v: A O* /■ Tin" ?4°' THE COMPLETE WORKS OK LORD BYRON wirii A BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL NOTICE - BY J.W.LAKE, ESQ. VOL. II. 23ott Juan PARIS .-if torn ttje $reg0 of Juice Dibot senior, VI. ROE DU PONT-DE-LODI. PUBLISHED BY BAUDRY, RUE DU COQ-SaLnT-HONORK, AND AMYOT, RUE DE LA PA1X. 4825. CONTENTS OK THE SECOND VOLUME. Page. DON JUAN, A POEM. Canto 1 3 Notes to Canto 1 70 Canto II 81 Canto III i55 Notes to Canto III iqy Canto IV \ gg Notes to Canto IV 2 3g Canto V 2 4i Notes to Canto V 295 Preface to Cantos VI.— VII.— VIII 3or Canto VI 3o 7 Notes to Canto VI 34g Canto VII 35 £ Notes to Canto VII 38i Canto VIII 383 Notes to Canto VIII 43 r DON JUAN. A POEM. " Difficile est proprie communia dicere.- Hor. Epist.ad Pisou. VOL. If. DON JUAN CANTO I. I want a hero : an uncommon want, When every year and month sends forth a new one, Till, after cloying the gazettes with cant, The age discovers he is not the true one ; Of such as these I should not care to vaunt, I'll therefore take our ancient friend Don Juan, We all have seen him in the pantomime Sent to the devil somewhat ere his time. II. Vernon, the butcher Cumberland, Wolfe, Hawke, Prince Ferdinand, Granby, Burgoyne, Keppel, Howe, Evil and good, have had their tithe of talk, And filld their sign-posts then, like Wellesley now ; Each in their turn, like Banquos monarchs, stalk, Followers of fame, « nine farrow » of that sl I )onna Inez. CANTO I. XII. Her favourite science was the mathematical, Her noblest virtue was her magnanimity, Her wit (she sometimes tried at wit) was Attic all, Her serious sayings darken' d to sublimity ; In short, in all things she was fairly what I call A prodigy — her morning dress was dimity, Her evening silk, or, in the summer, muslin, And other stuffs, with which I wont stay puzzling. XIII. She knew the Latin — that is, « the Lords prayer, » And Greek — the alphabet — I 'm nearly sure ; She read some French romances here and there, Although her mode of speaking was not pure ; For native Spanish she had no great care, At least her conversation was obscure ; Her thoughts were theorems, her words a problem, As if she deemd that mystery would ennoble 'em. XIV. She liked the English and the Hebrew tongue, And said there was analogy between 'em ; She proved it somehow out of sacred song, But I must leave the proofs to those who 've seen em, Hut this I heard her say, and can't be wrong, And all may think which way their judgments lean em, « Tis strange — the Hebrew noun which means 'I am', The English always use to govern d — n. >• 8 DON JUAN. XV. XVI. In short, she was a walking calculation, Miss Edgeworth's novels stepping from their covers, Or Mrs Trimmers books on education, Or « Calebs' Wife » set out in quest of lovers, Morality's prim personification, In which not envy's self a flaw discovers, To others' share let « female errors fall,» For she had not even one — the worst of all. XVII. Oh ! she was perfect past all parallel — Of any modern female saint's comparison; So far above the cunning powers of hell, Her guardian angel had giv'n up his garrison ; Even her minutest motions went as well As those of the best time-piece made by Harrison : In virtues nothing earthly could surpass her, Save thine « incomparable oil» Macassar ! 2 CANTO I. y XVIII. Perfect she was, but as perfection is Insipid in this naughty world of ours, Where our first parents never learnd to kiss, Till they were exiled from their earlier bowers, Where all was peace, and innocence, and bliss, (I wonder how T they got through the twelve hours) Don Jose, like a lineal son of Eve, Went plucking various fruit without her leave. XIX. He was a mortal of the careless kind, With no great love for learning or the learnd, Who chose to go where'er he had a mind, And never dream 1 d his lady was concern 1 d : The world, as usual, wickedly inclined To see a kingdom or a house o erturn'd, Whisper 1 d he had a mistress, some said two , But for domestic quarrels one will do. XX. Now Donna Inez had, with all her merit, A great opinion of her own good qualities ; Neglect, indeed, requires a saint to bear it, And such, indeed, she was in her moralities ; But then she had a devil of a spirit, And sometimes mixd up fancies with realities, And let few opportunities escape Of getting her liege lord into a scrape. 10 DON JUAN. XXI. This was an easy matter with a man Oft in the wrong, and never on his guard ; And even the wisest, do the best they can, Have moments, hours, and days so unprepared, That you might « brain them with their lady's fan ;» And sometimes ladies hit exceeding hard, And fans turn into falchions in fair hands, And why and wherefore no one understands. XXII. Tis pity learned virgins ever wed With persons of no sort of education, Or gentlemen, who, though well born and bred, Grow tired of scientific conversation : 1 don't choose to say much upon this head, I'm a plain man, and in a single station, Hut — oh! ye lords of ladies intellectual, Inform us truly, have they not hen-peck'd you all ? XXIII. Don Jose and his lady fpiarrelld, — why Not any of the many could divine, Though several thousand people chose to try, Twas surely no concern of their \s or mine I loathe that low vice curiosity, But if there's any thing in which I shine, Tis in arranging all my friends' affairs, Xol having of niv own domestic cares. CANTO E. 11 XXIV. And so I interfered, and with the best Intentions, but their treatment was not kind ; I think the foolish people were possess'd, For neither of them could I ever find, Although their porter afterwards confess'd — But that s no matter, and the worst 's behind, For little Juan o'er me threw, down stairs, A pail of housemaid's water unawares. XXV. A little curly-headed, good for-nothing, And mischief-making monkey from his birth ; / His parents ne'er agreed except in doting Upon the most unquiet imp on earth ; Instead of quarrelling, had they been but both in Their senses, they 'd have sent young master forth To school, or had him soundly whipp'd at home, To teach him manners for the time to come. XXVI. Don Jose and the Donna Inez led For some time an unhappy sort of life, Wishing each other not divorced but dead ; They lived respectably as man and wife, Their conduct was exceedingly well-bred, And gave no outward signs of inward strife, Until at length the smother'd fire broke out, And put the business past all kind of doubt. 12 DON JUAN. XXVII. For Inez calld some druggists and physicians, And tried to prove her loving lord was mad, But as he had some lueid intermissions, She next decided he was only bad; Yet when they askVl her for her depositions, No sort of explanation could be had, Save that her duty both to man and God Required this conduct — which seem'd very odd. XXVIII. She kept a journal, where his faults were noted, And open'd certain trunks of books and letters, All which might, if occasion served, be quoted; And then she bad all Seville for abettors, Besides her good old grandmother (who doted); The hearers of her case became repeaters, Then advocates, inquisitors, and judges, Some for amusement, others for old grudges. XXIX. And then this best and meekest woman bore With such serenity her husbands woes, Just as the Spartan ladies did of yore, Who saw their spouses killd, and nobly chose Never to say a word about them more — Calmly she heard each calumny that rose And saw his agonies with such sublimity, That all the world exclaim d, "What magnanimity ! CAIN TO I. 13 XXX. No doubt, this patience, when the world is damning us, Is philosophic in our former friends; 'Tis also pleasant to be'deem'd magnanimous, The more so in obtaining our own ends; And what the lawyers call a « mains animus, » Conduct like this by no means comprehends : Revenge in person 's certainly no virtue, But then 'tis not my fault, if others hurt you. XXXI. And if our quarrels should rip up old stories, And help them with a lie or two additional ; 1 '??* not to blame, as you well know, no more is Anv one else — they were become traditional ; Besides, their resurrection aids our glories By contrast, which is what we just were wishing all, And science profits by this resurrection — Dead scandal forms good subjects for dissection. XXXII. Their friends had tried at reconciliation, Then their relations, who made matters worse; ('T were hard to tell upon a like occasion To whom it may be best to have recourse — I can't say much for friend or yet relation : The lawyers did their utmost for divorce, But scarce a fee was paid on either side Before, unluckily, Don Jose died. U DON JUAN. XXXIII. He died ; and most unluckily, because, According to all hints I could collect From counsel learned in those kind of laws, (Although their talk 'a obscure and circumspect) His death contrived to spoil a charming cause ; A thousand pities also with respect To public feeling, which on this occasion Was manifested in a great sensation. XXXIV. But ah ! he died \ and buried with him lay The public feeling and the lawyers 1 fees : His house was sold, his servants sent awa\ , A Jew took one of his two mistresses, A priest the other — at least so they say; I askd the doctors after his decease, He died of the slow fever calld the tertian, And left his widow to her own aversion. XXXV. Yet Jose was an honourable man, That l must say who knew him very well, Therefore his frailties I ll no further scan, Indeed there were not many more to tell ; And if his passions now and then outran Discretion, and were not so peaceable As Numas, who was also named Pompilius, lie had been ill brought up, and was bom bilious. CANTO T. 15 XXXVI. Whateer might be his worthlessness or worth, Poor fellow ! he had many things to wound him, Lets own, since it can do no harm on earth ; It was a trying moment that which found him Standing alone beside his desolate hearth, Where all his household gods lay shiver'd round him; No choice was left his feelings or his pride, Save death or Doctors 1 Commons — so he died. XXXVII. Dying intestate, Juan was sole heir To a chancery suit, and messuages, and lands, Which, with a long minority and care, Promised to turn out well in proper han«U Inez became sole guardian, which was fair, And answerd but to nature's just demands ; An only son left with an only mother Is brought up much more wisely than another XXXVIII. Sagest of women, even of widows, she Resolved that Juan should be quite a paragon. And worthy of the noblest pedigree (His sire was of Castile, his dam from Arragon Then for accomplishments of chivalry, In case our lord the king should go to war again He learn'd the arts of riding, fencing, gunnery, And how to scale a fortress — or a nunnery. 10 DON JUAN. XXXIX. Rut that which Donna Inez most desired. And saw into herself each day before all The learned tutors whom for him she hired, Was, that his breeding should be strictly moral; Much into all his studies she inquired, And so they were submitted first to her all ; Arts, sciences, no branch was made a mystery To Juan's eyes, except natural history. XL. The languages, especially the dead; The sciences, and most of all th 1 abstruse; The arts, at least all such as could be said To be the most remote from common use, In all these he was much and deeply read; Rut not a page of any thing that s loose, Or hints continuation of the species, Was ever suffer'd, lest he should grow vicious. XLI. His classic studies made a little puzzle, Because of filthy loves of gods and goddesses, Who in the earlier ages raised a bustle, hut never put on pantaloons or boddices llis reverend tutors had at limes a tussle, And for their ZEneids, Iliads, and Odysseys, Were forced to make au odd soil of an apology, For Donna [nez dreaded the m\ thology. CANTO F. 17 XLII. Ovid s a rake, as half his verses show him, Anacreons morals are a still worse sample, Catullus scarcely has a decent poem, I don't think Sappho's Ode a good example, Although 3 Longinus tells us there is no hymn Where the sublime soars forth on wings more ample; But Virgil's songs are pure, except that horrid one Beginning with Formosum Pastor Cory don. XLIII. Lucretius' irreligion is too strong For early stomachs, to prove wholesome food; I can't help thinking Juvenal was wrong, Although no doubt his real intent was good, For speaking out so plainly in his song, So much indeed as to be downright rude; And then what proper person can be partial To all those nauseous epigrams of Martial? XLIV. Juan was taught from out the best edition, Expurgated by learned men, who place, Judiciously, from out the school-boy's vision, The grosser parts ; but fearful to deface Too much their modest bard by this omission, And pitying sore his mutilated case, They only add them all in an appendix, ' Which saves, in fact, the trouble of an index; VOL. II. 18 DON JUAN. XLV. For there we have them all « at one fell swoop, » Instead of being scatter (1 through the pages; They stand forth marshalld in a handsome troop, To meet tV ingenuous youth of future ages, Till some less rigid editor shall stoop To call them back into their separate cages/\ Instead of standing staring altogether, Like garden gods — and not so decent either. XLVl. The missal too, it was the familv missal, Was ornamented in a sort of way Which ancient mass-books often are, and this all Kinds of grotesques illumined; and how they, Who saw those figures on the margin kiss all, Could turn their optics to the text and pray Is more than I know — but Don Juan's mother Kept this herself, and gave her son another. XLV 1 1. Sermons he read, and lectures he endured, And homilies, and lives of all the saints; To Jerome and to Chrysostom inured, He ditl not take such studies for restraints; But how faith is acquired, and then insured, So well not one of the aforesaid paints As Saint Augustine in his fine ( ionfessions, Which make the reader envy his transgressions. CANTO I. 1<) XLVIII. This, too, was a seal'd book to little Juan — I cant but say that his mamma was right, If such an education was the true one : She scarcely trusted him from out her sight ; jr maids were old, and if she took a new one You might be sure she was a perfect fright, She did this during even her husbands life — recommend as much to every wife. XL1X. Young Juan wax'd in goodliness and grace ; At six a charming child, and at eleven With all the promise of as fine a face As e'er to mans maturer growth was given ; He studied steadily, and grew apace, And seemd, at least, in the right road to heaven j For half his days were passd at church, the other Between his tutors, confessor, and mother. L. At six, I said, he was a charming child, At twelve he was a fine but quiet boy ; Although in infancy a little wild, They tamed him down amongst them ; to destroy His natural spirit not in vain thev toild, At least it seemd so ; and his mother's joy Was to declare how sage, and still, and steady . Her voung philosopher was grown already . 2. 20 DON JUAN. LI. I had my doubts, perhaps I have them still, But what I say is neither here nor there : I knew his father well, and have some skill In character — but it would not be fair, From sjre to son to augur good or ill : He and his wife were an ill-sorted pair — But scandal s my aversion — I protest Against all evil speaking, even in jest. LII. For my part I say nothing — nothing — but This I will say — my reasons are my own — That if I had an only son to put To school (as God be praised that 1 have none), Tis not with Donna Inez I would shut Him up to learn his catechism alone ; No — no — I d send him out betimes to college, For there it was I pickd up my own knowledge mi. For there one learns — t is not for me to boast, Though I acquired — but I pass over that, As well as all the Greek I since have lost : I say that there 1 s the place — but / 'ahum sal. I think I pickd up too, as well as most, Knowledge of matters — but no matter what,- I never married — but, I think, I know That sons should not be educated so. CANTO I. 21 LIV. Young Juan now was sixteen years of age, Tall, handsome, slender, but well knit; he seeni'd Active, though not so sprightly as a page ; And every body but his mother deemd Him almost man ; but she flew in a rage, And bit her lips (for else she might have screamd) If any said so ; for to be precocious Was in her eyes a thing the most atrocious. LV. Amongst her numerous acquaintance, all Selected for discretion and devotion, There Avas the Donna Julia, whom to call Pretty were but to give a feeble notion Of many charms in her, as natural As sweetness to the flower, or salt to ocean, Her zone to Venus, or his bow to Cupid ; But this last simile is trite and stupid. LVI. The darkness of her oriental eye Accorded with her Moorish origin ; (Her blood was not all Spanish, by the bye, In Spain, you know, this is a sort of sin. ) When proud Grenada fell, and, forced to fly, Boabdil wept, of Donna Julias kin Some went to Africa, some staid in Spain, Her great great grandmamma chose to remain. 22 DON JUAN. LV1I. She married (I forget the pedigree) With an hidalgo, who transmitted down His blood less noble than such blood should be; At such alliances his sires would frown, In that point so precise in each degree, That they bred in and in, as might be shown, Marrying their cousins — nay, their aunts and nieces, Which always spoils the breed, if it increases. LV1II. This heathenish cross restored the breed again, Ruin d its blood, but much improved its flesh ; For, from a root the ugliest in Old Spain Sprung up a brand) as beautiful as fresh; The sons no more were short, the daughters plain : But there's a rumour which I lain would hush, Tis said that Donna Julia's grandmamma Produced her Don more heirs at love than kn\ . LIX. However this might be, the race went on Improving still through every generation, Until it centred in an onl\ son, Who left an only daughter; my narration May have suggested that this single one Could be bnl Julia ( w hoiu on this occasion I shall have much to speak about), and she Was married, charming, chaste, and twenty-three. CANTO I 25 LX. Her eye (Tm very fond of handsome eyes) Was large and dark, suppressing half its lire Until she spoke, then through its soft disguise Flash' d an expression more of pride than ire, And love than either; and there would arise A something in them which was not desire, But would have been, perhaps, but for the soul Which struggled through and chastend down the whole. LXI. Her glossy hair was clusterd oer a brow Bright with intelligence, and fair and smooth; Her eyebrows shape Mas like the aerial bow, Her cheek all purple with the beam of youth, Mounting, at times, to a transparent glow, As if her veins ran lightning; she, in sooth, Possess'd an air and grace by no means common ; Her stature tall — I hate a dumpy woman. LXII. Wedded she was some years, and to a man Of fifty, and such husbands are in plenty; And yet, I think, instead of such a ONE, 'T were better to have two of five and twenty, Especially in countries near the sun : And now I think on t « mi vien in inente,» Ladies even of the most uneasy virtue Prefer a spouse whose age is short of thirty. 24 DON JUAN. LXIII. 'T is a sad thing, I cannot choose but say, And all the fault of that indecent sun, Who cannot leave alone our helpless clay, But will keep baking, broiling, burning on, ; That howsoever people fast and pray The flesh is frail, and so the soul undone : What men call gallantry, and gods adultery, Is much more common where the climate s sultry: LX1V. Happy the nations of the moral north ! Where all is virtue, and the winter season Sends sin, without a rag on, shivering forth ! (*f was snow that brought Saint Anthony to reason ;) Where juries cast up what a wife is worth, By laying whateer sum, in mulct, they please oil The lover, who must pay a handsome price, Because it is a marketable vice. LXV. Alfonso was the name of Julia's lord, A man well-looking for his years, and who Was neither much beloved nor yet abhorr'd ; They lived together as most people do, Suffering each other's foibles by accord, And not exactly either one or two; Vel he was jealous, though lie did not show it. For jealousy dislikes llie world to know it. CANTO I. 25 FAVI. Julia was — yet I never could see why — With Donna Inez quite a favourite friend ; Between their tastes there was small sympathy, For not a line had Julia ever penn'd : Some people whisper (but, no doubt, they lie, For malice still imputes some private end) That Inez had, ere Don Alfonso's marriage, Forgot with him her very prudent carriage ; LXVII. And that still keeping up the old connection, Which time had lately render d much more chaste, She took his lady also in affection, And certainly this course was much the Best : She flatter'd Julia with her sage protection, And complimented Don Alfonso's taste; And if she could not (who can?) silence scandal, At least she left it a more slender handle. LXVIII. I can't tell whether Julia saw the affair With other people's eyes, or if her own Discoveries made, but none could be aware Of this, at least no symptom e'er was shown ; Perhaps she did not know, or did not care, Indifferent from the first, or callous grown : I in really puzzledwhat to think or say, She kept her counsel in so close a way. 26 DON JUAN: LXIX. Juan she saw, and, as a pretty child, Caress'd him often, such a thing might he Quite innocently done, and harmless styled, When she had twenty years, and thirteen he ; But I am not so sure I should have smiled When he was sixteen, Julia twenty-three; These lew short years make wondrous alterations, Particularly amongst sun-burnt nations. LXX. Whateer the cause might be, they had become Changed ; for the dame grew distant, the youth shy, Their looks cast down, their greetings almost dumb, And much embarrassment in either eye ; There surely will be little doubt with some That Donna Julia knew the reason why, But as for Juan, he had no more notion Than he who never saw the sea or ocean. LXXI. Yet Julia's very coldness still was kind, And tremulously gentle her small band Withdrew itself from his, but left behind A little pressure, thrilling, and so bland And slight, so very slight, that Id the mind 'T was but a doubt ; but ne'er magician's wand Wrought change, w ith all Armida's lair\ art. Take what this light touch left on Juan s heart. CANTO I 27 LXX1I. And if she met him, though she smiled no more, She look'd a sadness sweeter than her smile, As if her heart had deeper thoughts in store She must not own, but cherish'd more the while, For that compression in its burning core ; Even innocence itself has many a wile, And will not dare to trust itself with truth, And love is taught hvpocrisy from youth. LXXUI. But passion most dissembles yet betrays Even by its darkness ; as the blackest sky Foretells the heaviest tempest, it displays Its workings through the vainly guarded eye, And in whatever aspect it arrays Istelf, t is still the same hypocrisy ; Coldness or anger, e'en disdain or hate, Are masks it often wears, and still too late. LXXIV. Then there were sighs, the deeper for suppression, And stolen glances, sweeter for the theft, And burning blushes, though for no transgression, Tremblings when met, and restlessness when left; All these are little preludes to possession, Of which young passion cannot be bereft, And merely tend to show how greatly love is Embarassd at first starting with a novice. 28 DON JUAN. LXXV Poor Julia's heart was in an awkward state ; She felt it going, and resolved to make The nohlest efforts for herself and mate, For honour's, pride's, religion's, virtue's sake ; Her resolutions were most truly great, And almost might have made a Tarquin quake ; She pray'd the Virgin Mary for her grace, As heing the best judge of a lady's case. LXXVI. She vow'd she never would see Juan more, / ^~And next day paid a visit to his mother, And look'd extremely at the opening door, Which, by the Virgin's grace, let in another ; Grateful she was, and yet a little sore — Again it opens, it can be no other, 'Tis surely Juan now — No ! — I 'm afraid That night the Virgin was no further pray'd LXXVII. She now determined that a virtuous woman Should rather face and overcome temptation. That flight was base and dastardly , and no man Should ever give her heart the least sensation ; That is to say, a thought beyond the common Preference, that Ave must led upon occasion, For people \\ ho arc pleasanter than others. But then i!ic\ oiik seem so many brothers. CANTO I. 29 LXXVIII. And even if by chance — and who can tell? The devil 's so very sly — she should discover That all within was not so very well, And, if still free, that such or such a lover Might please perhaps, a virtuous wife can quell Such thoughts, and he the better when they're over ; And if the man should ask, t is but denial : I recommend young ladies to make trial. LXXIX. And then there are such things as love divine, Bright and immaculate, unmix 1 d and pure, Such as the angels think so very fine, And matrons, who would be no less secure, Platonic, perfect, « just such love as mine :» Thus Julia said — and thought so, to be sure, And so I d have her think, were I the man On whom her reveries celestial ran. LXXX. Such love is innocent, and may exist Between young persons without any danger, A hand may first, and theai a lip be kiss'd ; For my part, to such doings I m a stranger, But hear these freedoms form the utmost list Of all o'er which such love may be a ranger ; If people go beyond t is quite a crime, But not my fault — I tell them all in time. 50 DOS JUAN. LXXXI. Love, then, but love within its proper limits, Was Julias innocent determination In young Don Juan's favour, and to him its Exertion might be useful on occasion ; And, lighted at too pure a shrine to dim its Ethereal lustre, with what sweet persuasion He might be taught, by love and her together — I really don't know what, nor Julia either. LXXXII. Fraught with this fine intention, and well fenced In mail of proof — her purity of soul, She, for the future, of her strength convinced, And that her honour was a rock, or mole, Exceeding sagely from that hour dispensed With any kind of troublesome control ; But whether Julia to the task was equal, Is that which must be mentioned in the sequel. LXXXIII. Her plan she deem d both innocent and feasible, And, surely, with a stripling of sixteen, Not scandals fangs could fix on much that 's seizable, Or if they did so, satisfied to mean Nothing hut what was good, her lu-cast was peaceable- A quiet conscience makes one so serene ! Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded That all the apostles would have done as the} did. CANTO I. 7)1 LXXXIV. And if in the mean time her husband died, But heaven forbid that such a thought should cross Her brain, though in a dream ! (and then she sigh'd) Never could she survive that common loss ; But just suppose that moment should betide, I only say suppose it — inter nos, (This should be entre nous, for Julia thought In French, but then the rhyme would go for nought.) LXXXV. I only say suppose this supposition ; Juan being then grown up to man's estate, Would fullv suit a widow of condition, Even seven years hence it would not be too late ; And in the interim (to pursue this vision) The mischief, after all, could not be great, For he would learn the rudiments of love, I mean the seraph way of those above. LXXXVI. So much for Julia. Now well turn to Juan, Poor little fellow ! he had no idea Of his own case, and never hit the true one ; In feelings quick as Ovid's Miss Medea, He puzzled over what he found a new one, But not as yet imagined it could be a Thing quite in course, and not at all alarming, Which, with a little patience, might grow charming 32 DON JUAN. LXXXVU. Silent and pensive, idle, restless, slow, His home deserted for the lonely wood, Tormented with a wound he could not know, His, like all deep grief, plunged in solitude ; I m fond myself of solitude or so, But then, I beg it may be understood, By solitude I mean a sultans (not A hermit's), with a haram for a grot. LXXXVIII. « Oh Love ! in such a wilderness as this, Where transport and security entwine. Here is the empire of thy perfect bliss, And here thou art a god indeed divine. » The bard I quote from does not sing amiss, ' With the exception of the second line, For that same twining « transport and security » Are twisted to a phrase of some obscurity. LXXXIX. The poet meant, no doubt, and thus appeals To the good sense and senses of mankind, The very thing which every body feels, As all have found on trial, or may find, That no one likes to be disturb 1 d ai meals Or love. — I wont say more about « entwined " Or « transport,» as we knew all that before, But bog « security» will boll the door. CANTO I. XC. oo Young Juan wander d by the glassy brooks, Thinking unutterable things ; he threw Himself at length within the leafy nooks, Where the wild branch of the cork forest grew ; There poets find materials for their books, And every now and then we read them through, So that their plan and prosody are eligible, Unless, like W ordsw orth, they prove unintelligible. XCI. He, Juan (and not Wordsworth) so pursued His self-communion with his own high soul, Until his mighty heart, in its great mood, Had mitigated part, though not the whole Of its disease; he did the best he could With things not very subject to control, And turn\l, without perceiving his condition, Like Coleridge, into a metaphysician. XCI I. He thought about himself, and the whole earth, Of man the wonderful, and of the stars, And how the deuce they ever could have birth ; And then he thought of earthquakes, and of wars, How many miles the moon might have in girth ; Of air-balloons, and of the many bars To perfect knowledge of the boundless skies And then he thought of Donna Julia's eyes. VOL. ii. 3 34 DON JUAN. XC1II. . — 7 In thoughts like these true wisdom may discern Longings sublime, and aspirations high, Which some are born with, but the most part learn To plague themselves withal, they know not why : T was strange that one so young should thus concern His brain about the action of the sky; If yOu think 't was philosophy that this did, I, can't help thinking puberty assisted. XCIV. He pored upon the leaves, and on the flowers, And heard a voice in all the winds; and then He thought of wood-nymphs and immortal bowers, And how the goddesses came down to men : He missd the pathway, he forgot the hours, And when he lookd upon his watch again, He found how much old time had been a winner — He also found that he had lost his dinner. xcv. Sometimes he turn d to gaze upon his book, Boscan, or Garcilasso ; — by the wind Even as the page is rustled while we look. So, by the poesy of his own mind, Over the mystic leaf his soul was shook, As if t were one whereon magicians bind Their spells, and give them to (he passing gale, According to some good old woman's tale. CANTO I. 55 XCVF. Thus would he while his lonely hours away Dissatisfied, not knowing what he wanted ; Nor glowing reverie, nor poets lay, Could yield his spirit that for which it panted, — A hosom whereon he his head might lay, And hear the heart heat with the love it granted, With several other things which I forget, Or which, at least, I need not mention yet. XCVII. Those lonely walks and lengthning reveries Gould not escape the gentle Julias eyes ; She saw that Juan was not at his ease ; But that which chiefly may and must surprise, Is, that the Donna Inez did not tease Her only son with question or surmise ; Whether it was she did not see, or would not, Or, like all very clever people, could not. XCVIJ1. This may seem strange, hut yet 'tis very common ; For instance — gentlemen, whose ladies take Leave to oerstep the written rights of woman, And break the — Which commandment is't they break .' (I have forgot the number, and think no man Should rashly quote, for fear of a mistake.) I say, when these same gentlemen are jealous. They make some blunder, which their ladies tell us :,. 30 DON Jl'AK. XCIX. A real husband always is suspicious, But still no less suspects in the wrong place, Jealous of some one who had no such wishes, Or pandring blindly to his own disgrace, By harbouring some dear friend extremely vicious ; The last indeed 's infallibly the case : And when the spouse and friend are gone off wholly, He wonders at their vice, and not his folly. Thus parents also are at times short-sighted ; Though watchful as the lynx, they ne'er discover, lie while the wicked world beholds delighted, Young Hopeful 1 s mistress, or Miss Fannys lover, "'ill some confounded escapade has blighted The plan of twenty years, and all is over ; And then the mother cries, the father swears, \ And wonders why the devil he got heirs. CI. But Inez was so anxious, and so clear Of sight, that L must think, on this occasion, She had some other motive much more near, For leaving Juan to this new temptation ; Hut w h:it that motive was, I sha' n't say here; Perhaps to finish Juan's education, Perhaps to open Don Alfonso s eyes, In ease he thought his w ile too great a prize. CANTO I. 7,7 CII. It was upon a day, a summers day ; — Slimmer j indeed a very dangerous season. And so is spring, about the end of May, The sun, no doubt, is the prevailing reason ; Hut whatsoe'er die eause is, one may say, And stand convicted of more truth than treason, That there are months which nature grows more merry in, March has its hares, and May must have its heroine. cm. T was on a summers day — the sixth of June : — I like to he particular in dates, Not only of the age and year, but moon ; They are a sort of post-house, where the Fates Change horses, making history change its tune, Then spur away o'er empires and o'er states, Leaving at last not much besides chronology , Excepting the post-obits of theology. ( IV. T was on the sixth oi June, about the hour Of half-past six — perhaps still nearer seven, When Julia sate within as pretty a bower As e'er held houri in that heathenish heaven Described by Mahomet, and Anacreon Moore, To whom the lyre and laurels have been given, With all the trophies of triumphant song — lie won them well, and may he wear them long ' 38 DON JUAN. ev. She sate, but not alone ; I know not well How this same interview had taken place, And even if I knew I should not tell — People should hold their tongues in any case ; No matter how or why the thing befel, But there were she and Juan face to face — When two such faces are so, t would he wise, But very difficult, to shut their eyes. CVI. How beautiful she look'd ! her conscious heart Glow'd in her cheek, and yet she felt no wrong. Oh Love ! how perfect is thy mystic art, Strengthening the weak, and trampling on the strong, How self-deceitful is the sagest part Of mortals whom thy lure hath led along — The precipice she stood on was immense, So was her creed in her own innocence. CVII. She thought of her own strength, and Juan's youth, And of the folly of all prudish fears, Victorious virtue, and domestic truth, And then of Don Alfonso's fifty years , I wish these last had not occur'd, in sooth, Because that number rarely much endears, And through all climes, the snowy and the sunny, Sounds ill in love, whateYr it may in money. CANTO I. 39 CVIII. When people say, « I ve told you fifty times, » They mean to scold, and very often do ; When poets say, « I Ve written fifty rhymes," They make you dread that they 11 recite them too ; In gangs of fifty thieves commit their crimes ; At fifty love for love is rare, t is true, But then, no doubt, it equally as true is, A good deal may be bought for fifty Louis. CIX. Julia had honour, virtue, truth, and love, For Don Alfonso; and she inly swore, Uy all the vows below to powers above, She never would disgrace the ring she wore, Nor leave a wish which wisdom might reprove ; And while she ponder d this, besides much more, One hand on Juan's carelessly was thrown, Quite by mistake — she thought it was her own ; CX. Unconsciously she lean d upon the other, Which plavd within the tangles of her hair; And to contend with thoughts she could not smother, She seem'd by the distraction of her air. 'T was surely very wrong in Juan's mother To leave together this imprudent pair, She who for many years had watehil her sou so — I in very certain mine would not have done so. / DON JUAN. CXI. The hand which still held Juan's, by degrees Gently, but palpably, confirm'd its grasp, As if it said, « detain me, if you please ;» Yet there 's no doubt she only meant to clasp His fingers with a pure platonic squeeze; She would have shrunk as from a toad, or asp, Had she imagined such a thing could rouse A feeling dangerous to a prudent spouse. CXIT. 1 cannot know what Juan thought of tins, But what he did, is much what you would do; His young lip thank' d it with a grateful kiss, And then, abashd at its own joy, withdrew In deep despair, lest he had done amiss; Love is so very tim^d wfren 't is new : She blush'd, and frown d not, but she strove to speak, And held her tongue, her voice was grown so weak. (XIII. The sun set, and up rose the yellow moon : The devil s in the moon for mischief; they Who calTd her chaste, methinks. began too soon Their nomenclature; there is not ;i da\ , The longest, not the twenty-first ol June, Sees half the business in a wicked way On which three single hours of moonshine smile — And ihen she looks so modes! all Ihe while. CANTO [. 41 CXIV. There is a dangerous silence in that hour, A stillness, which leaves room for the full soul To open all itself, without the power Of calling wholly hack its self-control; The silver light which, hallowing tree and tower, Sheds beauty and deep softness o'er the whole, Breathes also to the heart, and o'er it throws A loving languor, which is not repose. cxv. And Julia sate with Juan, half embraced And half retiring from the glowing arm, Which trembled like the bosom where 'twas placed ; Yet still she must have thought there was no harm, Or else 't were easy to withdraw her waist : But then the situation had its charm, And then God knows what next — I can't go on ; I 'm almost sorry that I e'er begun. C.XVI. Oh Plato ! Plato ! you have paved the way, With your confounded fantasies, to more Immoral conduct, by the fancied sway Your system feigns o'er the controlless core Of human hearts, than all the long array Of poets and romancers : — You 're a bore, A charlatan, a coxcomb — and have been, At best, no better than a go-between. 12 DON JUAN. CXVII. And Julia's voice was lost, except in sighs, Until too late for useful conversation ; The tears were gushing from her gentle eyes, I wish, indeed, they had not had occasion, But who, alas ! can love and then be wise? Not that remorse did not oppose temptation, — A little still she strove, and much repented, And whispering « I will neer consent" — consented. CXVIII. T is said that Xerxes offerd a reward To those who could invent him a new pleasure; Methinks the requisition \s rather hard, And must have cost his majesty a treasure : For my part, I 'm a moderate-minded bard, Fond of a little love (which I call leisure) ; I care not for new pleasures, as the old Are quite enough for me, so they but hold. CXIX. Oh pleasure! you re indeed a pleasant thing, Although one must be damn d for you, no doubt ; I make a resolution every spring Of reformation, ere the year run out; But, somehow, this my vestal vow takes win;;. Vet still, I trust, it ma\ be kepi throughout: I in very sorry, very much ashamed, And mean next winter, to be quite reclaim'd. canto i. ;.- cxx. Here my chaste muse a liberty must take — Start not! still chaster reader — she 11 he nice hence- Forward, and there is no great cause to quake ; This liberty is a poetic licence, Which some irregularity may make In the design ; and as I have a high sense Of Aristotle and the Rules, t is fit To beg his pardon when I err a bit. CXXI. This licence is to hope the reader will Suppose from June the sixth (the fatal day, Without whose epoch my poetic skill, For want of facts, would all be thrown away), But keeping Julia and Don Juan still In sight, that several months have pass'd ; we '11 say T was in November, but I 'm not so sure About the day — the era \s more obscure. CXX II. We '11 talk of that anon. — 'T is sweet to hear At midnight on the blue and moonlit deep The song and oar of Adria's gondolier, By distance mellowM, o'er the waters sweep: T is sweet i<> see the e\ cuing star appear; 'T is sweet to listen as the night-winds creep From leaf to leaf; 't is sweet to view on high The rainbow, based on ocean, span the sky. \\ DON JUAN. CXXI1I. 'T is sweet to hear the watch-dogs honest bark, Bay deep-mouthd welcome as we draw near home ; T is sweet to know there is an eye will mark Our coming, and look brighter when we come; T is sweet to be awakend by the lark, Or lulld by falling waters ; sweet the hum Of bees, the voice of girls, the song of birds, The lisp of children, and their earliest words. CXXIV. Sweet is the vintage, when the showering grapes, In bacchanal profusion, reel to earth Purple and gushing ; sweet are our escapes From civic revelry to rural mirth; Sweet to the miser are his glittering heaps, Sweet to the father is his first-born 1 s birth, Sweet is revenge — especially to women, Pillage to soldiers, prize money to seamen. GXXV. Sweet is a legacy, and passing sweet The unexpected death of some old lady Or gentleman of seventy years complete, Who ve made « us youth » wail loo — too Ion;; already For an estate, or cash, or country-seat, Still breaking, bm with stamina so steady , That ail the Israelites are fit to mob its Nexl owner for their double-damn d post-obits. CANTO I. j 5 GXXVI. T is sweet to win, no matter how, one's laurels, By blood or ink; 't is sweet to put an end To strife; 't is sometimes sweet to have our quarrels Particularly with a tiresome friend ; Sweet is old wine in bottles, ale in barrels; Dear is the helpless creature we defend Against the world ; and dear the schoolboy spot We ne'er forget, though there we are forgot. (XXVII. Put sweeter still than this, than these, than all, Is first and passionate love — it stands alone, Like Adam's recollection of his fall; The tree of knowledge has been pluck'd — all 's known- And life yields nothing further to recall. Worthy of this ambrosial sin, so shown, No doubt in fable, as the uuforgiven Fire which Prometheus filch'd for us from heaven. CXXVIII. Man s a strange animal, and makes strange use Of his own nature and the various arts, And likes particularly to produce Some new experiment to show his parts; This is the age of oddities let loose, Where different talents find their different marts You 'd best begin with truth, and when you've lost your Labour, there 's a sure market for imposture. ffi DON JUAN. CXXIX. What opposite discoveries we have seen ! (Signs of true genius, and of empty pockets) One makes new noses, one a guillotine, One breaks your bones, one sets them in their sockets; But vaccination certainly has been A kind antithesis to Congreve's rockets, cxxx. Bread has been made (indifferent) from potatoes; And galvanism has set some corpses grinning, But has not answer d like the apparatus Of the Humane Society's beginning, By which men are unsuffocated gratis : What wondrous new machines have late been spinning! CXXXI. CANTO I. fa C XXXII. This is the patent age oi new inventions For killing bodies, and for saving souls, All propagated with the best intentions; Sir Humphrey Davys lantern, by which coals Are safely mined for in the mode he mentions, Tombuctoo travels, voyages to the Poles, Are ways to benefit mankind, as true, Perhaps, as shooting them at Waterloo. (XXXIII. Man s a phenomenon, one knows not what, And wonderful beyond all wondrous measure; 'T is pity though, in this sublime world, that Pleasure 's a sin, and sometimes sins a pleasure; Few mortals know what end thev would be at, But whether glory, power, or love, or treasure, The path is through perplexing ways, and when The goal is gain'd, we die, you know — and then CXXXIV. What then? — I do not know, no morw do you — And so good night. — Return we to our story : 1 T was in November, when fine days are few r And the far mountains wax a little hoary, And clap a white cape on their mantles blue; And the sea dashes round the promontory, And the loud breaker boils against the rock, And sober suns must set at five p clock. 48 DON JUAN. GXXXV. T was, as the watchmen say, a cloudy night; No moon, no stars, the wind was low or loud By gusts, and many a sparkling hearth Avas bright With the piled wood, round which the family crowd ; There s something cheerful in that sort of light, Even as a summer sky s without a cloud : I 'ra fond of fire, and crickets, and all that, A lobster, salad, and champagne, and chat. CXXXVI. T was midnight — Donna Julia was in bed, Sleeping, most probably, — when at her door Arose a clatter might awake the dead, If they had never been awoke before, And that they have been so we all have read, And are to be so, at the least once more — The door was fastend, but with voice and fist First knocks were heard, then « Madam — madam — hist! cxxxvn. « For God's sake, madam — madam — here s my master, With more than half the city at his back — Was ever heard of such a curst disaster! T is not my fault — I kept good watch — alack ! Do, pray, undo the bolt a little faster — They re on the stair just now, and in a crack Will all be here; perhaps he yet may fly — Surely the window 's not so very high!» CANTO I. I!) CXXXVIII. By this time Don Alfonso was arrived, With torches, friends, and servants in great number; The major part of them had long been wived, And therefore paused not to disturb the slumber Of any wicked woman, who contrived By stealth her husbands temples to encumber : Examples of this kind are so contagious, Were one not punish 'd all would be outrageous; CXXXIX. I cant tell how, or why, or what suspicion Could enter into Don Alfonso's head; But for a cavalier of his condition m It surelv was exceedingly ill-bred, Without a word of previous admonition, To hold a levee round his lady's bed, And summon lackeys, arm d with fire and sword, To prove himself the thing he most abhorrd. CXL. Poor Donna Julia, starting as from sleep, (Mind — that I do not say — she had not slept) Began at once to scream, and yawn, and weep; Her maid Antonia, who was an adept, Contrived to fling the bed-clothes in a heap, As if she had just now from out them crept : I cant tell why she should lake all this trouble To prove her mistress had heen sleeping double. vol. ii. i 50 DON JUAN. CXLI. Hut Julia mistress, and Antonia maid, Appear d like two poor harmless women, who Of goblins, but still more of men afraid, Had thought one man might be deterr d by two, And therefore side by side were gently laid, Until the hours of absence should run through, And truant husband should return and say, « My dear, I was the first who came away. » CXLII. Now Julia found at length a voice, and cried, « In Heavens name, Don Alfonso, what d 1 ye mean? Has madness seized you? would that I had died Ere such a monsters victim I had been! What may this midnight violence betide, A sudden fit of drunkenness or spleen ? Dare you suspect me, whom the thought would kill ! Search, then, the room! » — Alfonso said, « I will.» CXLIII. He search'd, they searched, and rummaged every where, Closet and clothcs'-press, chest and window-seat, And found much linen, lace, and several pair Of stockings, slippers, brushes, combs, complete, With other articles of ladies fair, To keep them beautiful or leave them Deal : Anas they prick'd and curtains with their swords, And wounded several shutters, and some boards. CANTO I. 51 GXLIV. Under the bed they searched, and there they found — No matter what- — it was not that they sought ; They open'd windows, gazing if the ground Had signs or foot-marks, but the earth said nought, And then they stared each others 1 faces round : T is odd, not one of all these seekers thought, And seems to be almost a sort of blunder, Of looking in the bed as well as under. CXLV. During this inquisition Julias tongue Was not asleep — «Yes, search and search," she cried, « Insult on insult heap, and wrong on wrong; It was for this that I became a bride ! For this in silence I have suffer d long A husband like Alfonso at my side ; But now I 11 bear no more, nor here remain, If there be law, or lawyers, in all Spain. CXLVI. « Yes, Don Alfonso! husband now no more, If ever you indeed deserved the name, Is t worthy of your years? — you have threescore, Fifty, or sixty — it is all the same — Is 't wise or fitting causeless to explore I- <>r facts against a virtuous woman's fame ' Ungrateful, perjured, barb'rous Don Alfonso, ll<»\\ dare you think your lady would ;;<> on SO ' '.. 52 DON JUAN. CXLVII. « Is it for this I have disdain 1 d to hold The common privileges of my sex? That I have chosen a confessor so old And deaf, that any other it would vex, And never once he has had cause to scold, But found my very innocence perplex So much, he always doubted I was married? — How sorry you will be when I Ye miscarried. CXLVIIT. « Was it for this that no Cortejo ere I yet have chosen from out the youth of Seville? Is it for this I scarce went any where, Except to bull-fights, mass, play, rout, and revel? Is it for this, whate'er my suitors were, I favour 1 d none — nay, was almost uncivil? Is it for this that General Count O Reilly, Who took Algiers, declares I used him vilely?' 1 CXLIX. « Did not th 1 Italian Musico Cazzani Sing at my heart six months at least in vain? Did not his countryman, Count Corniani, Call me the only virtuous wife in Spain? Were ihere not also Russians, English, many? The Count Strongstroganoff I put in pain, And Lord Mount Coffee-house, the Irish Peer, Who kill'd himself for love with wine) last year. CANTO 1. 53 CL. « Have I not had two bishops at my feet? The Duke of Ichar, and Don Fernan Nunez, And is it thus a faithful wife you treat? I wonder in what quarter now tb p mnnn is ! I praise your vast forbearance not to beat Me also, since the time so opportune is — Oh, valiant man! with sword drawn and CQ_c k'd trigger, Now, tell me, don't you cut a pretty figure? CM. «\Vas it for this yovi took your sudden journey, Under pretence of business indispensible , With that sublime of rascals, your attorney, Whom I see standing there, and looking sensible Of having play d the fool? though both I spurn, he Deserves the worst, his conduct 's less defensible, Because, no doubt, 'twas for his dirty fee, And not from any love to you nor me. CMI. « If he comes here to take a deposition, By all means let the gentleman proceed ; You 've made th 1 apartment in a fit condition: — There's pen and ink for you, sir, when you need — Let every thing be noted with precision, I would not you for nothing should be feed — But as my maid 's undrcss'd, pray turn your spies out. « Oh! » sobb'd Antonia, « I could tear their eyes out. 54 DON JUAN. CLIII. « There is the closet, there the toilet, there The ante-chamber — search them under, over: There is the sola, there the great arm-chair, The chimney — which would really hold a lover. I wish to sleep, and bey you will take care And make no further noise, till you discover The secret cavern of this lurking treasure — And when t is found, let me, too, have that pleasure. GUV. « And now, hidalgo! now that you have thrown Doubt upon me, confusion over all, Pray have the courtesy to make it known — Who is the man you search lor? how d'ye call Him? what s his lineage? let him but be shown — I hope he s young and handsome — is he tall? Tell me — and be assured, that since you stain My honour thus, it shall not he in vain. CIA. « At least, perhaps, he has not sixty years, At that age he would be too old for slaughter, Or for so young a husband's jealous (cars — (Anton ia ! let me have a glass of water.) I am ashamed of having shed these tears, The\ are unworthy of my lathers daughter; My mother dream (I not in my natal hour Thai I should fall into a monster s power. CAIN TO I. 55 GLVI. « Perhaps t is of Antonia you arc jealous, You saw that she was sleeping by my side When you broke in upon us with your fellows : Look where you please — we \e nothing, sir, to hide ; Only another time, I trust, you'll tell us, Or for the sake of decency abide A moment at the door, that we may be Dress'd to receive so much good company. CLVII. « And now, sir, I have done, and say no more; The little I have said may serve to show The guileless heart in silence may grieve o'er The wrongs to whose exposure it is slow ; I leave you to your conscience as before, 'T will one day ask you why you used me so? And if you feel not then the bitterest grief! Antonia! where' s my pocket-handkerchief? » GLVIII. She ceased, and turn d upon her pillow ; pale She lay, her dark eyes Hashing through their tears, Like skies that rain and lighten ; as a veil, Waved and o'ershading her wan cheek, appears Her streaming hair; the black curls strive, but fail, To hide the glossy shoulder, which uprears Its snow through all ; — her soft lips lie apart, And louder than her breathing beats her heart. 56 DON JUAN. CLIX. The Senhor Don Alfonso stood confused ; Antonia bustled round the ransack'd room, And, turning up her nose, with looks abused Her master, and his myrmidons, of whom iSot one, except the attorney, was amused ; He, like Achates, faithful to the tomb, So there were quarrels, cared not for the cause, Knowing they must be settled by the laws. GLX. With prying snub-nose, and small eyes, he stood, Following Antonia s motions here and there, With much suspicion in his attitude ; For reputations he had little eare, So that a suit or action were made good ; Small pitv had he for the young and fair. And ne'er believed in negatives, till these Were proved by competent false witnesses. CLXI. Hut Don Alfonso stood with downcast looks, And, truth in sa\ , he made a foolish figure ; When, alter searching in five hundred nooks, And Heat in;; a \oini;; wile with SO much rigour, He gain'd no point, excepl some self-rebukes, Added to those I » i -> lad\ with such vigour Had poind upon Inm lor die last hall-hour, Quick, thi ' el heavy— as a thunder-shower. CANTO I. 57 CLXII. At first he tried to hammer an excuse, To which the sole reply were tears, and sobs, And indications of hysterics, whose Prologue is always certain throes and throbs, Gasps, and whatever else the owners choose ; Alfonso saw his wife, and thought of Job's ; , He saw too, in perspective, her relations, And then he tried to muster all his patience. CLXIII. He stood in act to speak, or rather stammer, But sage Antonia cut him short, before The anvil of his speech received the hammer, With « Pray, sir, leave the room, and say no more, Or madam dies.» — Alfonso muttei d « I) — n her,» But nothing else, the time of words was o'er; He cast a rueful look or two, and did, He knew not wherefore, that which he was bid. CLX1V. With him retired his posse comitatus, The attorney last, who linger'd near the door, Reluctantly, still tarrying there as late as Antonia let him — not a little sore At this most strange and unexplain'd hiatus In Don Alfonso's facts, which just now wore An awkward look; as he revolved the case The door was fastend in his Legal lace. 58 DON JUAN. GLXV. No sooner was it bolted, than — Oh shame ! Oh sin ! Oh sorrow ! and Oh womankind ! How can yon do such tilings and keep your liime, Unless this world, and t 1 other too, be blind? Nothing so dear as an unfilch'd good name ! But to proceed — for there is more behind ; With much heartfelt reluctance be it said, Young Juan slippd, half smother d, from the bed. CLXVI. lie had been hid — I don't pretend to say How, nor can I indeed describe the where — Young, slender, and packd easily, he lay, No doubt, in little compass, round or square; But pity him I neither must nor may His suffocation by that pretty pair; T were better, sure, to die so, than be shut5 With maudlin Clarence in his malmsey butt. CLXVII. And, secondly, I pity not, because He had no business to commit a sin, Forbid by heavenly, lined by human laws, \i leasl i was rather early to begin ; Bin ai sixteen the conscience rarely gnaw s So much as when we call our old debts in Ai sixty years, and draw the accompts of evil, And 1 1 in I a deuced balance with the devil. CANTO I. 59 GLXVIII. Of liys po sition I can givo no notion • ' T is written in the Hebrew chroniclg , Ho stile physicians, leaving pill and potion , Prescrib'd, by way of blister, a young belle, When old king Davids blood grew dull in motion, And that the medicine answer 1 d very well ; Perhaps t was in a different way applied, For David lived, but .Tnnn nearly died. GLXIX. What s to be done? Alfonso will be back The moment he has sent his fools away. Antonias skill was put upon the rack, But no device could be brought into play — And how to parry the renewed attack? Besides, it wanted but few hours of day : Antonia puzzled; Julia did not speak, But pressd her bloodless lip to Juan's cheek. GLXX. lie turnd his lip to hers, and with his hand Calld back the tangles of her wandYing hair ; Even then their love they covdd not all command, And half forgot their danger and despair : Antonias patience now was at a stand — « Come, come, t is no time now for fooling there," She whisperd, in great wrath — « I must deposit This pretty gentleman within the closet : 60 DON JUAN. CLXXI. r Pray, keep your nonsense for some luckier night, Who can have put my master in this mood ? What will become"on't — I m in such a fright. — The devil 's in the urchin, and no good — Is this a time for giggling? this a plight? Why don't you know that it may end in blood? You 11 lose your life, and I shall lose my place, My mistress all, for that half girlish lace. CLXXI I. « Had it but been for a stout cavalier Of twenty-five or thirty — (Come ; make haste) But for a child, what piece of work is here ! I really, madam, wonder at your taste — (Come, sir, get in) — my master must be near, There, for the present, at the least he's fast, And if we can but till the morning keep Our counsel — (Juan, mind, you must not sleep.") CLXXIII. Now, Don Alfonso entering, but alone, Closed the oration of the trusty maid ; She loiter'd, and lie told her to be ;;<>ne, An order soincu hat sullenly obev'd ; However, presem remedy was none, And no greal good seem'd answer d if she staid: Regarding both with slow and sidelong view, She snnll'd the candle, curtsied, and withdrew* CANTO I 1)1 CLXXIV. Alfonso paused a minute — then begun Some strange excuses for his late proceeding ; He would not justify what he had done, To say the best, it was extreme ill-breeding , But there were ample reasons for it, none Of which he specified in this his pleading ; His speech was a fine sample, on the whole, Of rhetoric, which the learn'd call rigmarole. CLXXV. Julia said nought ; though all the while there rose A ready answer, which at once enables A matron, who her husbands foible knows, By a few timely words to turn the tables, Which if it does not silence, still must pose, Even if it should comprise a pack of fables ; T is to retort with firmness, and when he Suspects with one, do you reproach with three. CLXXVI. Julia, in fact, had tolerable grounds, Alfonso's loves with Inez were well known ; But whether t was that ones own guilt confounds- But that can't be, as has been often shown, A lady with apologies abounds ; It might be that her silence sprang alone From delicacy to Don Juan's ear, To whom she knew his mother's fame was dear. 62 DON JUAN. CLXXVII. There might be one more motive, which makes two, Alfonso ne'er to Juan had alluded, Mentiond his jealousy, but never who Had been the happy lover, he concluded Conceald amongst his premises ; t is true, His mind the more o'er this its mystery brooded ; To speak of Inez now were, one may say, Like throwing Juan in Alfonso's way. CLXXVIII. A hint in tender cases is enough ; Silence is best, besides there is a tact (That modern phrase appears to be sad stuff, Rut it will serve to keep my verse compact.) AVhich keeps, when pushd by questions rather rough, A lady always distant from the fact — The charming creatures lie; with such a grace, There s nothing so becoming to the face. CLXXIX. They blush, and we believe them ; at least I Have always done so; 't is of no greal use, In any case, attempting a reply, For then their eloquence grows quite profuse - And when at length thev Ye out of breath, they sigh, And cast their languid eves down, and lei loose A tear or two, and then we make It up ; And then — and then — and then — sil down and sup. CANTO I. 65 CLXXX. Alfonso closed his speech, and begg d her pardon, Which Julia half withheld, and" then half granted. And laid conditions, he thought, very hard on, Denying several little things he wanted: He stood like Adam lingering near his garden, With useless penitence perplex 1 d and haunted, Beseeching she no further would refuse, When lo! he stumbled o'er a pair of shoes. CLXXXI. A pair of shoes'. — what then? not much, if they Are such as fit with lady s feet, but these (Xo one can tell how much I grieve to say) Were masculine; to see them and to seize Was but a moment's act. — Ah ! well-a-day ! My teeth begin to chatter, my veins freeze — Alfonso first examined well their fashion, And then flew out into another passion. CLXXXII. He left the room for his relinquished sword, And Julia instant to the closet flew, « Fly, Juan, fly ! — for Heaven's sake not a word — The door is open — you may yet slip through The passage you so often have explored. Here is the garden-key — fly — fly — adieu ! Haste — haste ! I hear Alfonso's hurrying feet — Day has not broke — there s no one in the street. 4* G\ DON JUAN. CLXXXHI. None can say that this was not good advice, The onlv mischief was, it came too late; < M all experience t is the usual price, A sort of income-tax laid on by fate: Juan had reach d the room-door in a trice, And might have done so by the garden-gate, But met Alfonso in his dressing-gown, Who threaten d death — so Juan knockVl him down, CLXXXIV. I )irc was the scuffle, and out went the light, Antonia cried out « Rape!» and Julia « Fire!» But not a servant stirrd to aid the fight. Alfonso, pommel I'd to his heart's desire, Swore lustily he d be revenged this night ; And Juan, too, blasphemed an octave higher, His blood was up; though young he was a Tartar, And not at all disposed to prove a inart\ i CLXXXV. Alfonso s sword had dropp'd ere he could, draw it. And they continued battling hand to hand, For Juan ven luckihj ne'ersawit; His temper aol being under greal command, II al thai momenl he had chanced to claw it, Alfonso's days had aol been in the land Much Longfer. — -Think of husbands . lovers h\cs! And how \cma\ bedoilbh widows — wi\cs' CANTO 1. 65 CLXXXVI. Alfonso grappled to detain the foe, And Juan throttled him to get away, And blood ft was from the nose) began to flow ; At last, as they more faintly wrestling lay, Juan contrived to give an awkward blow , And then his only garment quite gave way ; He fled, like Joseph, leaving it; but there, I doubt, all likeness cuds between the pan-. clxxxvii. Lights came at length, and men, and maids, who found An awkward spectacle their eyes before ! Antonia in hysterics, Julia swoond, Alfonso leaning, breathless, by the door, Some half-torn drapery scatter d on the ground, Some blood, and several footsteps, but — no more : Juan the gate gain'd, turnd the key about, And liking not the inside, lockd the out. CLXXXVIII. Here ends this canto, — need I sing, or sa\ , How Juan, naked, favour d by the night, Who favours what she should not, found his way, And reach 1 d his home in this unseemly plight? The pleasant scandal which arose next day, The nine days' wonder which was brought to light. And how Alfonso sued for a divorce, Were in the English newspapers, of course. vol. i. 5 06 DON .11 AN. CLXXXIX. If vou would like to see the whole proceedings, The depositions, and the cause at full, The names of all the witnesses, the pleadings Of counsel to non-suit, or to annul, There s more than one edition, and the readings Are various, hut they none of them are dull, The best is that in short-hand taen by Gurnex . Who to Madrid on purpose made a journey. CXC. But Donna Inez, to divert the train Of one of the most circulating scandals That had for centuries been known in Spain, At least since the retirement of the Vandals, First vow d (and never had she vowd in vain) To Virgin Mary several pounds of candles; And then, by the advice of some old ladies, She sent her son to be shipp d off from Cadiz. CXCI. >\\e had resolved that he should travel through All European climes, by laud or sea, To mend his former morals, and get new, Especially in France and Italy (At least this is the thing most people do). Julia was scut into a convent; she Grieved, but, perhaps, her Eeelings may be better Jhown in the following copy of her letter. CANTO I. G7 CXCII. « They tell me t is decided ; you depart : 'T is wise — t is well, but not the less a pain ; 1 have no further claim on your young heart, Mine is the victim, and would be again ; To love too much has been the only art I used ; — [ write in haste, and if a stain Be on this sheet, t is not what it appears, My eyeballs burn and throb, but have no tears. CXCIII. « I loved, I love you, for this love have lost State, station, heaven, mankinds, my own esteem, And yet cannot regret what it hath cost, So dear is still the memory of that dream ; Yet, if I name my guilt, t is not to boast, None can deem harshlier of me than I deem : I trace this scrawl because I cannot rest — I ve nothing to reproach, or to request. CXCIV. « Man's love is of man s life a thing apart, T is woman's whole existence ; man may ran The court, camp, church, the vessel, and the mar Sword, gown, gain, glory, offer in exchange Pride, fame, ambition, to fdl up his heart, And few there are, whom these cannot estra Men have all these resources, we but one, To love again, and be again undone. OS DON J LAN. cxcv. « You Mali proceed in pleasure, and in pride, Beloved, and loving many ; all is o'er For me on earth, except some years to hide My shame and sorrow deep in my heart's core ; These I could hear, but cannot cast aside The passion which still rages as before ; And so farewell — forgive me, love me — ISo, That word is idle now — but let it go. GXCVI. « My breast has been all weakness, is so yet ; But still I think I can collect my mind ; My blood still rushes where my spirit's set, As roll the waves before the settled wind ; My heart is feminine, nor can forget — To all, except one image, madly blind ; So shakes the needle, and so stands the pole, As vibrates my fond heart to my fix'd soul. GXCVII. « I have no more to say, but linger still, And dare not set my seal upon this sheet, \inl yet I may as well the task fulfil, My misery can scarce be more complete: I had mil lived till now, COllld sorrow kill ; Death shuns tin; wretch who lain the blow would meet, And I milSl even survive this lasl adieu, And bear with life, i<» love and pray for you!» CANTO I. (39 cxcviii. This note was written upon gilt-edged paper With a neat little crow quill, slight and new ; lier small white hand could hardly reach the taper, It trembled as magnetic needles do, And yet she did not let one tear escape her ; The seal a sunflower ; Elle vous suit partuiil , The motto, cut upon a white cornelian ; The wax was superfine, its hue vermilion. CXCIX. This was Don Juan s earliest scrape ; but whether I shall proceed with his adventures is Dependant on the public altogether ; We 11 see, however, what they say to this, Their favour in an authors cap s a feather, And no great mischief s done by their caprice ; And if their approbation we experience, Perhaps they'll have some more about a year hence. CG. M\ poem s epic, and is incatii to be Divided in twelve books ; each book containing, With love and war, a heavy gale a( sea, A list of ships, and captains, and kings reigning, Ncav characters ; the episodes are three : A panorama view of hell ? s in training Alter the style of Virgil and of Homer, So that my name of epic's no misnomer. 70 DON JUAN. CCI. All these things will be specified in time, With strict regard to Aristotle's rules, The vade mecicai of the true sublime, Which makes so many poets, and some fools : Prose poets like blank verse, I m fond of rhyme. Good workmen never quarrel with their tools ; I Ye got new mythological machinery, And very handsome supernatural scenery. CCII. There's only one slight difference between Me and my epic brethren gone before, And here the advantage is my own, I ween ; (Not that I have not several merits more, Hut this will more peculiarly be seen) They so embellish, that t is quite a bore Their la by r inth of fables to thread through, Whereas this story s actually true. CCI 1 1. If any person doubt it, I appeal To history, tradition, and to facts, To newspapers, whose truth all know and feel, To plays in five, and operas in three acts ; All these confirm my statement a good deal, Bui thai w I tie 1 1 more completely faith exacts Is, that myself, and several now in Seville, Siiw Juan s last elopemenl with the devil. CANTO I. 71 CCIV If ever I should condescend to prose, I'll write poetical commandments, which Shall supersede beyond all doubt all those That went before ; in these I shall enrich My text with many things that no one knows, And carry precept to the highest pitch ; 1 '11 call the work « Longinus o'er a Bottle ; Or, Every Poet his own Aristotle. » ccv. Thou shalt believe in Milton, Dryden, Pope ; * Thou shalt not set up Wordsworth, Coleridge, Southey, Because the first is crazed beyond all hope, The second drunk, the third so quaint and mouthey ; With Crabbe it may be difficult to cope, And Campbells Hippocrene is somewhat drouthy . Thou shalt not steal from Samuel Bogers, nor Commit flirtation with the muse of Moore. CCVI. Thou shalt not covet Mr Sotheby's muse, His Pegasus, nor any thing that's his ; Thou shalt not bear false witness like « the Blues, » (There's one, at least, is very fond of this;) Thou shalt not write, in short, but what I choose : This is true criticism, and you may kiss — Kxactly as you please, or not, the rod, lint if you don't, I 11 lay it on by . . . ! 72 DON JUAN. CCVII. If any person sliould presume to assert This story is not moral, first, I pray That they will not cry out before they re hurt, Then that they'll read it o'er again, and say (But, doubtless, nobody Avill be so pert) That this is not a moral tale, though gay ; Besides, in canto twelfth, I mean to show, Tbe very place; where wicked people go. CCVIII. If, after all, there should be some so blind To their own good, this warning to despise. Led by some tortuosity of mind, Not to believe my verse and their own eyes, And cry that they « the moral cannot find,» I tell him, if a clergyman, he lies ; Should captains the remark or critics make. They also lie too — under a mistake. GCIX. The public approbation I expect, \ii.l be;; I luw '1! take in v word about the moral , Which I with their amusemenl will connect, So children cutting teeth receive a coral;) Meantime, the\ 'II doubtless please to recollect My epical pretensions io the laurel : For fear some prudish readers should grow skittish, I ve hi -ilx d m\ grandmother's review — the British. CANTO J. 73 CCX. I sent it in a letter to the editor, Who thankd me duly by return of post — I m for a handsome article his creditor; Yet, if my gentle muse he please to roast, And break a promise after having made it her, Denying the receipt of what it cost, And smear his page with gall instead of honey, J All I can say is — that he had the money. GCXI. I think that with this holy new alliance I may ensure the public, and defy All other magazines of art or science, Daily, or monthly, or three monthly; I Have not essay 1 d to multiply their clients, Because they tell me t were in vain to try, And that the Edinburgh Review, and Quarterly, Treat a dissenting author very martyrly. GCXII. Non ego ferrem calidd juventd Consule Planco, Horace said, and so Say I ; by which quotation there is meant a Hint that some six or seven good years ago (Long ere I dreamt of dating from the Brenta) I was most ready to return a blow, And would not brook at all this sort of thing lu my hoi youth — when George the Third was king. 74 DON JUAN. CCXITI. I i But now at thirty years my hair is gray — (I wonder what it will be like at forty? I thought of a peruke the other day) My heart is not much greener ; and, in short, I Have squander 1 d my whole summer while t was May, And feel no more the spirit to retort ; I Have spent my life, both interest and principal, And deem not, wha t I dp em'd, my snul invineihle CCX1V. No more — no more — Oh ! never more on me The freshness of the heart can fall like dew, Which out of all the lovely things we see Extracts emotions beautiful and new, Hived in our bosoms like the bag o 1 the bee : Thinkst thou the honey with those objects grew? Alas ! t was not in them, but in thy power To double even the sweetness of a flower. ccxv. No more — no more — Oh ! never more, mv heart, Canst thou be my sole world, my universe ! ( face all in all, but now a thing apart, Thou canst not be iny blessing or my curse : The illusion s gone for ever, and thou art Insensible, I trust, bill none the worse, And in ihv stead l\e got a deal of judgment, Though Heaven knows how it ever found a Lodgement CANTO I. 75 CCXVI. My day's of love are over; me no more 7 The charms of maid, wife, and still less of widow, Can make the fool of which they made hefore, In short I must not lead the life I did do ; The credulous hope of mutual minds is o'er, The copious use of claret is forhid too, So for a goodjnM-^njtamanJy__yice, I think I must take up with avarice. CCXVII. Ambition was my idol, which was broken Before the shrines of sorrow and of pleasure, And the two last have left me many a token O'er which reflection may be made at leisure : Now, like Friar Bacon's brazen head, I 've spoken, « Time is, time was, time's past,» a chymic treasure Is ^littering_youth, which I have spent betimes- My heart in passion, and my head on rhymes. CCXV1II. W hat is the end of lame ? t is but to (i 1 1 A certain portion of uncertain paper; Some liken it to climbing up a hill, Whose summit, like all hills, is lost in vapour : For this men write, speak, preach, and heroes kill, And bards burn what they call their « midnight taper," To have, when the original is dust, A name, a wretched picture, and worse bust. 70 DON JUAN. CCXIX. What are the hopes of man ? old Egypt's king Cheops erected the first pyramid And largest, thinking it was just the thin- To keep his memory whole, and mummy hid ; But somebody or other rummaging, Burglariously broke his coffins lid : Let not a monument give you or me hopes, Since not a pinch of dust remains of Cheops. ccxx. Hut I, being fond of true philosophy, Say very often to myself, « Alas ! All things that have been born were born to die, And flesh (which death mows down to hay) is grass ; You've pass'd your youth not so unpleasantK , And if you had it o'er again — 't would pass — So thank your stars that matters are no worse, And read your bible, sir, and mind your purse. » CCXX I. I5nt For the present, gentle reader! and Still gentler purchaser ! the bard — that's 1 — Must, with permission, shake you by the hand, And so your humble servant, and good bye! We meel again, if we should understand Each oilier; and if not, I shall not ti \ Your patience further than li\ this short sample — T were well if others follow'd m\ example. CANTO I. 77 Ccxxii. « Go, little book, from this my solitude ! I cast thee on the waters — go thy ways ! And if, as I believe, thy vein be good, The world will find thee after many days. » When Southey 's read, and Wordsworth understood, I can't help putting in my claim to praise — The four first rhymes are Southeys every line : For God's sake ! reader, take them not for mine;. END OF CANTO FIRST. NOTES TO CANTO I. Note i, page 4, stanza v. Brave men were living before Agamemnon, etc "Vixere fortes ante Agamemnon a, » etc. — Hon ace. Note 2, page 8, stanza xvn. Save thine « incomparable oil,» Macassar! "Description des vertus incomparables de l'huile de Macassar. » — See the Advertisement. Note 3, page 17, stanza xlii. Although Longinus tells us there is no hymn Where the sublime soars forth on wings more ample; etc. See Longinus, Section 10, utvct /j.yi iv n mpl oanrijv Tzcr-Qos yaivrjToa, nv.dw ok cruvooo;. » Note 4, page 17, stanza xliv. They only add them all in an appendix, etc. Fact. There is, or was, such au edition, with all the obnoxious epigrams of Martial placed by themselves at the end. Note 5, page 32, stanza lxxxviii. The bard I quote from does not sing amiss, etc. Campbell's Gertrude of Wyoming, (I think) the opening of Canto II, but quote from memory. 80 NOTES TO CANTO I Note 6, page 5a, stanza cxlviii. Is it for this that General Count O'Reilly, Who took Algiers, declares I used him vilely ? Donna Julia here made a mistake. Count O'Reilly did not take Algiers — but Algiers very nearly took him: he and his army and fleet retreated with great loss, and not much credit, from before that city in the year 17 — . Note 7, page 75, stanza ccxvi. « My days of love are over; me no more ett Me uec feuiina, ncc pucr Jam, nee spes animi credula niului, Nee certare juvat mero; Nee vincire novis tempora floribus.» DON JUAN. CANTO II. I. Oh ye ! who te^ch the ingenuous youth of nations, Holland, France, England, Germany, or Spain, I pray ye flog them upon all occasions, It mends their morals ; never mind the pain : The best of mothers and of educations In Juan's case were but employ 'd in vain, Since in a way, that 's rather of the oddest, he Became divested of his native modesty. II. Had he but been placed at a public school, In the third form, or even in the fourth, His daily task had kept his fancy cool, At least, had he been nurtured in the north ; Spain may prove an exception to the rule, But then exceptions always proves its worth — A lad of sixteen causing a divorce, Puzzled his tutors very much, of course. VOL. II. G 82 DON JUAN. III. I can't say that it puzzles me at all, If all things be consider' d : first there was His lady mother, mathematical, A never mind ; his tutor an old ass ; A pretty woman — (that's quite natural, Or else the thing had hardly come to pass;) A husband rather old, not much in unity With his young wife — a time, and opportunity. IV. (Well — well, the world must turn upon its axis, And all mankind turn with it, heads or tails ; And live and die, make love and pay our taxes, \ And as the veering wind shifts, shift our sails ; 'The king commands us, and the doctor quacks us, The priest instructs, and so our life exhales, A little breath, love, wine, ambition, fame, lighting, devotion, dust — perhaps a name. I said, that Juan had been sent to Cadiz — A pretty town — I recollect it well — T is there the mart of the colonial trade is, (Or was, before Peru Learn d to rebel) And such sweet girls — I mean such graceful ladies, Their very walk would make your bosom swell ; I can't describe it, though so much it strike, Nor liken it — I never saw the like : CANTO II. 83 VI. An Arab horse, a stately stag, a barb New broke, a camelopard, a gazelle, No — none of these will do : — and then their garb ! Their veil and petticoat — Alas ! to dwell Upon such things, would very near absorb A canto — then their feet and ancles — well, Thank Heaven I \ e got no metaphor quite ready, (And so, my sober muse — come let s be steady — VII. Chaste muse ! — well, if you must, you must) — the veil Thrown back a moment with the glancing hand, While the o'erpowering eye, which turns you pale, Flashes into the heart: — All-sunny land Of love ! when I forget you, may I fail To — say my prayers — but never was there plannd A dress through which the eyes give such a volley, Excepting the Venetian Fazzioli. VIII. But to our tale : — The Donna Inez sent Her son to Cadiz only to embark ; To stay there had not answer d her intent; But why ? — we leave the reader in the dark — T was for a voyage the young man was meant, As if a Spanish ship were Noah's ark, To wean him from the wickedness of earth , And send him, like a dove of promise, forth. 6. 84 DON JUAN. IX. Don Juan bid his valet pack his things According to direction ; then received A lecture and some money; for four springs He was to travel ; and though Inez grieved (As every kind of parting has its stings), She hoped lie would improve — perhaps believed ; A letter, too, she gave (he never read it) Of good advice — and two or three of credit. X. In the mean time, to pass her hours away, Brave Inez now set up a Sunday school For naughty children, who would rather play (Like truant rogues) the devil, or the fool ; Infants of three years old were taught that day, Dunces were whipt, or set upon a stool : The great success of Juan's education, Spurr'd her to teach another generation. XI. Juan embark'd — the ship got under-weigh, The wind was fair, the water passing rough ; A devil of a sea rolls in that bay, As I, who 've crosscl it oft, know well enough ; And, standing upon deck, the dashing spray I lies in one's face, and makes it weather-tough. Ami there lie stood to take, ami take again, 1 J is first, perhaps his last — farewell of Spain CANTO 11. 85 XII. I cant but say it is an awkward sight To see ones native land receding through The growing waters ; it unmans one quite, Especially when life is rather new : I recollect Great Britain's coast looks white, But almost every other country s blue, When gazing on them, mystified by distance, We enter on our nautical existence. XIII. So Juan stood, bewilder d, on the deck : The wind sung, cordage straind, and sailors swore, And the ship creakd, the town became a speck, From which away so fair and fast they bore. The best of remedies is a beef-steak Against sea-sickness : try it, sir, before You sneer, and I assure you this is true, For I have found it answer — so may you. XIV. Don Juan stood, and, gazing from the stern, Beheld his native Spain receding far : First partings form a lesson hard to learn, Even nations feel this when they go to \ There is a sort of unexpressd concern, A kind of shock that sets one's heart aja At leaving even the most unpleasant peop And places, one keeps looking at the stee 86 DON JUAN. XV. But Juan had got many things to leave, His mother, and a mistress, and no wife, So that he had much better cause to grieve Than many persons more advanced in life ; And if we now and then a sigh must heave At quitting even those we quit in strife, No doubt we weep for those the heart endears — That is, till deeper griefs congeal our tears. XVI. So Juan wept, as wept the captive Jews By Babel's waters, still remembering Sion : I 'd weep, but mine is not a weeping muse, And such light griefs are not a thing to die on; Young men should travel, if but to amuse Themselves ; and the next time their servants tie on Behind their carriages their new portmanteau, Perhaps it may be lined with this my canton XVII. And Juan wept, and much he sighd and thought, While his salt tears dropp'd into the salt sea, « Sweets to the sweet ;» (I like so much to quote ; You must excuse this extract, tis where she, The Queen of Denmark, for Ophelia brought Flowers to the grave ; ) and, sobbing often, he Reflected on his present situation, And seriously resolved on reformation. CANTO II. 87 XVIII. « Farewell, my Spain ! a long farewell! » he cried, « Perhaps I may revisit thee no more, But die, as many an exiled heart hath died, Of its own thirst to see again thy shore : Farewell, where Guadalquiver's waters glide ! Farewell, my mother! and since all is o'er, Farewell, too, dearest Julia! — (here he drew Her letter out again, and read it through. ) XIX. « And oh! if e'er I should forget, I swear — But that 's impossible, and cannot be — Sooner shall this blue ocean melt to air, Sooner shall earth resolve itself to sea, Than I resign thine image, oh ! my fair! Or think of any thing excepting thee ; A mind diseased no remedy can physic » — Here the ship gave a lurch, and he grew sea-sick. XX. « Sooner shall heaven kiss earth » — (here he fell sicker) « Oh, Julia, what is every other wo? — ( For God's sake let me have a glass of liquor — Pedro! Battista! help me down below,) Julia, my love! — (you rascal, Pedro, quicker) Oh Julia ! — (this cursed vessel pitches so) — Beloved Julia, hear me still beseeching!" (Here he grew inarticulate with retching.) 88 DON JUAN. XXI. He felt that chilling heaviness of heart, Or rather stomach, which, alas ! attends, Beyond the best apothecary's art, The loss of love, the treachery of friends, Or death of those we dote on, when a part Of us dies with them as each fond hope ends : No doubt he would have been much more pathetic, But the sea acted as a strong emetic. XXII. Love 's a capricious power ; I ve known it hold Out through a fever caused by its own heat, But be much puzzled by a cough and cold, And find a quinsy very hard to treat : Against all noble maladies he 's bold, But vulgar illnesses don't like to meet, Nor that a sneeze should interrupt his sigh, Nor inflammations redden his blind eye. XXIII. But worst of all is nausea, or a pain -\ About the lower region of the bowels ; Love, who heroically breathes a vein, Shrinks from the application of hot towels, And purgatives are dangerous to his reign, Sea-sickness death : his love \r» c ppHert, llM w " lc " [ goilld .Th linVspnftsioil, ydiili'llu* hillnw.B-ii*««f j B esist jiis stom ac h, ne'er at sea before ? CANTO II. 89 XXIV. The ship, calld the most holy « Trinadada, » ' Was steering duly for the port Leghorn; For there the Spanish family Moncada Were settled long ere Juan's sire was born : They were relations, and for them he had a Letter of introduction, which the morn Of his departure had been sent him by His Spanish friends for those in Italy. XXV. His suite consisted of three servants, and A tutor, the licentiate Pedrillo, Who several languages did understand, But now lay sick and speechless on his pillow, And, rocking in his hammock, long'd for land, His headache being increased by every billow, And the waves oozing through the port-hole made; His birth a little damp, and him afraid. XXVI. T was not without some reason, for the wind Increased at night, until it blew a gale ; And though t was not much to a naval mind, Some landsmen would have lookd a little pale, For sailors are, in fact, a different kind : At sunset they began to take in sail, For the sky showd it would come on to blow, And carry away, perhaps, a mast or so. 90 DON JUAN. XXVII. At one o'clock the wind with sudden shift Threw the ship right into the trough of the sea, Which struck her aft and made an awkward rift, Started the sternpost, also shatterd the Whole of her stern frame, and ere she could lift Herself out from her present jeopardy The rudder tore away; 't Avas time to sound The pumps, and there were four feet water found. XXVIII. One gang of people instantly was put Upon the pumps, and the remainder set To get up part of the cargo, and what not, But they could not come at the leak as yet ; At last they did get at it really, but Still their salvation was an even bet; The water rush'd through in a way quite puzzling, While they thrust sheets, shirts, jackets, bales of muslin, XXIX. Into the opening ! but all such ingredients Would have been vain, and they must have gone down, Despite of all their efforts and expedients, I5ut for the pumps ; \ m glad to make them known To all the brother tars who may have need hence, For fifty tons of water were upthrown By them per hour, and they had all been undone, But for the maker, Mr Mann, of London. CANTO II. 91 XXX. As day advanced the weather seemd to abate, And then the leak they reckon'd to reduce, And keep the ship afloat, though three feet yet Kept two hand and one chain-pump still in use. The wind blew fresh again : as it grew late A squall came on, and, while some guns broke kxose, A gust — which all descriptive power transcends — Laid with one blast the ship on her beam ends. XXXI. There she lay motionless, and seemd upset: The water left the hold, and wasfTd the decks, And made a scene men do not soon forget, For they remember battles, fires, and wrecks, Or any other thing that brings regret, Or breaks their hopes, or hearts, or heads, or necks Thus drownings are much talkd of by the divers And swimmers who may chance to be survi\ ers. XXXI I. Immediately the masts were cut away, Both main and mizen; first the mizen went, The mainmast follow'd; but the ship still la\ Like a mere log, and baffled our intent. I • oremast and bowsprit were cut down, and they Eased her at last (although we never meant To part with all till every hope was blighted), And then with violence die old ship righted 92 HON JUAN. XXXIII. It may be easily supposed, while this Was going on, some people were unquiet. That passengers would find it much amiss To lose their lives as well as spoil their diet ; That even the able seaman, deeming his Days nearly oer, might be disposed to riot, As upon such occasions tars will ask For grog, and sometimes drink rum from the cask. XXXIV. There s nought, no doubt, so much the spirit calms As rum and true religion; thus it was, Some plunderd, some drank spirits, some sang psalms, The high wind made the treble, and as bass The hoarse harsh waves kept time; fright cured the qualms Of all the luckless landsmen's sea-sick maws: Strange sounds of wailing, blasphemy, devotion, Clamour d in chorus to the roaring ocean. XXXV. Perhaps more mischief had been done, but for Our Juan, who, with sense beyond his years, Got to the spirit-room, and stood before It with a pair of pistols: and their fears, As if death were more drcadhil by his door ( M fire than water, spite of oaths and tears, Kept still aloof the crew, who, ere they sunk, Thought it would be becoming to die drunk. CANTO II. 93 XXXVI. « Give us more grog, » they cried, « for it will be All one an hour hence. » Juan answerd, « no! 'T is true that death awaits both you and me, But let us die like men, not sink below Like brutes :» — and thus his dangerous post kept he, And none liked to anticipate the blow ; And even Pedrillo, his most reverend tutor, Was for some rum a disappointed suitor. XXXVII. The good old gentleman was quite aghast, And made a loud and pious lamentation, Repented all his sins and made a last Irrevocable vow of reformation ; Nothing should tempt him more (this peril past) To quit his academic occupation, In cloisters of the classic Salamanca, To follow Juan's wake like Sancho Panca. XXXVIII. But now there came a flash of hope once more ; Day broke, and the wind lull'd ; the masts were gone, The leak increased; shoals round her, but no shore, The vessel swam, yet still she held her own. They tried the pumps again; and though before Their desperate efforts seem'd all useless grown, A glimpse of sunshine set some hands to bale — The stronger pump d, the weaker thrummd a sail. 94 DON JUAN. XXXIX. Under the vessels keel the sail was past, And for the moment it had some effect, But with a leak, and not a stick of mast, Nor rag of canvass, what could they expect? But still 't is best to struggle to the last, 'T is never too late to be wholly wreck'd ; And though t is true that man can only die once, 'T is not so pleasant in the Gulf of Lyons. XL. There winds and waves had hurl'd them, and from thence, Without their will, they carried them away; For they were forced with steering to dispense, And never had, as yet, a quiet day On which they might repose, or even commence A jurymast or rudder, or could say The ship would swim an hour, which by good luck Still swam — though not exactly like a duck. XLI. The wind, in fact, perhaps was rather less, But the ship labour'd so, they scarce could hope To weather out much longer; the distress Was also great with which they had to cope, For want of water, and their solid mess Was scant enough : in vain the telescope Wrcs used — nor sail nor shore appear'd in sight, Nought but the heavy sea, and coming night. CANTO II. 95 XLII. Again the weather threaten'd — again blew A gale, and in the fore and after-hold Water appear'd; yet though the people knew All this, the most were patient, and some bold, Until the chains and leathers were worn through Of all our pumps ; — a wreck complete she rolld, At mercy of the waves, whose mercies are Like human beings 1 during civil war. XLIII. Then came the carpenter, at last, with tears In his rough eyes, and told the captain, he Could do no more ; he was a man in years, And long had voyaged through many a stormy sea, And if he wept at length, they were not fears That made his eyelids as a woman's be, But he, poor fellow, had a wife and children, Two things for dying people quite bewildering. XLIV. The ship was evidently settling now Fast by the head ; and all distinction gone, Some went to prayers again, and made a vow Of candles to their saints — but there were none To pay them with ; and some look'd o'er the bow ; Some hoisted out the boats ; and there was one That begg'd Pedrillo for an absolution, Who told him to be damn'd — in his confusion. 96 DON JUAN. XLV. Some lashd them in their hammocks, some put on Their best clothes, as if going to a fair ; Some cursed the day on which they saw the sun, And gnash'd their teeth, and, howling, tore their hair; And others went on as they had begun, Getting the boats out, being well aware That a tight boat will live in a rough sea, Unless with breakers close beneath her lee. XLVl. The worst of all was, that in their condition, Having been several days in great distress, T was difficult to get out such provision As now might render their long suffering less : Men, even when dying, dislike inanition; Their stock was damaged by the weathers stress ; Two casks of biscuit and a keg of butter Were all that could be thrown into the cutter. XLVII. But in the long-boat they contrived to stow Some pounds of bread, though injured by the wet; Water, a twenty-gallon cask or so ; Six flasks of wine ; and they contrived to gel A portion of their beef up from below, And with a piece of. pork, moreover, met, But scarce enough to serve them for a Luncheon — Then there was rum, eight gallons in ;i puncheon. CANTO II. ft XLVIII. The otlier boats, the yawl and pinnace, had Been stove in the beginning of the gale ; And the long-boats condition was but bad, As there were but two blankets for a sail, And one oar for a mast, which a young lad Threw in by good luck over tbe ship's rail ; And two boats could not hold, far less be stored, To save one half the people then on board. XLIX. 'T was twilight, for the sunless day went down Over the waste of waters ; like a veil, Which, if withdrawn, would but disclose the frown Of one who hates us, so the night was shown, And grimly darkled o'er their faces pale, And hopeless eyes, which o'er the deep alone Gazed dim and desolate ; twelve days had fear Been their familiar, and now death was here. Some trial had been making at a raft, With little hope in such a rolling sea, A sort of thing at which one would have laugh'd, If any laughter at such times could be, Unless with people who too much have quaff d, And have a kind of wild and horrid glee, Half epileptical, and half hysterical : Their preservation would have been a miracle. VOL. II. 7 DON JUAN. LI. At half-past eight o'clock, booms, hencoops, spars, And all things, for a chance, had been cast loose, That still could keep afloat the struggling tars, For yet they strove, although of no great use : There was no light in heaven but a few stars, The boats put off oercrowded with their crews ; She gave a heel, and then a lurch to port, And going down head foremost — sunk, in short. LII. Then rose from sea to sky the wild farewell, Then shriek'd the timid, and stood still the brave, Then some leapd overboard with dreadful yell, As eager to anticipate their grave ; And the sea yawnd around her like a hell, And down she suckd with her the whirling wave, Like one who grapples with his enemy, And strives to strangle him before he die. LIU. And first one universal shriek there rush d, Louder than the loud ocean, like a crash Of echoing thunder: and then all was hushd, Save the wild wind, and the remorseless dash ( >f billows : but at intervals there guslul, Accompanied with a convulsive splash, A solitary shriek, the bubbling en Of some Strong swimmer in his agony. CANTO II. 99 LIV. The boats, as stated, had got off before, And in them crowded several of the crew ; And yet their present hope was hardly more Than what it had been, for so strong it blew , There was slight chance of reaching any shore ; And then they were too many, though so few- Nine in the cutter, thirty in the boat, Were counted in them when they got afloat. LV. All the rest perishd ; near two hundred souls Had left their bodies ; and, what 's worse, alas ! When over catholics the ocean rolls, They must wait several weeks before a mass Takes off one peck of purgatorial coals, Because, till people know what's come to pass, They wont lay out their money on the dead — It costs three francs for every mass that 's said. LVI. Juan got into the long-boat, and there Contrived to help Pedrillo to a place ; It seem'd as if they had exchanged their care, For Juan wore the magisterial face Which courage gives, while poor Pedrillos pair Of eyes were crying for their owners case : Battista, though, (a name calld shortly Tita) Was lost by getting at some aqua-vita?. 7, 100 DON JUAN. lvn. Pedro, his valet, too, he tried to save, But the same cause, conducive to his loss, Left him so drunk, he jumpd into the wave As o'er the cutter's edge he tried to cross, And so he found a wine-and-watery grave : They could not rescue him, although so close, Because the sea ran higher every minute, And for the boat — the crew kept crowding in it. LVIII. A small old spaniel — which had heen Don Jose's, His fathers whom he loved, as ye may think, For on such things the memory reposes With tenderness, — stood howling on the brink, Knowing, (dogs have such intellectual noses !) No doubt, the vessel was about to sink ; And Juan caught him up, and, ere he steppd Off, threw him in, then after him he leapd. LIX. lie also stuff d his money where he could About 1 11s person, and Pedrillos too, Who let him do, in fact, whateer he would, Not knowing what himself to si\, or do, As every rising wave his dread renew d ; lint Juan, trusting the} might still gel through, And deeming there were remedies for any ill, Thus re-embark'd his tutor and his spaniel. CANTO II. 101 LX. 'T was a rough night, and blew so stiffly yet, That the sail was becalm'd between the seas, Though on the wave's high top too much to set, They dared not take it in for all the breeze ; Each sea curl'd o'er the stern, and kept them wet, And made them bale without a moments ease, So that themselves as well as hopes were dampd, And the poor little cutter quickly swamp'd. LXI. Nine souls more went in her ; the long-boat still Kept above water, with an oar for mast, Two blankets stitchd together, answering ill Instead of sail, were to the oar made fast : Though every wave rolld menacing to fill, And present peril all before surpass'd, They grieved for those who perish'd with the cutter, And also for the biscuit-casks and butter. LXII. The sun rose red and fiery, a sure sign Of the continuance of the gale : to run Before the sea, until it should grow line, Was all that for the present could be done : A few tea-spoonfuls of their rum and wine Were served out to the people, who begun To faint, and damaged bread wet through the bag>, And most of them had little clothes but rags. 102 DON JUAN. LXIII. They counted thirty, — crowded in a space Which left scarce room for motion or exertion ; They did their best to modify their case, One half sate up, though numbVl with the immersion, While t' other half were laid down in their place, At watch and watch ; thus, shivering like the tertian Ague in its cold fit, they lilld their boat, With nothing but the sky for a great-coat. LXIV. T is very certain the desire of life Prolongs it; this is obvious to physicians, When patients, neither plagued with friends nor wife, Survive through very desperate conditions, Because they still can hope, nor shines the knife Nor shears of Atropos before their visions; Despair of all recovery spoils longevity, And makes men's miseries of alarming brevity. LXV. 'T is said that persons living on annuities Are longer lived than others, God knows why, I iilcss to plague their granters, — yet so true it is, That some, I really think, do never (.lie; Of any creditors the worst a Jew it is, And thai v their mode of furnishing supply; In my young days they lent me rash that way, Which 1 found very troublesome to pay. CANTO II. 105 LXVI. C *T is thus with people in an open boat, They live upon the love of life, and bear More than can be believed, or even thought, And stand like rocks the tempest's wear and tear And hardships still has been the sailors lot, Since Noahs ark went cruising here and there ; She had a curious crew as well as cargo, Like the first old Greek privateer, the Argo. LXVII. But man is a carnivorous production, And must have meals, at least one meal a day ; He cannot live, like woodcocks, upon suction, But, like the shark and tiger, must have prey ; Although his anatomical construction Bears vegetables in a grumbling Avay, Your labouring people think beyond all question, Beef, veal, and mutton, better for digestion. LXVIII. And thus it was with this our hapless crew , For on the third day there came on a calm, And though at first their strength it might renew, And, lying on their weariness like balm, Lulfd them like turtles, sleeping on the blue Of ocean, when they woke they felt a qualm, And fell all ravenously on their provision, Instead of hoarding it with due precision. 104 DON JUAN. LXIX. The consequence was easily foreseen — They ate up all they had, and drank their wine, In spite of all remonstrances, and then On what, in fact, next day were they to dine? They hoped the wind would rise, these foolish men ! And carry them to shore; these hopes were fine, But as they had but one oar, and that brittle, It would have been more wise to save their victual. LXX. The fourth day came, but not a breath of air, And ocean slumber 1 d like an unweand child : The fifth day, and their boat lay floating there, The sea and sky were blue, and clear, and mild — With their one oar (I wish they 'd had a pair) What could they do? and hungers rage grew wild ; So Juans spaniel, spite of his entreating, Was kill'd and portion 1 d out for present eating. LXXI. On the sixth day they fed upon his hide, And Juan, who had still refused, because The creatine was his father's dog that died, Now feeling all the vulture in his jaws, With some remorse received (though first denied) As a great favour one of the lore paws, Which lie divided with Pedrillo, who Devoured it, longing for the other too. CANTO II. 105 LXXII. The seventh day, and no wind — the burning sun Blister 1 d and scorch'd, and, stagnant on the sea, They lay like carcasses ; and hope was none, Save in the breeze that came not : — savagely They glared upon each other — all was done, Water, and wine, and food, — and you might see The longings of the cannibal arise (Although they spoke not) in their wolfish eyes. LXXIII. At length one whisper 1 d his companion, who Whisper d another, and thus it went round, And then into a hoarser murmur grew, An ominous, and wild, and desperate sound, And when his comrades thought each sufferer knew, T was but his own suppress 1 d till now, he found ; And out they spoke of lots for flesh and blood, And who should die to be his fellow's food. LXXIV. But ere they came to this, they that day shared Some leathern caps, and what remaind of shoes; And then they lookd around them and despair'd, And none to be the sacrifice would choose ; At length the lots were torn up, and prepared, But of materials that much shock the muse — Having no paper, for the want of better, They took, by force, from Juan, Julias letter. 10fi DOS JUAN. LXXV. The lots were made, and marked, and mix'd, and handed In silent horror, and their distribution Liill'd even the savage hunger which demanded, Like the promethean vulture, this pollution : None in particular had sought or plann'd it, T was nature gnaw'd them to this resolution, By which none were permitted to be neuter — And the lot fell on Juan's luckless tutor. LXXVI. He but requested to be bled to death ; The surgeon had his instruments, and bled Pedrillo, and so gently ebb'd his breath, You hardly could perceive when he was dead. He died as born, a catholic in faith, Like most in the belief in which they're bred, And first a little crucifix he kiss'd, And then held out his jugular and wrist. I XXVII. The surgeon, as there was no other fee, Had his first choice of morsels for his pains, But, being thirstiest at the moment, he Preferr'd a draught from the fast flowing veins : Part was divided, pari thrown in the sea, Ami mil things as die entrails and die brains Regaled tu<> sharks who followed o'er the billow — The sailors ate the resl of poor Pedrillo. r CANTO 11. 107 LXXVIII. The sailors ate him, all save three or four, Who were not quite so foud of animal fofkl ; To these was added Juan, who, before Refusing his own spaniel, hardly could Feel now his appetite increased mu/:n more ; T was not to be expected that he should, Even in extremity of their d'?aster, Dine with them ^ his pastor and his master. LXXIX. 'T was better that he did not ; for, in fact, The consequence was awful in the extreme : For they, who were most ravenous in the act, Went raging mad — Lord ! how they did blaspheme ! And foam and roll, with strange convulsions rack'd, Drinking salt water like a mountain-stream, Tearing, and grinning, howling, screeching, swearing, And, with hyaena laughter, died despairing. LXXX. Their numbers Avere much thinnd by this infliction, And all the rest were thin enough, Heaven knows ; And some of them had lost their recollection, Happier than they who still perceived their woes ; But others ponder'd on a new dissection, As if not warnd sufficiently by those Who had already perishd, suffering madly, For having used their appetites so sadly. 108 DON JUAN. LXXXI. And next they thought upon the masters mate, As fattest •■ but he saved himself, because, Besides being mucli averse from such a fate, There were some other reasons ; the first was, He had been rather indisposed of late, And that which chiefly proved his saving clause, Was a small present made to him at Cadiz, By general subscription of the ladies. LXXXII. Of poor Pedrillo something still remain d, But was used sparingly, some were afraid, And others still their appetites constrained, Or but at times a little supper made ; All, except Juan, who throughout abstained, Chewing a piece of bamboo, and some lead : At length they caught two boobies and a noddy, And then they left off eating the dead body. LXXXIII. And if Pedrillo's fate should shocking be, Remember Ugolino condescends To cat the head of his arch-enemy The moment after he politely ends His tale : if foes be food in hell, at sea 'T is surely fair to dine upon our friends, When shipwreck s short allowance grows too scanty, Without being much more horrible than Dante CANTO II. 109 LXXXIV. And the same night there fell a shower of rain, For which their mouths gaped, like the cracks of earth, When dried to summer dust ; till taught by pain, Men really know not what good water 's worth : If you had been in Turkey or in Spain, Or with a famishd boats-crew had your birth, Or in the desert heard the camels bell, You d wish yourself where truth is — in a well . LXXXV. It pour d down torrents, but they were no richer, Until they found a ragged piece of sheet, Which served them as a sort of spongy pitcher, And when they deemed its moisture was complete, They wrung it out, and though a thirsty ditcher Might not have thought the scanty draught so sweet As a full pot of porter, to their thinking They ne'er till now had known the joys of drinking. LXXXVI. And their baked lips, with many a bloody crack, Suckd in the moisture, which like nectar stream'd; Their throats were ovens, their swoln tongues were black As the rich man's in hell, who vainly scream'd, To beg the beggar, who could not rain back A drop of dew, when every drop had seemd To taste of heaven — If this be true, indeed, Some christians have a comfortable creed. 110 DON JUAN. LXXXVII. There were two fathers in this ghastly crew, And with them their two sons, of whom the one Was more robust and hardy to the view, But he died early ; and when he was gone, His nearest messmate told his sire, who threw One glance on him, and said, « Heaven's will he done, I can do nothing, » and he saw him thrown Into die deep, without a tear or groan. LXXXYIII. The other father had a weaklier child, Of a soft cheek, and aspect delicate ; But the hoy bore up long, and with a mild And patient spirit held aloof his fate ; Little he said, and now and then he smiled, As if to win a part from off the weight He saw increasing on his fathers heart, With the deep deadly thought, that they must part. LXXXIX. And o'er him bent his sire, and never raised His eyes from off his face, but wiped the foam From his pale lips, and ever on him gazed, And when the wishd for shower at Length was come, And the boy's eyes, which the dull film half glazed, Brighten'd, and for a moment seem'd to roam, I [e squeezed from out a rag some drops of rain Into his dying child's mouth — but in vain. CANTO II. 111 XC. The boy expired — the father held the clay, And lookM upon it long, and when at last Death left no doubt, and the dead burthen lay Stiff on his heart, and pulse and hope were past, He watch 1 d it wistfully, until away T was borne by the rude wave wherein t was cast; Then he himself sunk down all dumb and shivering, And gave no sign of life, save his limbs quivering. XCI. Now overhead a rainbow, bursting through The scattering clouds, shone — spanning the dark sea, Resting its bright base on the quivering blue; And all within its arch appeared to be Clearer than that without, and its wide hue Wax'd broad and waving, like a banner free, Then changed like to a bow that 's bent, and then Forsook the dim eyes of these shipwreckd men. XCH. It changed of course ; a heavenly chameleon, ' The airy child of vapour and the sun, Brought forth in purple, cradled in vermilion, Baptized in molten gold, and swathed in dun, Glittering like crescents o'er a Turk's pavilion, And blending every colour into one, Just like a black eye in a recent scuffle, — A (For sometimes we must box without the muffle.) 112 DON JUAN. XCI1I. Our shipwreck'd seamen thought it a good omen — It is as well to think so now and then ; T was an old custom of the Greek and Roman, And may become of great advantage, when Folks are discouraged ; and most surely no men Had greater need to nerve themselves again Than these ; and so this rainbow look'd like hope — Quite a celestial kaleidoscope. XCIV. About this time, a beautiful white bird, Webfooted, not unlike a dove in size And plumage, (probably it might have err'd Upon its course,) passd oft before their eyes, And tried to perch, although it saw and heard The men within the boat, and in this guise It came and went, and flutter 1 d round them, till Night fell : — this seemd a better omen still. XCV. But in this case I also must remark, 'T was well this bird of promise did not perch, Because the tackle of our shatter d bark Was not so safe for roosting as a church ; And hud it been the dove from Noah's ark, Returning there from her successful search, Which in their \\;i\ thatmoment chanced to fall, They would Ijave eal her, olive branch and all. CANTO II. H3 XCVL With twilight it again came on to blow, But not with violence ; the stars shone out, The boat made way ; yet now they were so low r , They knew not where nor what they were about, Some fancied they saw land, and some said « A'o !» The frequent fog-banks gave them cause to doubt — Some swore that they heard breakers, others guns, And all mistook about the latter once. xcvn. As morning broke the light wind died away, When he who had the watch, sung out and swore If 't was not land that rose with the suns ray, lie wishd that land he never might see more ; And the rest rubb'd their eyes, and saw a bav, Or thought they saw, and shaped their course for shore, For shore it was, and gradually grew Distinct, and high, and palpable to view. XCVIII. And then of these some part burst into tears, And others, looking with a stupid stare, Could not yet separate their hopes from fears. And seem'd as if they had no further care ; While afewpray'd — (the first time for some years) — And at the bottom of the boat three were Asleep; they shook them by the baud and head. And tried to awaken them, but found them dead. vol. ii. 8 114 DON JUAN. XCIX. The tlav before, fast sleeping on the water, They found a turtle of the hawks-bill kind, And by good fortune, gliding softly, caught her, Which yielded a days life, and to their mind Proved even still a more nutritious matter, Because it left encouragement behind : They thought, that in such perils, more than chance Had senl them tins for their deliverance. The land appeard, a high and rocky coast, And higher grew the mountains as they drew, Set by a current, towards it : they were lost In various conjectures, for none knew To what part of the earth they had been toss d, So changeable had been the winds that blew : Some thought it was Mount .Etna, some the highlands Of Candia, Cyprus, Rhodes, or other islands. CI. Meantime, the current, with a rising gale, Still set tliem onwards to the welcome short 1 , Like Charon's hark of spectres, dull and pale : Their living freight was now reduced to four, — And three dead, whom their strength could not avail To heave into the deep with those before, Though the two sharks still followed them, and dash'd The spray into their faces as they splash'd. CANTO M. 115 CII. Famine, despair, cold, thirst, and heat, had done Their work on them by turns, and thinn'd them to Such things, a mother had not known her son Amidst the skeletons of that {jaunt crew ; By night chill'd, by day scorch'd, thus one by one They perish'd, until wither'd to these few, But chiefly by a species of self-slaughter, In washing down Pedrillo with salt-water. giii. As they drew nigh the land, which now was seen, Unequal in its aspect here and there, They felt the freshness of its growing green, That waved in forest tops and smooth' d the air, And fell upon their glazed eyes like a screen From glistening waves, and skies so hot and bare- Lovely seem'd any object that should sweep Away the vast, salt, dread, eternal deep. CIV. The shore Jook'd wild, without a trace of man, And girt by formidable waves ; but they Were mad for laud, and thus their course they ran, Though right a-head the roaring breakers lay: A reef between them al.-,o now began To show its boiling surf and bounding spray, But finding no place for their landing better, They ran the boat for shore, and overset her. 8. 1)6 DON JUAIS. GV. But in his native stream, the Guatlal quiver, Juan to lave his youthful limbs was wont, And having lcarnd to swim in that sweet river, Had often turn'd the art to some account ; A better swimmer you could scarce see ever, He could, perhaps, have passd the Hellespont, As once (a feat on which ourselves we prided Leander, Mr Ekenhead, and I did. CVI. So here, though faint, emaciated, and stark, He buoy'd his boyish limbs, and strove to ply With the quick wave, and gain, ere it was dark, The beach, which lay before him, high and dry ; The greatest danger here was from a shark, That carried off his neighbour by the thigh ; As for the other two, they could not swim, So nobody arrived on shore but him. CV11. Nor yet had he arrived, but for the oar, Which, providentially for him, was wash'd Just as his feeble aims could strike no more, And the bard wave «> Vrwhelmd him as 't was dash'd Within his grasp; he clung to it, and sore The waters beat while he thereto was lash'd; At last, with swimming, wading, scrambling, he llolTd on the beach, half senseless, from the sea. CANTO If. 117 CVIIT. There, breathless, with his digging nails lie clung Fast to the sand, lest the returning wave, From whose reluctant roar his life he wrung, Should suck him back to her insatiate grave : And there he lay, full length, where he was flung, Before the entrance of a cliff-worn cave, With just enough of life to feel its pain, And deemd that it was saved, perhaps, in vain. GIX. With slow and staggering effort he arose, But sunk again upon his bleeding knee And quivering hand ; and then he lookVl for those Who long had been his mates upon the sea, But none of them appeard to share his woes, Save one, a corpse from out the famishd three, Who died two days before, and now had found An unknown barren beach for burial ground. CX. And as he gazed his dizzy brain spun fast, And down he sunk; and as he sunk the sand Swam round and round, and all his senses passd : He fell upon his side, and his stretcli d hand Droop'd dripping <>n the oar, (their jury mast) And, like a wither'd lily, on the land His slender frame and pallid aspeel la\ , As fair a thing as e'er was fonnd ol'elav 118 DON JUAN. CXI. How long in his damp trance young Juan lay lie knew not, for the earth was gone for him, And Time had nothing more of night nor day For his congealing blood, and senses dim; And how this heavy faintness passVl away He knew not, till each painful pulse and limb, And tingling vein, seeniVl throbbing back to life, For death, though vanquished, still retired with strife. CXIL His eyes he open'd, shut, again unclosed, For all was doubt and dizziness; inethought He still was in the boat, and had but dozed, And felt again with his despair o'erwrought, And wishd it death in which he had reposed. And then once more his feelings back were brought, And slowly by his swimming eves was seen A lovely female face of seventeen. cxni. 'T was bending close o'er his, and the small mouth Seem d almost prying into his for breath ; And, chafing him, the soli warm hand of youth Recall'd his answering spirits back from death ; And, bathing his chill temples, tried to soothe Each pulse to animation, till beneath Its gentle touch and trembling care, a sigh To these kind efforts made a low reply. CANTO II. Ill) CXIV. Then was the cordial pour d, and mantle flung Around his scarce-clad limbs; and the fair arm Raised higher the faint head which o'er it hung; And her transparent cheek, all pure and warm, Pillow' d his death-like forehead; then she wrung His dewy curls, long drcnch'd by every storm; And watch'd with eagerness each throb that drew A sigh from his heaved bosom — and Iter's too. r.xv. And lifting him with care into the cave, The gentle girl, and her attendant, — one Young, yet her elder, and of brow less grave, And more robust of figure, — then begun To kindle fire, and as the new flames gave Light to the rocks that roof'd them, which the sun Had never seen, the maid, or whatsoe'er She was, appear d distinct, and tall, and fair. (IX VI. Her brow was overhung with coins of gold, That sparkled o'er the auburn oilier hair, Her clustering hair, whose Longer locks wereroll'd In braids behind, and though her stature were Even of the highest for a female mould, They nearly reach'd her heel ; and in her air There was a something which bespoke command. As one who was a lady in the land. 20 DON JUAN. GXVII. Her hair, I said, was auburn; but her eyes Were black as death, their lashes the same hue, Of downcast length, in whose silk shadow lies Deepest attraction, for when to the view Forth from its raven fringe the full glance flics, Ne'er with such force the swiftest arrow flew j T is as the snake late coild, who pours his length, And hurls at once his venom and his strength. CXVIII. Her brow was white and low, her cheeks pure dye lake twilight rosy still with the set sun : Short upper lip — sweet lips ! that make us sigh Ever to have seen such; for she was one Fit for the model of a statuary. — A race of mere impostors, when all s done — 1 've seen much liner women, ripe and real, Than all the nonsense of their stone ideal. CXIX. I 11 tell you why I say so, for 't is just ( )ne should not rail without a decent cause : There was an Irish lady, to whose hui I I iic er saw justice done, and yet she was A frequenl model, and if e'er she musl Yield to stern time and nature s wrinkling laws, They will lro\ a face which mortal thought >'c ; •;• compass'd, uor less mortal chisel wrought. CANTO If. 121 And such was she, the lady of the cave: Her dress was very different from the Spanish, Simpler, and yet of colours not so grave ; For, as you know, the Spanish women banish Bright hues when out of doors, and yet, while wave Around them (what I hope will never vanish) The basqtrina and the mantilla, they Seem at the same time mystical and gay. (XXI. But with our damsel this was not the case: Her dress was many-colour'd, finely spun; Her locks cuiTd negligently round her face, But through them gold and gems profusely shone; Her girdle sparkled, and the richest lace Flowed in her veil, and many a precious stone Flash d on her little hand; but, what was shocking, Her small snow feet had slippers, but no stocking. CXXJI. The other females dress was not unlike, But of inferior materials; she Had not so many ornaments to strike, Her hair had silver only, bound to be Her dowry; and her veil, in form alike, Was coarser; and her air, though firm, less lice; Her hair was thicker, but less long ; her eyes As hlack, but quicker, and of smaller size. 122 DON JUAN. CXXIII. And these two tended him, and cheerd him both, With food and raiment, and those soft attentions, Which are (as I must own) of female growth, And have ten thousand delicate inventions : They made a most superior mess of broth, A thing which poesy but seldom mentions, But the best dish that e'er was cookd since Homers Achilles order d dinner for new comers. CXXIV. I 11 fell you who they were, this female pair, Lest they should seem princesses in disguise ; Besides, I_hate_all mystery, and that air ( )( clap-trap, which your recent poets prize ; And so, in short, the girls they really were They shall appear before your curious eyes, Mistress and maid; the first was only daughter Of an old man, who lived upon the water. exxv. A fisherman he had been in his youth, And still a sort of fisherman was he; Bui oilier speculations were, in sooth, Added to his connexion with the sea, Perhaps nut so respectable, in truth : A little smuggling, and some piracy, Left him, at last, the sole of man\ masters Of an ill-gotten million of piastres. CANTO II. 125 CXXVI. A fisher, therefore, was he — though of men, Like Peter the apostle, — and he fish'd For wandering merchant vessels, now and then, And sometimes caught as many as he wish'd ; The cargoes he confiscated, and gain He sought in the slave market too, and dish' d Full many a morsel for that Turkish trade, By which, no doubt, a good deal may he made. CXXVII. He was a Greek, and on his isle had built, (One of the wild and smaller Cyclades) A very handsome house from out his guilt, And there he lived exceedingly at ease ; Heaven knows what cash he got, or blood he spilt, A sad old fellow was he, if you please, But this I know, it was a spacious building* Full of barbaric carving, paint, and gilding. CXXVIII. He had an only daughter, calld Haidee, The greatest heiress of the Eastern Isles ; Besides, so very beautiful was she, Her dowry was as nothing to her smiles : Still in her teens, and like a lovely tree She grew to womanhood, and between w hiles Rejected several suitors, just to learn How to accept a better in his turn. 124 DON JUAN. (XXIX. And walking out upon the beach, below The cliff, towards sunset, on that day she found, Insensible, — not dead, but nearly so, — Don Juan, almost famishYl, and half drown'd; But being naked, she was shocked you know, Yet deemVl herself in common pity bound, As far as in her lay, « to take him in, A stranger," dying with so white a skin. (XXX. But faking him into her father's house ^Yas not exactly the best way to save, But like conveying to the cat the mouse, ( )r people in a trance into their grave ; Because the good old man had so much « vovs,» S tinlike the honest Arab thieves so brave, / Me would have hospitably cured the stranger, I And sold him instantly when out of danger. CXXXI. And, therefore, with her maid she thought it best (A virgin alwavs on her maid relies) To place him in I he cave lor presenl rest: And w hen, at last, he opend his black c\ es, Their charity increased about their guest ; And their compassion grew to such a size, li open d half the turnpike-gates to heaven — (Si Paul >a\ s i is the toll \\ Inch musl be given.) CANTO J I. 125 CXXXH. They made a fire, but such a fire as they Fpon the moment could contrive, with such Materials as were cast up round the bay, Some broken planks, and oars, that to the touch Were nearly tinder, since so long they lay, A mast was almost crumbled to a crutch ; But, by Gods grace, here wrecks were in such plenty, That there was fuel to have furnish 1 d twenty. CXXXIII. He had a bed of furs, and a pelisse, For Haidee stripp'd her sables off to make His couch ; and, that he might be more at ease, And warm, in case by chance he should awake, They also gave a petticoat a-piece, She and her maid, and promised by day-break To pay him a fresh visit, with a dish For breakfast, of eggs, coffee, bread, and fish. CXXXIV. And thus they left him to his lone repose ; Juan slept like a top, or like the dead, Who sleep at last, perhaps, (God only knows) Just for the present ; and in his lulfd head Not even a vision of his former woes Throbhd in accursed dreams, which sometimes spread Unwelcome visions of our former years, Till the eye, cheated, opens thick with tears. I2G DON JUAN. CXXXV. Young Juan slept all dreamless : — but the maid, Who smoothd his pillow, as she left the den, Look d baek upon him, and a moment staid, And turn'd, believing that he calld again : He slumberd ; yet she thought, at least she said (The heart will slip even as the tongue and pen), He had pronounced her name — but she forgot That at this moment Juan knew it not. CXXXVI. And pensive to her fathers house she went, Enjoining silence strict to Zoe, who Better than her knew what, in fact, she meant, She being wiser by a year or two : A year or two 's an age when rightly spent, And Zoe spent hers, as most women do, In gaining all that useful sor t of know ledge Which is acquired in natures good old college. GXXXVII. The morn broke, and found Juan slumbering still Fast in his cave, and nothing clash'd upon His rest; the rushing of the neighbouring rill, And the young beams of tin? excluded sun Troubled him not, and he might sleep his fill ; And need he bad of slumber yet, for none Had suffer 'd more, — his hardships were comparative To those related in m\ grand-dad's Narrative. CANTO II. 127 CXXXVIII. Not so Haidee : she sadly toss'd and tumbled. And started from her sleep, — and turning o'er, Dream'd of a thousand wrecks, o'er which she stumbled, And handsome corses strew'd upon the shore ; And woke her maid so early that she grumbled, And calfd her father's old slaves up, who swore In several oaths, Armenian, Turk, and Greek, They knew not what to think of such a freak. CXXXIX. But up she got, and up she made them get, With some pretence about the sun that makes Sweet skies, just wken he rises, or is set; And 't isj no doubt, a sight to see, when breaks Bright Phoebus, while the mountains still are wet With mist, and every bird with him awakes, And night is flung off like a mourning suit Worn for a husband, or some other brute. CXL. I say, the sun is a most glorious sight, I Ve seen him rise full oft, — indeed, of late, I have sat up on purpose all the night, Which hastens, as physicians say, one's fate; And so all ye, who would be in the right In health and purse, begin your day to dale From day-break, and when coffin'd at fourscore, Engrave upon the plate, you rose at four. 128 DON JUAN. GXLI. And Haidee met the morning face to face; Her own was freshest, though a feverish flush Had dyed it with the headlong blood, whose race From heart to cheek is curb'd into a blush ; Like to a torrent, which a mountain's base, That overpowers some Alpine rivers rush, Cheeks to a lake, whose waves in circles spread ; Or the Red Sea — but the sea is not red. GXLII. And down the cliff the island virgin came, And near the cave her quick light footsteps drew , While the sun smiled on her with his first flame, And young Aurora kissd her lips with dew, Taking her for a sister ; just the same Mistake you would have made on seeing the two, Although the mortal, quite as fresh and fair, Had all the advantage too of not being air. cxun. And when into the cavern Haidee stepp'd All timidly, yet rapidly, she saw That like an infant Juan sweetly slept ; And then she stopp'd, and stood as if in awe (For sleep is awful), and on tip-toe crept; And wrapp'd him closer, lest the air, too ra\* , Should reach his blood, then o'er him, still as death, Dent with hush'd lips, thai drank his scarce-drawn breath CANTO II. |29 CXLIV. And thus, like to an angel o'er the dying Who die in righteousness, she lean'd; and there All tranquilly the shipwrecked boy was lying, As o'er him lay the calm and stirless air : But Zoe the meantime some eggs was frying, Since, after all, no doubt the youthful pair Must breakfast, and betimes — lest they should ask it, She drew out her provision from the basket. ( XLV. She knew that the best feelings must have victual, And that a shipwreckd youth would hungry be; Besides, being less in love, she yawn'd a little, And felt her veins chill'd by the neighbouring sea ; And so she cook'd their breakfast to a tittle ; J cant say that she gave them any tea, But there were eggs, fruit, coffee, bread, fish, honey, With Scio wine, — and all for love — not money. CXLVI. And Zoe, when the eggs were ready, and The coffee made, would fain have wakend Juan ; ButHaidee stopp'd her with her quick small hand, And, without word, a sign her finger drew on Her lip, which Zoe needs must understand ; And, the first breakfast spoil'd, prepared a new one, Because her mistress would not let her break That sleep which seem'd as it would ne'er awake. VOL. II. 9 130 DON JUAN. CXLVII. For still he lay, and on his thin-worn cheek A purple hectic play'd, like dying day On the snow tops of distant hills; the streak Of sufferance yet upon his forehead lay, Where the blue veins look'd shadowy, shrunk, and weak ; And his black curls were dewy with the spray, Which weighed upon them yet, all damp and salt, Mix'd with the stony vapours of the vault. CXLVIII. And she bent o'er him, and he lay beneath, Hushd as the babe upon its mothers breast, Droopd as the willow when no winds can breathe, Lulld like the depth of ocean when at rest, Fair as the crowning rose of the whole wreath, Soft as the callow cygnet in its nest; In short, he was a very pretty fellow, Although his woes had turnd him rather yellow. CXLIX. He woke and gazed, and would have slept again, But the fair face which met his eyes forbade Those eyes to close, though weariness and pain Had further sleep a further pleasure made ; For woman's face was never fonn'd in vain For Juan, so that even when he pray d He turnd from grizzly saints, and martyrs hairy, To the sweet portrait of the Virgin Maw CANTO II. 151 CL. And thus upon his elhow he arose, And lookd upon the lady, in whose cheek The pale contended with the purple rose, As with an effort she began to speak : Her eyes were eloquent, — her words would pose,- Although she told him in good modern Greek, With an Ionian accent, low and sweet, That he was faint, and must not talk, but eat. GLI. Now Juan could not understand a word, Being no Grecian; but he had an ear, And her voice was the warble of a bird, So soft, so sweet, so delicately clear, That finer, simpler music ne'er was heard ; The sort of sound we echo with a tear, Without knowing why, — an overpowering tone, Whence melody descends as from a throne. CLII. And Juan gazed as one who is awoke By a distant organ, doubting if he be Not yet a dreamer, till the spell is broke By the watchman, or some such reality, Or by one s early valet's cursed knock ; \t lpast it ic :i hp ; ivy cnim f | fn mf. Who l ike a morning slumber — for the nigh t Shows stars and women in a better liflht. !). 152 DON JUAN. GLIII. And Juan, too, was helpd out from his dream, Or sleep, or whatsoe'er it was, by feeling A most prodigious appetite : the steam Of Zoe s cookery no doubt was stealing Upon his senses, and the kindling beam Of the new fire, which Zoe kept up, kneeling, To stir her viands, made him quite awake, And long for food, but chiefly a beef-steak. CLIV. But beef is rare within these oxless isles ; Goats flesh there is, no doubt, and kid, and mutton, And when a holiday upon them smiles, A joint upon their barbarous spits they put on : But this occurs but seldom, between whiles, For some of these are rocks with scarce a hut on, Others are fair and fertile, among which, This, though not large, was one of the most rich. CLV. I say that beef is rare, and cant help thinking That the old fable of the Minotaur — From which our modern morals, rightly shrinking, Condemn the royal lady's taste who wore A cow's shape for a mask — was only (sinking The allegory) a mere type, no more. That Pasiphae promoted breeding cattle, To make the Cretans bloodier in bailie. CANTO II. 153 CLVI. F or we all know, that English people ar e Fed upon beef — I wont say much of beer, Because t is liquor only, and being far From this my subject, has no business here ; W e know. too T they arc very fond of war , A pleasure — like all pleasures — r,ather dear ; So were the Cretan s — from which I inf er, That beef and battle s both wer e owing tn heji CLVII. But to resume. — The languid Juan raised His head upon his elbow — and he saw A sight on which he had not lately gazed, As all his latter meals had been quite raw, Three or four things, for which the Lord he praised, And feeling still the famishd vulture gnaw, He fell upon whate'er was offer'd, like A priest, a shark, an alderman, or pike. CLVIII. He ate, and he was well supplied : and she Who watch 1 d him like a mother, would have fed Him past all bounds, because she smiled to see Such appetite in one she had deeind dead ; But Zoe, being older than Haidee, Knew (by tradition, for she ne'er had read) That famishd people must be sloAvly nursed, And fed by spoonfuls, else they alwavs burst. 134 DON JIUlV CLIX. And so she took the liberty to state, Rather by deeds than words, because the case Was urgent, that the gentleman, whose fate Had made her mistress quit her bed to trace The sea-shore at this hour, must leave his plate, Unless he wish'd to die upon the place — She snatch 1 d it, and refused another morsel, Saying, he had gorged enough to make a horse ill. CLX. Next they — he being naked, save a tatterd Pair of scarce decent trowsers — went to work, And in the fire his recent rags they scatterYl, And dressd him, for the present, like a Turk, Or Greek — that is, although it not much matterd, Omitting turban, slippers, pistols, dirk — They furnish 1 d him entire, except some stitches, With a clean shirt, and very spacious breeches. CLXJ. And then fail- Haidee tried her tongue at speaking, But not a word could Juan comprehend, Although he listen d so, that the young Greek; in I [er earnestness would ne'er have made an end ; And, as he interrupted not, went ekiu;; Her speech out to her prulege and friend, Till pausing at the last her breath to take, She saw he did not understand Romaic. CANTO II. 135 CLXII. And then she had recourse to nods and signs, And smiles, and sparkles of the speaking eye, And read (the only book she could) the lines Of his fair face, and found, by sympathy, The answer eloquent, where the soul shines, And darts in one quick glance a long reply ; And thus in every look she saw express 1 d A world of words, and things at which she guess'd. CLXIII. And now, by dint of fingers and of eyes, And words repeated after her, he took A lesson in her tongue ; but by surmise, No doubt, less of her language than her look : As he who studies fervently the skies Turns oftener to the stars than to his book, Thus Juan learnd his alpha beta better From Haidees glance than any graven letter. CLXIV. T is pleasing to be school'd in a strange tongue By female lips and eyes — that is, I mean, When both the teacher and the taught are young, As was the case, at least, where I ho vp bppn ; ~ They smile so when one \s right, and when one 's wrong They smile still more, and then there intervene Pressure of hands, perhaps even a chaste kiss; I learnd the little that I know by this : 136 DON JUAN. CLXV. That is, some words of Spanish, Turk, and Greek, Italian not at all, having no teachers ; Much English I cannot pretend to speak, Learning that language chiefly from its preachers, Barrow, South, Tillotson, whom every week I study, also Blair, the highest reachers Of eloquence in piety and prose — I hate your poets, so read none of those. CLXVI. As for the ladies, I have nought to say, A wanderer from the British world of fashion, Where I, like other « dogs, have had my day,» Like other men too may have had my passion — And that, like other things, has passd away : And all her fools whom I could lay the lash on, Foes, friends, men, women, now are nought to me But dreams of what has l>een, no more to be. CLXVII. Return we to Don Juan. He begun To hear new words, and to repeat them ; but Some feelings, universal as the sun, Were such as could not in his breast be shut, More than within the bosom of a nun : He was in love, — as you would be, no doubt, With a young benefactress — so was she, Just in the way we very often sec. CANTO II. 137 GLXV1II. And every day by daybreak — rather early For Juan, who was somewhat fond of rest — She came into the cave, but it was merely To see her bird reposing in his nest ; And she would softly stir his locks so curly, Without disturbing her yet slumbering guest, Breathing all gently o'er his cheek and mouth, As o'er a bed of roses the sweet south. CLXIX. And every morn his colour freshlier came, And every day help'd on his convalescence ; T was well, because health in the human frame Is pleasant, besides being true loves essence ; For health and idleness to passion's flame Are oil and gunpowder ; and some good lessons Are also learn'd from Ceres and from Bacchus, Without whom Venus will not long attack us. CLXX. While Venus fills the heart (without heart, really Love, though good always, is not quite so good) Ceres presents a plate of vermicelli, — For love must be sustain 'd like flesh and blood, While Bacchus pours out wine, or hands a jelly ; Eggs, oysters, too, are amatory food, But who is their purveyor from above Heaven knows — it may be Neptune, Pan, or Jove 138 DON JUAN. CLXXI. When Juan woke he found some good things ready, A bath, a breakfast, and the finest eyes That ever made a youthful heart less steady, Besides her maids, as pretty for their size ; But I have spoken of all this already — And repetition s tiresome and unwise, — Well — Juan, after bathing in the sea, Came always back to coffee and Haidee. CLXX1I. Both were so young, and one so innocent, That bathing passd for nothing ; Juan seem'd To her, as t were the kind of being sent, Of whom these two years she had nightly dream d, A something to be loved — a creature meant To be her happiness — and whom she deem'd To render happy : all who joy would win Must share it, — happiness was born a twin. CLXX1II. It was such pleasure to behold him, such Enlargement of existence to partake Nature with him, to thrill beneath his touch. To watch him slumbering, and to see him wake, To live with him for ever were too much ; But then the thought of parting made her quake He was her own — her ocean treasure, — casl Like a rich wreck — her first love and her last. CANTO II. 159 CLXXIV. And thus a moon roll'd on, and fair Haidee Paid daily visits to her hoy, and took Such plentiful precautions, that still he Remain'd unknown within his craggy nook ; At last her father's prows put out to sea, . For certain merchantmen upon the look, Not as of yore, to carry off an Io, But three Ragusan vessels bound for Scio. GLXXV. Then came her freedom — for she had no mother, — So that, her father being at sea, she was Free as a married woman, or such other Female, as where she likes may freelv pass, Without even the encumbrance of a brother, The freest she that ever gazed on glass : I speak of christian lands in this comparison, Where wives, at least, are seldom kept in garrison. CLXXVI. Now she prolongd her visits and her talk, (For they must talk,) and he had learnt to say, So much, as to propose to take a walk, — For little had he wander d since the day On which, like a young flower snapp'd from the stalk. Drooping and dewy on the beach he lay, — And thus they walk'd out in the afternoon, And saw the sun set opposite the moon. HO DON JUAN. CLXXVH. It was a wild and breaker-beaten coast, With cliffs above, and a broad sandy shore, Guarded by shoals and rocks as by a host, With here and there a creek, whose aspect wore A better welcome to the tempest-tossd ; And rarely ceased the haughty billow's roar, Save on the dead long summer days, which make The outstretchd ocean glitter like a lake. CLXXVIII. And the small ripple spilt upon the beach Scarcely oerpassd the cream of your champaign, When o'er the brim the sparkling bumpers reach, That spring-dew of the spirit ! the heai t s rain ! lew things surpass old wine; and they may preach Who please, — the more because the\ preach in vain; ^^y Let us have wine and women, mirth and laughter, ^^•Sermons and soda-water die day alter. CLXX1X. Man, being' reasonable, must get drunk, The best of life is but intoxication : ( rlory, the grape, love, gold, in these are sunk The hopes of all men, and of every nation; Without their sap, how branchless were the trunk ( )l life 9 strange tree, so fruitful on occasion: But to return, — Gel ver^ drunk; and when You wake with headache, you shall see what then CANTO II. )f t \ CLXXX. Ring for your valet — bid him quickly bring Some hock and soda-water, then you '11 know A pleasure worthy Xerxes the great king ; For not the blessd sherbet sublimed with siioav, Nor the first sparkle of the desert spring, Nor burgundy in all its sunset glow, After long travel, ennui, love, or slaughter, Vie with that draught of hock and soda-water. CLXXXI. The coast — I think it was the coast that I Was just describing — Yes, it ivas the coast — Lay at this period quiet as the sky, The sands un tumbled, the blue waves untost, And all was stillness, save the sea-bird's cry, And dolphins leap, and little billow crost By some low rock or shelve, that made it fret Against the boundary it scarcely wet. CLXXXII. And forth they wandered, her sire being gone, As I have said, upon an expedition ; And mother, brother, guardian, she had none, Save Zoe, who, although with due precision She waited on her lady with the sun, Thought daily service was her only mission, Bringing warm water, wreathing her long tresses, And asking now and then for cast-off dresses 112 DON JUAN. GLXXXIII. It was the cooling hour, just when the rounded Red sun sinks down behind the azure hill, Which then seems as if the whole earth it bounded, Circling all nature, hushd, and dim, and still, With the far mountain-crescent half surrounded On one side, and the deep sea calm and chill Upon the other, and the rosy sky, With one star sparkling through it like an eye. CLXXXIV. And thus they wander d forth, and hand in hand, Over the shining pebbles and the shells, (Hided along the smooth and hardend sand, And in the worn and wild receptacles Work'd by the storms, yet workd as it were plann'd, In hollow halls, with sparry roofs and cells, They turnd to rest; and, each claspd by an arm, Yielded to the deep twilights purple charm. CLXXXV. They look d up to the sky, whose floating glow Spread like a rosy ocean, vast and bright; They gazed upon the glittering sea below, Whence the broad moon rose circling into sight; They heard the waves splash, and the wind so low, And saw each others dark eyes darting light Into each other — and, beholding this, Their lips drew near, and ('lung into a kiss. CANTO II. 143 CLXXXVI. A long, long kiss, a kiss of youth, and love, And beauty, all concentrating like rays Into one focus, kindled from above; Such kisses as belong to early days, Where heart, and soul, and sense in concert move, And the bloods lava, and the pulse a blaze, Each kiss a heart-quake, — for a -kiss's strength, I think, it must be reckon'd by its length. CLXXXVII. By length I mean duration ; theirs endured Heaven knows how long, no doubt they never reckon'd ; And if they had, they could not have secured The sum of their sensations to a second : They had not spoken ; but they felt allured, As if their souls and lips each other beckond, Which, being join d, like swarming bees they clung, Their hearts the flowers from whence the honey sprung. CLXXXVIII. They were alone, but not alone as they Who shut in chambers think it loneliness ; The silent ocean, and the starlight bay, The twilight glow, which momently grew less ; The voiceless sands, and dropping caves, that lay Around them, made them to each other press, As if there were no life beneath the sky Save theirs, and that their life could never die. \\\ DON JUAN. GLXXXIX. They tear d no eyes nor ears on that lone beach, They felt no terrors from the night, they were All in all to each other; though their speech Was broken words, they thought a language there ,- / And all the burning tongues the passions teach Found in one sigh the best interpreter Of natures oracle — first love, — that all Which Eve has left her daughters since her fall. CXC. Haidee spoke not of scruples, askdno vows, Nor offerd any; she had never heard Of plight and promises to be a spouse, Or perils by a loving maid incurr d ; She was all which pure ignorance allows, And flew to her young mate like a young bird ; And never having dreamt of falsehood, she Had not one word to say of constancy. CXGI. She loved, and was beloved — she adored, And she was worshipp'd after nature's fashion; Their intense souls, into each other pour d, If souls could die, had perish' d in thai passion, — But by degrees their .senses were restored, Again to be o ercome, again to dash on ; And, beating 'gainsl bis bosom, Haidee's heart Felt ;is if never more n> beat apart. / t CANTO II. 145 CXCII. Alas! they were so young, so beautiful, So lonely, loving, helpless, and the hour Was that in which the heart is always full, And, having o'er itself no further power, Prompts deeds eternity can not annul, But pays off moments in an endless shower Of hell-fire — all prepared for people giving Pleasure or pain to one another living. CXCIII. Alas ! for Juan and Haidee ! they were So loving, and so lovely — till then never, Excepting our first parents, such a pair Had run the risk of being danm'd for ever ; And Haidee, being devout as well as fair, Had, doubtless, heard about the Stygian river, And hell and purgatory — but forgot Just in the very crisis she should not. CXCIV. They look upon each other, and their eyes Gleam in the moonlight ; and her white arm clasps Round Juan's head, and his around hers lies Half buried in the tresses which it grasps; She sits upon his knee, and drinks his sighs, He hers, until they end in broken gasps ; And thus they form a group that's quite antique, Half naked, loving, natural, and Greek. vol. n. 10 J j 146 DON JUAN. CXGV. And when those deep and burning moments passd, And Juan sunk to sleep within her arms, She slept not, but all tenderly, though fast, Sustain' d his head upon her bosom's charms ; And now and then her eye to heaven is cast, And then on the pale cheek her breast now warms, Pillow'd on her oei flowing heart, which pants, With all it granted, and with all it grants. CXCVI. fi An infant when it gazes on a light, A child the moment when it drains the breast, A devotee when soars the Host in sight. An Arab with a stranger for a guest, A sailor when the prize has struck in fight, A miser filling his most hoarded chest, Feel rapture ; but not such true joy are reaping As they who watch o'er what they love while sleeping. cxcvn. For there it lies so tranquil, so beloved, All that it hath of life with us is living; So gentle, stirless, helpless, and unmoved, And all unconscious of the joy t is giving ; All it IkiiIi felt, inflicted, passd, and proved, Hush (I into depths beyond the watcher's diving; There lies the thing we love with all its errors, And all its charms, like death \\ ithout its terrors. CANTO II. 1^7 CXCVIII. The lady watch'd her lover — and that hour Of love's, and night's, and ocean's solitude, Oerflow'd her soul with their united power; Amidst the barren sand and rocks so rude She and her wave-worn love had made their Lower, Where nought upon their passion could intrude ; And all the stars that crowded the blue space, Saw nothing happier than her glowing face. CXCIX. Alas ! the love of women ! it is' known To be a lovely and a fearful thing ; For all of theirs upon that die is thrown, And if 't is lost, life hath no more to bring To them but mockeries of the past alone, And their revenge is as the tigers spring, Deadly, and quick, and crushing ; yet, as real Torture is theirs, what they inflict they feel. CC. They are right; for man, to man so oft unjust, Is always so to women ; one sole bond Awaits them, treachery is all thai* trust; Taught to conceal, their bursting hearts despond Over their idol, till some wealthier lust Buys them in marriage — and what rests beyond? A thankless husband, next a faithless lover, Then dressing, nursing, praying, and all \s over. 10. m DON JUAN. CGI. Some take a lover, some take drams or prayers, Some mind their household, others dissipation, Some run away, and hut exchange their cares. Losing the advantage of a virtuous station ; Few changes eer can hetter their affairs, Theirs heing an unnatural situation, From the dull palace to the dirty hovel : Some play the devil, and then write a novel. ecu. Ilaidee was natures bride, and knew not this; Haidee was passions child, born where the sun Showers triple light, and scorches even the kiss Of his gazelle-eyed daughters ; she was one Made but to love, to feel that she was his Who was her chosen : what was said or done Elsewhere was nothing. — She had nought to fear, Hope, care, nor love beyond, her heart beat here. CCIII. And oh! that quickening of t!ie heart, that beat! How much it costs us ! yet each rising throb Js in its cause as its effect so sweet, That wisdom, ever on the watch to rob Joy of its alchymy, and to repeat Fine truths, even conscience, too, has a tough job To make us understand each good old maxim, So good — 1 wonder (lasllereagh don't lax 'em. CANTO II. 149 CCIV. And now t was done — on the lone shore were plighted Their hearts; the stars, their nuptial torches, shed Beauty upon the beautiful they lighted : Ocean their witness, and the cave their bed, By their own feelings hallow d and united, Their priest was solitude, and they were wed, And they were happy, for to their young eyes Each was an angel, and earth paradise. GCV. Oh Love! of whom great Caesar was the suitor, Titus the master, Antony the slave, Horace, Catullus scholars, Ovid tutor, Sappho the sage blue-stocking, in whose grave All those may leap who rather would be neuter — (Leucadia's rock still overlooks the wave) Oh Love' thou art the very god of evil, For, after all, we cannot call thee devi CCVI. 3 wavej Thou mak'st the chaste connubial state precarious, And jestest with the brows of mightiest men; Caesar and Pompey, Mahomet, Belisarius, Have much cinployd the muse of history's pen; Their lives and fortunes were extremely various, Such worthies time will never see again; Yet to these four in three things the same luck holds They all were heroes, conquerors, and cuckolds. 150 DON J CAN. CUV II. Thou inak st philosophers: there s Epicurus And Aristippus, a material crew ! Who to immoral courses would allure us, By theories quite practicable too ; 11 only from the devil they would insure us, How pleasant were the maxim (not quite new), « Eat, drink, and love, what can the rest avail us?* So said the royal sage Sardanapalus. CGVIII. J Hit Juan! had he quite forgotten Julia, And should he have forgotten her so soon? I cant but say it seems to me most truly a Perplexing question; but, no doubt the moon Does these things for us, and whenever newly a Palpitation rises, ' is her boon, I .l>e how the devil is it that fresh features Have such a charm for us poor human creatures? 1 CCIX. I hate inconstancy — 1 loathe, detest, Abhor, condemn, abjure the mortal made ( >l mhIi quicksilver clay that in his breast No permanent foundation can be laid; Love, constant love, has been my constant guest, Ami \ci lasl ni;;ht, being at a masquerade, I s,i\\ the prettiest creature, fresh from Milan, Which gave nit! some sensations like a villain. CANTO II. 151 CCX. But soon philosophy came to my aid, And whisper'd « think of every sacred tie ! » « I will, my dear philosophy !» I said, « But then her teeth, and then, oh Heaven! her eye! I 11 just inquire if she be wife or maid, Or, neither — out of curiosity. » « Stop!» cried philosophy, with air so Grecian, (Though she was masqued then as a fair Venetian.) CCXI. << Stop ! » so I stoppd. — But to return : that which i\leu call inconstan cy is nothing, more Than admi ration due wh ere natures rich Profusion with young beauty covers o'er Some favour d object : aud as in the niche A lovely statue we almost adore, This sort of adoration of the real Is but a heightening of the « beau ideal. » GCXII. T is the percepti on of the be autiful, A fine extension of the faculties, Platonic, universal, wonderful, Drawn from the stars, and filterd through the skies, Without which life would be extremely dull; In short, it is the use of our own eyes, With one or two small senses added, just To hint that flesh is form d of fiery dust. y 152 DON JUAN. CGXI1I. / Yet t is a painful feeling, and unwilling, I For, surely, if we always could perceive Tn the same object graces quite as killing As when she rose upon us like an Eve, T would save us many a heart-ache, many a shilling (For we must get them any how, or grieve), Whereas, if one sole lady pleased for ever, How pleasant for the heart, as well as liver \ CGXIV. The heart is like the sky, a part of heaven, But changes night and day too, like the sky, ISow o'er it clouds and thunder must be driven, And darkness and destruction as on high; But when it hath been scorchd, and pierced, and riven, Its storms expire in water-drops; the eye Pours forth at last the hearts-blood turnd to tears, Which make the English climate of our years. ccxv. The liver is the lazaret of bile, I Jut very rarely executes its function, For the first passion stays there such a while, That all the rest creep in and form a junction, Like knots of vipers on a dunghill's soil — Rage, fear, hate, jealousy, revenge, compunction, So that all mischiefs spring up from this entrail, Like earthquakes from the hidden lire calFd « central." CANTO II. 153 GCXVI. In the mean time, without proceeding more In this anatomy, 1 've finish 1 d now Two hundred and odd stanzas as before, That being about the number I 11 allow Each canto of the twelve, or twenty four; And, laying down my pen, I make my bow, Leaving Don Juan and llaidee to plead For them and theirs with all who deign to read. END OF CANTO II. DON JUAN CANTO III. Hail Muse! et cetera. — We left Juan sleeping, Pillow'd upon a fair and happy breast, And watchd by eyes that never yet knew weeping, And loved by a young heart, too deeply blest To feel the poison through her spirit creeping, Or know who rested there ; a foe to rest Had soild the current of her sinless years, And turnd her pure hearts purest blood to tears. II. ( Hi, Love! what is it in this world of ours Which makes it fatal to be loved? Ah why \Vith cypress branches hast thou wreathed thy bowers, And made thy best interpreter a sigh? As those who dote on odours pluck the flowers, And place them on their breast — but place to die — Thus the frail beings we would fondly cherish Are laid within our bosoms but to perish. 156 DON JUAN. III. In her first passion woman loves her lover, In all the others all she loves is love, Which grows a habit she can ne'er get over, And fits her loosely — like an easy glove, As you may find, whene'er you like to prove her : One man alone at first her heart can move, She then prefers him in the plural number, Not finding that the additions much encumber. IV. I know not if the fault be mens or theirs ; But one thing 's pretty sure ; a woman planted- (Unless at once she plunge for life in prayers) After a decent time must be gallanted ; Although, no doubt, her first of love affairs Is that to which her heart is whollv granted; Yet there are some, they say, who have had none, Hut those who have ne'er end with only one. 'T is melancholy, and a fearful sign < If human frailty, folly, also crime, Thai love and marriage rarely can combine, Although they boll) are born in the same clime; Marriage from love, like vinegar from \\ ine — A s; 1( |, sour, sober beverage — by time I- sharpen' d from its high celestial flavour Down to a \ci\ homelv household savour. CANTO III 157 VI. There s something of antipathy, as t were, Between their present and their future state; A kind of flattery that s hardly fair Is used until the truth arrives too late — Yet what can people do, except despair? The same things change their names at such a rate; For instance, passion in a lover 's glorious, But in a husband is pronounced uxorious. VII. Men grow ashamed of being so very fond, They sometimes also get a little tired, (But that, of course, is rare) and then despond : The same things cannot always be admired, Yet t is « so nominated in the bond," That both are tied till one shall have expired. Sad thought! to lose the spouse that was adorning Our days, and put one's servants into mourning. VIII. There 's doubtless something in domestic doings, Which forms, in fact, true love's antithesis ; Romances paint at full length, people's wooings, But only give a bust of marriages; lor no one cares for matrimonial cooings, There's nothing wrong in a connubial kiss Think you, if Laura had been Petrarch's wife He would have written sonnes all his life? 158 DON JUAN. IX. All tragedies are finish'd by a death, All comedies are ended by a marriage ; The future states of both are left to faith, For authors fear description might disparage