely that about him which 
 Would make, at any rate, the tender sex 
 Compassionate him : true, he was not rich ; 
 But that 's a failing which need never vex 
 Such as \ia.vejigui'es, likelier to bewitch 
 The heart, than those which grace a banker's checks ; 
 For tender misses, though they love to dash, 
 Are too romantic far to think of " cash." 
 
 He recollected too, with rising pride, 
 The proud Sultana, 11 who became the owner 
 Of his good looks by purchase, but who sigh'd, 
 More like his slave,when he had dared postpone her ; 
 The Empress 12 too who had his worth espied, — 
 And all the little favours he had done her, 
 So richly paid for ! — 'Faith ! her amorous hours, 
 As Jove's and Danae's, were golden show'rs ! 
 
22 DON JUAN. 
 
 And now he thought upon the many whom 
 His charms had captivated in his day ; 
 With sorrow too he call'd to mind the doom 
 Of lovely Julia, 13 — a dull convent's prey ! — 
 And black-ey'd Haidee 14 in her early tomb! — 
 But he was not much given to give way, 
 And straight he laugh'd at his seraglio fun, 
 And Dudu's 15 bee by which her lips were stung ! 
 
 LII. 
 
 In fact, he'd no good reason to despair : 
 He'd triumph'd both in regions cold and hot, 
 And why not triumph too with British Fair? 
 But let him heed ; " Old England" is a spot 
 Where married Julias not so easy are, 
 And where we might explore grot after grot 
 Nor find a black-ey'd Haidee, either saving 
 Young shipwreck'd Juans, or, if so, worth having. 
 
 LIU. 
 
 Tmay be, like Catherine, there are a few ; 
 But sure 'tis base enough to let a Queen 
 Buy up one's love, — and every ill beshrew [mean ! 
 Hearts that would sell themselves to things more 
 Faith ! English loves are dang'rous to pursue ; 
 Unless you think of marriage, — then all's clean ! 
 " Marry ! why not ? I've tried a roving life ; — 
 Tis here the fashion, — let me try a wife." 
 
CANTO XVII. 23 
 
 LIV. 
 
 At this resolve, a waking sunbeam clear'd 
 Aside the clouds and, smiling on the storm, 
 As instantly the face of nature cheer 'd : 
 At the same moment, with still greater charm 
 To his desponding fancy, there appear'd 
 Close at his side Aurora's sunnier form ! 
 She saw him ; but, before she could retreat, 
 He seiz'd her hand and led her to a seat. 
 
 " He knelt a suppliant lover at her feet," 
 Would rhyme as well, — but I adhere to fact; — 
 'Twould be a more poetical conceit, 
 Yet 't has been lately so completely hack'd, 
 And kneeling lovers we so often meet, 
 They've worn themselves quite threadbare by the 
 So Juan shall discover his affection [act 
 
 Without, in novel fashion, genuflexion. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 " Presumptuous, worthless creature that I am, 
 Oh ! pardon me, Aurora, that I dare 
 Compassion — kindness — ev'n affection claim 
 From one so fairly pure, so purely fair ; 
 But 'tis my very utterness of shame 
 Which gives me courage, even in despair, — 
 As reckless sinners, by distress are driven 
 To seek protection at the shrine of Heaven ! 
 
24 DON JUAN. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 " If I remember rightly we are told — 
 
 Somewhere in holy writ, — that Heaven hath 
 
 A greater satisfaction to behold 
 
 One penitent, who'd left the righteous path, 
 
 Return converted to the Christian fold, 
 
 Than hosts of true observers of their faith ; 
 
 And wilt not thou take charitable pride 
 
 In leading one whom God has fail'd to guide ? 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 " And I, alas ! have so long ceas'd to tread 
 
 In virtue's footsteps, that I've lost the track 
 
 Conducting to eternal bliss, and need 
 
 A Being, differing, more than white and black, 
 
 From the corrupted thing I am, to lead 
 
 My long estrang'd and darken'd spirit back : — 
 
 And oh ! to one so beautiful as thou 
 
 The fallen Lucifer himself must bow ! 
 
 " Ah, put no faith in those that never fail 
 
 In pray'r methodical or rule of act ; 
 
 Staid knaves ! who can their evil passions veil, — 
 
 Or are too worthless even to attract 
 
 The tempting eye of evil to assail ; — 
 
 While their desires, if but once attack'd, 
 
 Would not be dainty but, like cormorants, 
 
 O'ergorge nor satisfy their novel wants ! 
 
CANTO XVII. 25 
 
 LX. 
 
 1 1, who the sparkling cup of sin have quaff 'd 
 Ev'n to its very dregs, and found them bitter, — 
 I, who have cloy'd upon the dang'rous draught 
 And only recollect its sting, am fitter, 
 Than one ne'er vanquish'd by Temptation's craft, 
 To know that l all things are not gold which glitter'— 
 How thornier are the flow'ry ways of vice 
 Than those of virtue, though they more entice ! 
 
 LXI. 
 
 " Who knows the comfort of a peaceful life — 
 Who knows the value of a happy home 
 So well as he who's pass'd his days in strife, 
 Or been compell'd in foreign climes to roam ? 
 Many there are, from habit, who've become 
 The thoughtless bigots of a taught belief ; 
 But he who, from conviction, bends his knee, 
 He only is the real devotee ! 
 
 LXII. 
 
 " Aurora, dare I hope that thou wilt bless 
 My worthlessness, with pity — with protection — 
 Oh ! if thou hesitatest, nothing less 
 Could tolerate my boldness, than affection ! — 
 Still silent ? — let thy silence then confess 
 That I, though faulty, am thy heart's election ! — 
 I am ! I am ! and let this trembling kiss 
 Attest my love, and ratify my bliss !" 
 
26 don juAy. 
 
 Aurora heard him, yet seem'd not to hear ; 
 His words beat on her heart with such vibration 
 Of all its chords, as quite suspended there 
 All other feeling — stopp'd her blood's pulsation, 
 Blanch'dher fair cheek — and caus'd her to appear 
 A list'ning form bereft of animation, — 
 Like some rare piece of statuary which lives 
 Engross'd on the one sense the Sculptor gives ! 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 This declaration, for a son of Spain, 
 (To those who've heard of that luxurious clime, 
 Whose melting air and black-ey'd daughters train, 
 Ev'n from its infancy, the heart to climb 
 The various degrees of love, and gain 
 Its very summit) may not seem sublime ; 
 But, p'rhaps, their wonder will directly vanish 
 When they reflect he did n't speak in Spanish. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 He neither spoke in English, nor in German, 
 Which have their beauties to a native tongue, 
 Although, may be, they better suit a sermon, 
 Than love confessions, when accented wrong ; 
 Nor spoke he in Italian, — I determine 
 'Cause he knew not "the language of sweet song;" 
 In fine, he told his love in French, — forsooth 
 A language fit for anything but truth ! 
 
CANTO XVII. 27 
 
 But — whether his deliv'ry was emphatic, 
 Or that his eyes talk'd Spanish, I can't tell, — 
 Or that his subject was not mathematic, 
 And therefore not incomprehensible, — 
 His auditor, at least, was not phlegmatic, 
 And never heard a language sound so well ; 
 Besides he 's in a northern tongue translated, 
 And possibly thereby infrigidated. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 There's one remark I may as well make here ; 
 Tis never natural, when we English vow, 
 To use the second person singular : 
 But rather to — I know not why or how, — 
 Make single persons " two or more" appear ; 
 French lovers do, however, thee and thou, 
 And we may translate strictly, if we please ; 
 Aurora too spoke French with thous and thees. 
 
 Juan had ceas'd, and there ensu'd a pause 
 Of moments that seem'd lengthen'd into years 
 To him whose young enthusiasm now was 
 Each instant humbled by a thousand fears : 
 A skilful actor pauses with applause, 
 In painful scenes, and multiplies his tears ; 
 Aurora paused ; — I do not say that she did 
 To gain effect, — but, if so, she succeeded. 
 
28 DON JUAN. 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 She let him press her to his beating bosom, 
 Which eloquently throbb'd, as spoke his tongue; 
 She felt his kisses, and did not refuse 'em ; 
 His arms were round her, and she rather clung 
 Firmer to their embrace, than strove to loose 'em; 
 Nor did she speak until a sigh was wrung 
 From her by mental strife. — But, if I let her 
 Own words describe her feelings, 't will be better. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 'Twas not till Juan often had besought 
 Her to confirm his hopes or his despair, 
 That she found utterance for what she thought ; 
 And, then, she sigh'd and check'd a starting tear, 
 And strove to show a nonchalance, which naught 
 Conceal'd the anguish of her inward care ; 
 Nor was her pain disguis'd by what she utter'd, 
 More so than bread is when 'tis slightly butter'd. 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 " Juan, dear Juan, I can never be [sincere — 
 More than thy friend — though friend the most 
 Thy sister, whose best prayer shall be for thee ! — 
 Thy joy her bliss — thy pain her only fear ! 
 Oh ! would our sentiments could more agree, — 
 But even then thou couldst not be more dear !" 
 Here Juan snatch'd her to his heart and kiss'd her, 
 But not at all as if she'd been his sister. 
 
CANTO XVII. 29 
 
 " Juan, I will confess, I once did dream 
 
 Of being happy in becoming thine ; — ■ 
 
 Nay, my worst fear was, lest I might not seem 
 
 Worthy of one I almost held divine : 
 
 But, when I knew thee better, my esteem 
 
 Decreas'd, — although my love could not decline ! 
 
 Whisp 'rings I heard of many a sinful deed 
 
 The fame of which thy own vain lips had spread ! 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 " I do not call thee vicious ; but the first 
 
 Of vices is that utter thoughtlessness 
 
 With which man gratifies his evil thirst, 
 
 Without once thinking that he may distress, — 
 
 With which he perpetrates the very worst 
 
 Of cruelties — and still is pitiless ! 
 
 But can man's memory revert delighted 
 
 To ought that he has thus destroy'd or blighted ? 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 " I'll not believe it; Heaven would not place 
 
 A heart so black within so fair a form, 
 
 And thus the image of a serpent grace 
 
 With every beauty to dispel alarm, 
 
 Ev'n while he stings ! a morn of sunny peace 
 
 Too often ushers in a noon of storm ; 
 
 But still the storm does not, while it destroys, 
 
 Wear a bright look and promise future joys ! 
 
30 DON JUAN. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 " Yet have I fancied that I saw in thee 
 A cruel recklessness of consequence; 16 
 So that the moment brought its transient glee 
 It matter'd not at what — at whose expense ; 
 And, though thy youth from crimes has not been 
 A constant smile of vague indifference, [free, 
 Alike to past and future, lights thy brow, — 
 While even innocence looks mournful now ! 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 " I've heard thee mingle in the noisy laugh 
 Of worldlings whose sole wit is ridicule 
 Even of him whose treach'rous wine they quaff! 
 Poor slaves of that degenerating rule 
 Of education, which withdraws the staff 
 Of reason, and leaves man a worse than fool 
 To blunder, as he may, — so that with the 
 Great dogma he implicitly agree ! 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 " Oh how I've lov'd ! how anxiously I've strove 
 (For 'tis not easy unobserv'd) to watch 
 Thy every look — to see thy features move 
 In every change, — if possible to catch 
 A stray expression I might proudly love : 
 Never would drowning wretch more gladly snatch 
 At floating spar, than I one look would prize 
 Of thine, which I might love and not despise ! 
 
CANTO XVII. 31 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 I But no, alas ! I could not even find 
 A feeling- which affection might reclaim ; 
 And I am forc'd to turn from thee resign'd 
 To die a victim to a hopeless flame, — 
 Which preys upon my heart, but which my mind 
 Could never cherish, without fear of shame ! 
 Oh ! that the sacrifice of life could buy 
 Redemption for thee, — gladly would I die ! — 
 
 I Say not that I might, by my counsel, win 
 Thee from the ways of evil ; — true I might, 
 While yet my efforts were not " discipline" 
 But, from their very nov'lty, should delight : — 
 Still I might not, and, oh ! 'twere double sin — 
 Remember that, dear Juan — should thou plight 
 To me thy troth, unconstancy would be 
 To others cruel — cruel too, to me ! 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 1 Yet I could pardon thee, — but would so Heaven ? 
 Now thou can'st make the pitiful excuse 
 Of being left alone, — uncounsell'd, — driven, 
 By the world's forms, to bring into abuse 
 Its every law ; but could'st thou be forgiven, 
 Should thou permit temptation to seduce 
 Thee still, when vows most sacred shall secure 
 To me alone thy faith, intact and pure ? 
 
32 DON JUAN. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 " Yes, Juan, marriage is a fearful tie 
 Of ceaseless love and never failing faith, 
 Which only ends — when thou or I shall die ! — 
 A solemn sacrament which only death 
 Absolves thee from, — or else adultery, 
 A crime which God's own word prohibiteth ! 
 Life's very long, and but the good should take 
 An oath we are so liable to break ! 
 
 " Myself, I wish that Heaven would allow 
 Some other bond whose penalty were less, 
 Or else would so our mortal state endow 
 That we could never change and ne'er transgress ! 
 Many, too trusting in the marriage vow, 
 Strive not to keep the love, which cant digress, 
 Neglecting till they lose it ; — those too sure 
 Of being safe are worse than insecure ! 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 " And, after all, We 's not the slave of will ; 
 Neither a thing of course, because 'tis sworn ; 
 But must be won, and, when obtain'd, must still 
 Be won, as something that may yet be torn 
 From our possession, if attended ill ; — 
 By rust of negligence is armour worn 
 More than by usage, and, once cease to cherish 
 Its shining light, the brightest flame will perish ! 
 
CANTO XVII. 33 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 j* Yet I might counsel thee: — howmore than gladly 
 Would I devote my every thought to make 
 Thee happy and contented ! — still how madly 
 I shall behold thee, should I fail, forsake 
 My fond and anxious care !— and then how sadly 
 Would my lone heart endure, until 'tshould break! 
 But, — selfish fears ! there is a hope to serve 
 The being I adore, and shall I swerve ?" 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 In silence Juan had been gazing at her, 
 His arm around her waist, which she allow'd ; 
 May be, he thought her speech contain'd much 
 For he, poor fool ! had openly avow'd [matter; 
 That woman's talk is something more than clatter, 
 Which many think it, 'cause 'tis sometimes loud 
 And giddy p'rhaps.— God knows in more than one 
 sense [nonsense ! 
 
 Man's learned tongue can sometimes too speak 
 
 LXXXV1. 
 
 Myself, I'm one of those who can prefer 
 A good staid sermon , and not fall asleep : 
 But such, as like a something livelier, — 
 Playful and witty, on occasions deep, 
 Though rarely mathematical,— will err 
 Perchance, but not hold woman's tongue so cheap : 
 And I once did, when less " experienc'd," seek 
 To hear a very pretty woman speak. 
 P 
 
34 DON JUAN. 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 I once heard Tom — (But I must screen his nomen 
 From obloquy)— define the difference 
 Between the colloquy of man and woman ; 
 His was but art's, — her's nature's eloquence ; 
 His was a garden rang'd with great acumen, 
 Precision, study, labour and expense, — 
 Her's was a spot, no " garden," where one sees 
 The selfsame flowers, and walks more at ease ! 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 But I may wrong my hero, for, indeed, 
 Aurora's talk was very unconnected ; — [agreed 
 Replete with " yets" and " buts ;" — now she 
 To Juan's suit, — and now it was rejected, — 
 And now, again, she would agree,— then she'd 
 Retract ! thus Juan, 'tmay be, but reflected 
 'Twere best to let her tire her patience out, 
 And catch her then, as anglers do a trout. 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 Yet there was something in her indecision 
 Peculiarly sweet to Juan's ear ; 
 For, all her hesitation was admission 
 That he was — what he pray'd for — very dear : 
 In fact it was throughout the mere collision 
 Of strong affection and religious fear 
 And worldly prejudices, which were still 
 Employ'd to shelter him she loved from ill. 
 
CANTO XVII. 35 
 
 xc. 
 Such doubts were but such vapours as the sun, 
 By its own heat, extracts to overshade 
 Itself awhile, though mingled p'rhaps with one 
 Or two dark phantoms, which mankind have made 
 Themselves to bother, and to overrun 
 The sway of reason, yet which only aid, 
 By opposition, rather than obscure, 
 The brilliancy of nature, when 'tis pure. 
 
 xci. 
 Juan could only kiss the lovely lips 
 That said so much they meant him not to credit; 
 And he began to think " our partnership's 
 Concluded ';"■ but before Aurora said it 
 The lady Adeline in silence slips 
 Into their company and so delay 'd it. 
 Her ladyship retir'd, but passing near 
 Whisper 'd " Fitz-Fulke" into Aurora's ear. 
 
 xcn. 
 There was a something bitter in the tone, 
 Which Ad'line threw into the duchess' name, 
 Which ask'd Aurora whether she would own 
 A portion of her noble grace's fame, 
 That she thus dared to trust herself alone 
 With the licentious author of her shame ? 
 Aurora felt it so ; she could not speak, 
 But the bright blood forsook her blushing cheek. 
 
36 DON JUAN. 
 
 Ad'line retreated with a smiling face 
 
 And merry step ; but, when beyond the room, 
 
 Her foot was slacken'd to a graver pace 
 
 And her bright look was chang'd for one of gloom : 
 
 Did she so change with thought, of her sad grace ? 
 
 Or of Aurora — or of what — of whom ? 
 
 Alas, the honour of the female race ! [grace ! 
 
 She thought them sham'd — yet envied their dis- 
 
 xciv. 
 From Juan's arm, by which she was embrac'd, 
 Abruptly, rudely, did Aurora break 
 And turn to follow Adeline in haste ; 
 But Juan was not slow to overtake, 
 And place his arm again around her waist,— 
 Begging a reason why she should forsake 
 Him thus — while yet upon her lips his kiss 
 Was scarcely cold — uncertain of his bliss ? 
 
 xcv. 
 Tis not so easy for a virgin tongue 
 To argue with a man about his crim. 
 Cons,, and yet manage to say nothing wrong, — 
 Not ev'n a word that could encourage him 
 To rank her with the shameless, or among 
 Those worse than shameless, the reserv'd and prim ; 
 And yet Aurora did so in a style 
 That had not made the most abandon'd smile. 
 
CAWTO XVII. 37 
 
 XCVI. 
 
 Alas ! I cannot upon paper put 
 
 Those matchless graces of the eye and tone, — 
 
 The one half trembling, and the eye half shut 
 
 To hide a tear ; and as her words alone 
 
 Might not appear so very blushing, — but, 
 
 Suffice, it was inimitably done ; 
 
 Delicate, firm, discreet and comprehensive, 
 
 She made poor Juan stand on the defensive. 
 
 xcvu. 
 Vainly in answer Juan all his best did 
 To overthrow the charge, or to evade it ; 
 Both he and she were too much interested, — 
 Himself to contradict and she to credit : 
 In vain he strove ; the more that he protested 
 His innocence, the more was she persuaded, 
 And urged him to confess, the while implying 
 He aggravated his offence by lying. 
 
 XCVIII. 
 
 If there is aught which vexes us, 'tis the 
 Presumption which some people have to know 
 Our secret actions better far than we [though 
 Ourselves, — nay ev'n our secret thoughts, (al- 
 They are not things which every one can see) ; 
 Nay some there are who never will allow 
 Themselves mistaken, using for apology 
 Their skill in " physiognomy" or " phrenology!" 
 
38 DON JUAN. 
 
 Meantime the Duchess, who was rather shrewd, 
 Was anything but what we call " at ease ;" 
 She felt, at any rate, that now she stood 
 Expos'd to ridicule from those, who seize 
 All opportunity of being rude, 
 When they've a subject for their railleries !-— 
 Besides she put no faith in shades, and fear'd 
 The friar's ghost was more than it appear'd. 
 
 c. 
 She therefore wisely thought that it would look 
 Far better, at this crisis, to withdraw 
 From Norman Abbey, and rejoin the duke, 
 (For whom however she car'd not a straw) 
 Lest one might fancy that she really took 
 No interest in a spouse she never saw, — 
 And only eighteen happy months had pass'd 
 Since the fond couple saw each other last ! 
 
 ci. 
 She made her mind up when she understood 
 Her Lord had felt a whim to shoot, 
 And was come down into the neighbourhood ; 
 This she declar'd would most exactly suit 
 Her strength, which could not bear the lassitude 
 Of more than twenty minutes on a route ;— 
 And so she'd just step over and embrace 
 His dear, good, easy, long forgotten, Grace. 
 
CANTO XVII. 39 
 
 CIS. 
 
 She still was forc'd to look pleas'd with a deal 
 Of cruel wit, which made her bosom smart, — 
 And she had learnt to smile, yet mournful feel ; 
 But, when the moment was arriv'd to part 
 With Juan, not her efforts could conceal 
 The rankling fierceness of a baffled heart, 
 And thro' her smiles there glitter'd partly screen'd 
 The ready malice of a waken'd fiend. 
 
 It is more difficult than we expect 
 
 To stem the currents which most smoothly glide ; 
 
 The strongest vessels have 'ere now been wreck'd 
 
 In rashly struggling with a smiling tide; — 
 
 And how it chafes and rages if 't be check'd 
 
 With all the virulence of petty pride ! 
 
 'Twere safer perhaps to brave the stormy ocean 
 
 Than the bright torrent with its waveless motion ! 
 
 So bright the eye of the fair duchess blaz'd 
 With the despite of vanity insulted, 
 That Juan thought some fallen angel gaz'd, 
 And started back, as if he'd been assaulted ; 
 At which the lady's lip was still more rais'd 
 In bitter scorn : now would 't not have resulted 
 That she had been much fonder and less haughty, 
 If she, in fact, had made our Juan naughty ? 
 
40 DON JUAN. 
 
 And 'tmust be own'd her grace was hardly us'd ; 
 To find her love, which half the world would go far 
 And wide to gain, ungratefully refus'd, 
 When she to offer it descended so far ; 
 And yet, withal, to know herself accus'd, 
 Before she'd felt its sweetness, of a faux pas ! 
 Oh ! 'twas enough, if any thing could stir it, 
 To rouse the venom of a seraph's spirit! 
 
 cvi. 
 
 This little by-play of her grace was seen 
 
 Only by two, except that closeless eye 
 
 Which scans infinity (Heaven's, of course, I mean) ; 
 
 And those two were Aurora and not I, 
 
 But he who told me of it. Her spleen 
 
 Her grace conceal'd by artful raillery ; 
 
 And, going out,she took — who would imagine it? — 
 
 The arm of Lord Augustus Fitz-Plantagenet ! a 7 
 
 cvn. 
 Aurora notic'd the revengeful eye 
 With which the Duchess had her Don regarded : 
 She felt that woman never could defy 
 The man she loved unless she'd been discarded, 
 And thus concluded Juan had been shy 
 And had withstood, if ever Spaniard did, 
 The artful efforts of a fair allurer,— 
 Which consequently made him all the purer ! 
 
CANTO XVII. 41 
 
 CVIII. 
 
 True, she was rather quick in this conclusion ; 
 In one she lov'd too happy to discover 
 A quality, in which so very few shone 
 Conspicuous, and so useful in a lover, — 
 Bright chastity!— a thing which, reader, you shun 
 Of course, as a mere weakness long got over ; 
 But still the pretext though extravagant, did 
 To reconcile herself to what she wanted. 
 
 And now she was impatient to atone 
 For her suspicions, — at a sacrifice 
 Of blushes, to fall on his neck, and own 
 That she had wrong'd him by her prejudice : 
 Eager she watch'd till he should be alone, 
 That she might give unask'd a trembling kiss : 
 And this she thought an act of merest duty ; — 
 'Tis well some duties so exactly suit ye ! 
 
 ex. 
 
 Juan was musing, cursing, and complaining ; 
 Comparing mortal hopes to waves of gall 
 Which, rising, falling, changing, ne'er remaining 
 Toss the poor heart, as ocean's waves a yawl 
 Buoy up, and yet somehow without sustaining- 
 Pass from beneath, and still not let it fall- 
 Unsettling, buffeting, — oft hurry'ng it 
 Against some hidden rock, where it must split ! 
 
42 D07s T JUAN. 
 
 Cursing by turns the world that suffers evil 
 To go at large in woman's lovely shape, 
 Tempting the souls of mortals for the Devil 
 With looks of love ev'n saints could not escape ! 
 Complaining that Religion is uncivil, 
 To say the least, to those who're in the scrape, 
 For ord'ring them in this world to be vex'd 
 For the same fault which damns them in the next ! 
 
 CXII. 
 
 Then vowing that it ne'er could be unjust 
 For man to do what Providence must please ; 
 Besides there were some crimes which mankind 
 Commit, or live no longer at their ease ;— [must 
 He felt quite sure, if they were well discuss'd 
 Many such strange anomalies would cease ; — 
 And then 'twould save the Priests so much good time 
 Lectures and Sermons, if they quash'd the crime. 
 
 cxin. 
 Indeed he thought the moral code demanded 
 Thorough reform ; and, since the church was under 
 Consideration, would it not be candid 
 To own a portion of its moral thunder 
 Was somewhat useless, since, if ever man did 
 Half it requir'd, he would be thought a wonder? 
 He ask'd but this ; — why were his passions given, 
 If to indulge them so offended Heaven ? 
 
CANTO XVII. 43 
 
 CXIV. 
 
 Why was his bosom made so very prone 
 To feel the beauties of dear womankind — 
 Which was the only sin that he could own ? 
 If it was sinful, why was he not blind,— 
 For loving and beholding were all one ? 
 And, if he afterwards did change his mind, 
 It was his nature, which Heaven sure intended;— 
 Besides he only did what nine of ten did. 
 
 cxv. 
 But, what annoy'd him most, was to reflect 
 That all these dogmas sway'd Aurora's breast ; 
 So that her fondness wish'd more to correct 
 His many failings than to make him bless'd. 
 And why should she to his past loves object- 
 Since she herself had ne'er his heart possess'd, 
 Unless his constancy had been defective? 
 Sure jealousy is never retrospective ! 
 
 cxvi. 
 Now, all this argument was most heretical ! 
 And well it was his musings were not heard ; 
 Or else, perchance, some pious Theoretical 
 A blasphemous indictment had preferr'd ; [call 
 Not that I think he quite blasphem'd, and yet I 
 His reasoning, if not damnable, absurd :— 
 Pity that heroes, in an epic poem, [know 'em ! 
 Must have some faults that all their friends may 
 
44 DON JUAN. 
 
 CXVII. 
 
 Fortune is fickle, and is surely blind ; 
 
 For, if not blind, she 's very inconsistent, — 
 
 So harshly cruel, so unjustly kind! 
 
 Yet, like a prize fighter, whose learned fist a'n't 
 
 Directed ever with a hostile mind ! 
 
 Naught from the hopes of Juan was so distant, 
 
 When, round his neck, two virgin arms were flung, 
 
 And to his own two chaste lips trembling clung. 
 
 CXVIII. 
 
 How sweet how thrilling is the maiden kiss 
 Of mutual and confiding love, when both 
 First find the object of each other's bliss 
 Themselves ! — what need of any other oath, 
 More sacred or imperious than this 
 Indubitable evidence of troth ? 
 Oh, Love's first kiss ! — how well do I remember 
 My own ; — it warm'd me even in December ! 
 
 cxix. 
 Oh ! that first kiss ! — I want a simile ; 
 What is it like ? — a hero's first essay 
 In doubtful warfare grac'd with victory ? — 
 That's single joy ; the first successful lay 
 Which crowns a poet's dream ? — that's vanity 
 And single too ; the blessings that repay 
 A patriot's triumph in his country's cause ? — 
 Yet that were only " merited applause." 
 
CANTO XVII. 45 
 
 Let's see ; two doubtful hopes of bliss that meet 
 
 In one point of reality : the two 
 
 Walls of an arch are weak and incomplete, 
 
 Approaching tow'rds each other, tott'ring through 
 
 Their very inclination, — till concrete, 
 
 When their great power no weight can subdue :-r- 
 
 Like the keystone which gives an archway strength 
 
 Is love's first kiss ; — a simile at length ! 
 
 I've heard it liken'd to the seasoning that 
 Gives flavour to a glass of sherry negus, 
 Which is but water spoilt and wine made flat 
 (Ingredients which most certainly fatigue us) 
 Until 'tis sweeten'd. — But what are we at ? 
 If such our poetry we'd better league us 
 With those whose understandings are their bellies, 
 And only argue upon sweets and jellies ! 
 
 cxxn. 
 
 Long did their lips in silence cling together, 
 Breathing the speechless language of the heart, — 
 As if they fear'd to sunder, doubtful whether 
 They could rejoin, if once allow'd to part, — 
 A conscious dream too blissful for this nether 
 Existence, which the slightest stir might thwart ! 
 And, when their lips did part, 'twas to repeat 
 Their joy, — again to part, — again to meet ! 
 
46 DON JUAN. 
 
 CXXIII. 
 
 And now at length, exhausted with her bliss, 
 Aurora lean'd her head on Juan's breast,— 
 So feeble she could scarcely meet the kiss, 
 Which every instant he so warmly press'd 
 Upon her lips, that thought themselves remiss 
 And strove to overcome their want of rest. 
 And now their tongues, awaking from their trance, 
 For some fond vocatives found utterance. 
 
 cxxiv. 
 Short, fond, endearing epithets, succeeded 
 By an embrace and pause, — while still their eyes 
 Caress'd each other, and spoke all they needed ;— 
 And thus they'd gaze, oft murmuring broken sighs 
 Of swelling love, until their looks receded, 
 Dazzled by what they seem'd to idolize ! 
 And then, like springs, restrain'd apart in vain, 
 With sudden force, their lips would join again ! 
 
 cxxv. 
 But I've forgot to say, that, during this 
 Embracing business, Aurora's cheek 
 Was of a crimson hue, which colour is 
 Some evidence she came herself to seek 
 in love, not shamelessness, her Juan's kiss ; — 
 Although, alas ! (for human nature 's weak) 
 She blush'd from habit, and she could, no doubt, 
 Had blushes hinder'd her, have done without ! 
 
CANTO XVII. 47 
 
 CXXVI. 
 
 Yet many readers will conceive, I know, 
 That all this kissing work would end in harm ; 
 For th' amorous Don has proved himself not slow 
 To feel the influence of Beauty's charm, — 
 And, though Aurora 's chaste, " the purest snow," 
 "The chastest ice" would melt, if once made warm. 
 But I no more, at present, ask them than to 
 Condemn not till they've read another canto. 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 Note 1, Stanza ii. See Print shops (Ackermann's &c.) 
 
 " Where every ruin, cloud, and tree makes known a part 
 Of shades of Byron and Napoleon Buonaparte." 
 
 Poems by Captain — Somebody or other. 
 
 Note 2, Stanza vii. " Difficile est proprie communia dicere," is 
 the motto which Lord Byron has prefixed to his poem ; but it was not 
 reckoned a sufficient apology by a canting world, whose quibbling 
 criticisms occasioned the bitter conclusion of his preface to Cantos 
 vi. vii. and viii. I need not say that I take no part in any of the 
 thousand and one objections to this beautiful production; but, at the 
 same time, I would wish that every Author, who can command an 
 extensive perusal of his works, should avail himself of his enviable 
 power of conveying, without danger of offending, as much instruc- 
 tion as amusement, and should teach his readers the things which 
 ought to be, rather than merely describe those which are, — or cer- 
 tainly never neglect the former while attempting the latter. 
 
 Note 3, Stanza x. It may be the height of presumption in me to 
 imagine that any of my readers either should not have read " Don 
 Juan," or, having read, could possibly, in any way, forget whatever 
 a Byron has immortalized ; but, nevertheless, I will venture to, just 
 cursorily, remind any .=uch, if any such there be, of the situation of 
 our hero up to the end of Canto xvi. whence immediately I take 
 up the poem. After his unfortunate amours with Donna Julia and 
 black eyed Haidee, — after his ungallant rejection of the Sultana 
 Gulbeyaz, — after having taken parts in Dudu's dream and the siege 
 of Ismail, — and after having been the favourite of the Empress 
 Catherine, — Don Juan has, with his little Turkish protegee, Leila, 
 arrived in England, upon some secret mission from the Court of 
 Russia : he is on a visit at Norman Abbey, the seat of Lord Henry 
 and Lady Adeline Amundeville,— where he has evidently ingratiated 
 himself not only with his lovely hostess herself, but with several of 
 her fair guests,— with one of whom, the Duchess of Fitz-Fnlke, the 
 sixteenth canto leaves him in a very awkward situation, he having 
 
48 NOTES. 
 
 just mistaken her for the " Black Friar," the hereditary ghost of 
 the family. 
 
 Note 4, Stanza xxii. " The hall" may be considered as rather in- 
 appropriate, but it is where Lord Byron makes the scene take place ; 
 " Juan put forth one arm — Eternal Powers ! 
 It tonch'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." St. cxx. C. xvi. 
 Note 5, Stanza xxx. See Canto xv. Stanza xlix. 
 She marvell'd " what he saw in such a baby 
 As that prim, silent, cold Aurora Raby." 
 Note 6, Stanza xxx. See Canto xv. Stanza xlvi. 
 
 " She was a catholic too, sincere, austere." 
 Note 7, Stanza xxxi. See ballad of the " Black Friars," Canto xvi. 
 Note 8, Stanza xxxviii. See Canto xv. Stanza xlvi. 
 
 " And deemed that fallen worship far more dear 
 Perhaps because 'twas fallen." 
 Note 9, Stanza xxxix. The Bible represents Joseph himself as 
 " a goodly person and well favoured," but is quite silent as to Mrs. 
 Captain Potiphar's personal attractions ; although common sense 
 would infer that there would have been no great virtue in his re- 
 sistance, unless she also had been " fair to see." However, as this 
 important question is not conclusively set at rest in as many words, 
 a lady may be excused making the most of its obscurity, especially 
 for the praiseworthy purpose of redeeming the honour of her own 
 sex, upon so tender a point. By the bye, lest the heathen word 
 Adonis should be objectionable, I may as well state that the clas- 
 sical fable of Venus and Adonis 
 
 (" Who would a hunting go — the naughty boy ! 
 Rather than stay and with a goddess toy") 
 is considered to be a mere corruption of Joseph and his mistress. 
 Note 10, Stanza xliii. See Canto xv. Stanza xlv. 
 
 " All youth — but with an aspect beyond time ; 
 Radiant and grave — as pitying man's decline : 
 Mournful— but mournful of another's crime. 
 She looked as if he sat by Eden's door, 
 And grieved for those who could return no more." 
 Note 11, Stanza 1. Gulbeyaz. See Canto v. 
 Note 12, Stanza 1. Catherine of Russia. See Cantos ix. and x. 
 Note 13, Stanza li. Donna Julia. See Canto i. 
 Note 14, Stanza li. Haidee. See Cantos ii. iii. and iv. 
 Note 15, Stanza li. Dudu. See Canto vi. 
 
 Note 16, Stanza lxxv. " An utter recklessness of consequence." 
 Truly a very philosophical line for a young lady ; and, indeed her 
 whole discourse is very sententious and sermonlike, although, per- 
 haps, the woman cannot quite disguise herelf. In fact Byron has 
 made her a very difficult character, which only his own genius 
 could have done justice to. 
 
 " 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." C. xv. 
 Note 17, Stanza cvi. See Canto xiv. Stanza xlvii. 
 " Her late performance had been a dead set 
 At Lord Augustus Fitz-Plantagenet." 
 
 C. Whittingham.Tooks Court, 
 Chancery Lane. 
 
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