Ex Libris 
 C. K. OGDEN 
 
 UNIV. OF CALIF. LIBRARY, LOS ANGELES
 
 DON JUAN 
 
 LORD BYRON. 
 
 CANTOS I. TO VI. 
 
 Difficile est proprie communia dicere." 
 
 HOK. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS. 
 MDCCCXXVI.
 
 Thomas White, Printer. 
 Johnson' Con::.
 
 THE 
 
 WORKS 
 
 LORD BYRON 
 
 VOL. IX. 
 
 LONDON : 
 PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS. 
 
 MDCCCXXVJ.
 
 STACK ANNEX 
 
 V! 
 
 DON JUAN, 
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 I. 
 
 1 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 fill'd their sign-posts then, like Wellesley now ; 
 
 Each in their turn like Banquo's monarchs stalk, 
 Followers of fame, " nine farrow" of that sow : 
 
 France, too, had Bonaparte and Dumourier 
 
 Recorded in the Moniteur and Courier.
 
 DON JUAN- CANTO i. 
 
 III. 
 
 Baruare, Brissot, Condorcet, Mirabeau, 
 Petion, Clootz, Danton, Marat, La Fayette, 
 
 Were French, and famous people, as we know ; 
 And there wiere others, scarce forgotten yet, 
 
 Joubert, Hoche, Marceau, Lannes, Dessaix, Moreau, 
 With many of the military set, 
 
 Exceedingly remarkable at times, 
 
 But not at all adapted to my rhymes. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Nelson was once Britannia's god of war, 
 And still should be so, but the tide is turn'd ; 
 
 There's no more to be said of Trafalgar, 
 'Tis with our hero quietly inurn'd ; 
 
 Because the army's grown more popular, 
 At which the naval people are concern'd : 
 
 Besides,*the Prince is all for the land-service, 
 
 Forgetting Duncan, Nelson, Howe, and Jervis. 
 
 V. 
 
 Brave men were living before Agamemnon (1) 
 And since, exceeding valorous and sage, 
 
 A good deal like him too, though quite the same none ; 
 But then they shone not on the poet's page, 
 
 And so have been forgotten : I condemn none, 
 But can't find any in the present age 
 
 Fit for my poem (that is for my new one) ; 
 
 So, as I said, Pll take my friend Don Juan.
 
 CANTO i. DON JUAN. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Most epic poets plunge in " medias res," 
 (Horace makes this the heroic turnpike road) 
 
 And then your hero tells whene'er you please, 
 What went before by way of episode, 
 
 While seated after dinner at his ease, 
 Beside his mistress in some soft abode, 
 
 Palace, or garden, paradise, or cavern, 
 
 Which serves the happy couple for a tavern. 
 
 VII. 
 
 That is the usual method, but not mine 
 My way is to begin with the beginning, 
 
 The regularity of my design 
 
 Forbids all wandering as the worst of sinning. 
 
 And therefore I styall open with a line 
 (Although it cost me half an hour in spinning) 
 
 Narrating somewhat of Don Juan's father, 
 
 And also of his mother, if you'd rather. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 In Seville was he born, a pleasant city, 
 Famous for oranges and woman he 
 
 Who has not seen it, will be much to pity, 
 JSo says the proverb and I quite agree; 
 
 Of all the Spanish towns is none more pretty, 
 Cadiz perhaps but that you soon may see : 
 
 Don Juan's parents lived beside the river, 
 
 A noble stream, and call'd the Guadalquivir.
 
 DON JUAN. CANTO i. 
 
 IX. 
 
 His father's name was Jose Don of course, 
 
 A true Hidalgo, free from every stain 
 Of Moor or Hebrew blood, he traced his source 
 
 Through the most Gothic gentlemen of Spain ; 
 A better cavalier ne'er mounted horse, 
 
 Or, being mounted, e'er got down again, 
 Than Jose, who begot our hero, who 
 Begot but that's to come Well, to renew: 
 
 X. 
 
 His mother was a learned lady, famed 
 For every branch of every science known 
 
 In every Christian language ever named, 
 With virtues equall'd by her wit alone, 
 
 She made the cleverest people quite ashamed, 
 And even the good with inward envy groan, 
 
 Finding themselves so very much exceeded 
 
 In their own way by all the things that she did. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Her memory was a mine : she knew by heart 
 All Calderon, and greater part of Lope, 
 
 So that if any actor miss'd his part 
 
 She could have served him for the prompter's copy : 
 
 For her Feinagle's were an useless art, 
 And he himself obliged to shut up shop he 
 
 Could never make a memory so fine as 
 
 That which adorned the brain of Donna Inez .
 
 CANTO i. DON JUAN. 
 
 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 won't stay puzzling. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 She knew the Latin that is, " the Lord's 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 Avas obscure , 
 
 Her thoughts were theorems, her words a problem, 
 
 As if she deeni'd that mystery would ennoble 'em. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 She liked the English and the Hebrew tongue, 
 And said there was analogy between 'em, 
 
 She prov'd it somehow out of sacred song, 
 But I must leave the proofs to those who've seen 'em ; 
 
 But 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."
 
 DON JUAN. CANTO i. 
 
 XV 
 
 XVI. 
 
 In short, she was a walking calculation, 
 
 Miss Edgeworth's novels stepping from their covers, 
 Or Mrs. Trimmer's books on education, 
 
 Or " Coelebs' 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 given up his garrison: 
 Even her minutest motions went as well 
 
 As those of the best time-piece made by Harrison : 
 In virtue nothing earthly could surpass her, 
 
 Save thine " incomparable oil," Macassar ! (2)
 
 CANTO i. DON JUAN. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Perfect she was, but as perfection is 
 
 Insipid in this naughty world of ours, 
 Where our first parents never learned to kiss, 
 
 Till they were exiled from their earlier bowers, 
 Where all was peace, and innocence, and bliss, 
 
 (I wonder how they got through the twelve hours,) 
 Don Jose, like a lineal son of Eve, 
 Went plucking various fruits without her leave. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 He was a mortal of the careless kind, 
 
 With no great love for learning or the learn'd. 
 
 Who chose to go where'er he had a mind, 
 And never dream'd his lady was concern'd ; 
 
 The world, as usual, wickedly inclined 
 To see a kingdom or a house o'erturn'd, 
 
 Whisper'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 mix'd up fancies with realities,, 
 
 And let few opportunities escape 
 
 Of getting her liege lord into a scrape.
 
 DON JUAN- CANTO i. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 This w^s 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 : 
 I don't choose to say much upon this head, 
 
 I 'm a plain man, and in a single station, 
 But Oh ! ye lords of ladies intellectual, 
 Inform us truly, have they not hen-pecked you all ? 
 
 XXIII 
 
 Don Jose and his lady quarrell'd why, 
 
 Not any of the many could divine, 
 Though several thousand people chose to try, 
 
 'Twas surely no concern of theirs nor mine ; 
 I loathe that low vice, curiosity, 
 
 But if there's any thing in which I shine, 
 'Tis in arranging all my friends' affairs, 
 Not having, of my own, domestic cares.
 
 CANTO i. DON JUAN. 
 
 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 1 
 
 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-
 
 10 DON JUAN. CANTO i. 
 
 XXVII. 
 For Inez call'd some druggists and physicians, 
 
 And tried to prove her loving lord was mad, 
 But as he had some lucid intermissions, 
 
 She next decided he was only bad; 
 Yet when they ask'd her for her depositions, 
 
 No sort of explanation could lie 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 had 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 husband's woes, 
 
 Just as the Spartan ladies did of yore, 
 Who saw their spouses kill'd, and nobly chose 
 
 Never to say a word about them more 
 Calmly she heard each calumny that rose, 
 
 And saw his agonies with STich sublimity, 
 
 That all the world exclaim'd, "What magnanimity!"
 
 CANTO i. DON JUAN. 1 1 
 
 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 gtories, 
 And help them with a lie or two additional ; 
 
 I'm not to blame, as you well know, no more is 
 Any 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 scandals form good subjects for dissection. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Their friends had tried at reconciliation, 
 
 Then their relations, who made matters worse ; 
 
 ('Twere 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.
 
 12 DON JUAN. CANTO r. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 He died : and most unluckily, because, 
 According to all hints I could collect 
 
 From counsel learned in those kinds of laws, 
 
 (Although their talk 's 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' fees ; 
 
 His house was sold, his servants sent away, 
 A Jew took one of his two mistresses, 
 
 A priest the other at least so they say ; 
 I ask'd the doctors after his disease, 
 
 He died of the slow fever call'd the tertian, 
 
 And left his widow to her own aversion. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Yet Jose was an honourable man, 
 
 That I 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 Numa's (who was also named Pompilius), 
 
 He had been ill brought up, and was born bilious.
 
 CANTO i. DON JUAN- 13 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Whate'er might be his worthlessness or worth, 
 Poor fellow ! he had many things to wound him, 
 
 Let's own, since it can do no good 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' 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 hands ; 
 
 Inez became sole guardian, which was fair, 
 And answer'd 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.
 
 14 DON JUAN. CANTO i. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 But 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, excepting natural history. 
 
 XL. 
 
 The languages, especially the dead, 
 The sciences, and most of all the 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 j 
 But not a page of any thing that's loose, 
 
 Or hints continuation of the species, 
 
 Was ever sufferM, 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, 
 But never put on pantaloons or bodices j 
 
 His reverend tutors had at times a tussle, 
 And for their ^Eneids, Iliads, and Odysseys, 
 
 Were forced to make an odd sort of apology, 
 
 For Donna Inez dreaded the mythology.
 
 CANTO i. DON JUAN. 15 
 
 XLII. 
 
 Ovid 's a rake, as half his verses show him, 
 Anacreon's 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 Corydon" 
 
 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. 
 
 J uan was taught from out the best edition, 
 Expurgated by learned men, who place 
 
 Judiciously, from out the schoolboy'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, (4) 
 
 Which saves, in fact, the trouble of an index ;
 
 16 DON JUAN. CANTO i. 
 
 XLV 
 
 For there we have them all at one fell swoop, 
 Instead of being scatter'd through the pages ; 
 
 They stand forth marshall'd in a handsome troop, 
 To meet the 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. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 
 The Missal too (it was the family 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. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 Sermons he read, and lectures he -endured, 
 And homilies, and lives of all the saints ; 
 
 To Jerome and Chrysostom inured, 
 
 He did 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 Confessions, 
 
 Which make the reader envy his transgressions.
 
 CANTO i. DON JUAN. 17 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 This, too, was a seal'd book to little Juan 
 I can't but say that his mamma was right, 
 
 If such an education was the true one. 
 She scarcely trusted him from out her sight; 
 
 Her 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 husband's life 
 
 I recommend as much to every wife. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 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 man's maturer growth was given : 
 He studied steadily, and grew apace, 
 
 And seem'd, at least, in the right road to heaven, 
 For half his days were pass'd 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 \vild, 
 They tamed him down amongst them : to destroy 
 
 His natural spirit not in vain they toil'd, 
 At least it seem'd so ; and his mother's joy 
 
 Was to declare how sage, and still, and steady, 
 
 Her young philosopher was grown already. 
 VOL i. c
 
 18 DON JUAN. CANTO i. 
 
 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 sire 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 I 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 pick'd up my own knowledge. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 For there one learns 'tis 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's the place but " Verbum sat," 
 
 I think I pick'd 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. DON JUAN- 19 
 
 LIV. 
 
 Young Juan now was sixteen years of age, 
 Tall, handsome, slender, but well knit; he seem'd 
 
 Active, though not so sprightly as a page ; 
 And every body but his mother deem'd 
 
 Him almost man ; but she flew in a rage 
 And bit her lips (for else she might have scream'd), 
 
 If any said so, for to be precocious 
 
 Was in her eyes a thing the most atrocious. 
 
 LV. 
 
 Amongst her numerous acquaintances, all 
 
 Selected for discretion and devotion, 
 There was 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 by; 
 
 In Spain, you know, this is a sort of sin.) 
 When proud Grenada fell, and, forced to fly, 
 
 Boabdil wept, of Donna Julia's kin 
 Some went to Africa, some staid in Spain, 
 
 Her great great grandmamma chose to remain. 
 i
 
 20 DON JUAN. CANTO i. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 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. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 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 branch as beautiful as fresh ; 
 
 The sons no more were short, the daughters plain : 
 But there's a rumour which I fain would hush, 
 
 'Tis said that Donna Julia's grandmamma 
 
 Produced her Don more heirs at love than law. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 However this might be, the race went on 
 Improving still through every generation, 
 
 Until it center'd in an only son, 
 
 Who left an only daughter, my narration 
 
 May have suggested that this single one 
 Could be but Julia (whom on this occasion 
 
 I shall have much to speak about), and she 
 
 Was married, charming, chaste, and twenty-three.
 
 DON JUAN. 21 
 
 LX. 
 
 Her eye (I'm very foud of handsome eyes) 
 Was large and dark, suppressing half its fire 
 
 Until she spoke, then through its soft disguise 
 Flash'd an expression more of pride than ire, 
 
 And love than either j 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 chasten'd down the whole. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 Her glossy hair was cluster'd o'er a brow 
 Bright with intelligence, and fair and smooth ; 
 
 Her eyebrow's shape was 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\vere better to have TWO of five and twenty, 
 
 Especially in countries near the sun : 
 
 And now I think on't, " mi vien in mente," 
 
 Ladies even of the most uneasy virtue 
 
 Prefer a spouse whose age is short of thirty.
 
 DON JUAN. CANTO i. 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 Tis 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. 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 Happy the nations of the moral north ! 
 
 Where all is virtue, and the winter season 
 Sends sin, without a rag on, shivering forth ; 
 
 ('Twas snow that brought St. Anthony to reason) ; 
 Where juries cast up what a wife is worth 
 
 By laying whate'er sum, in mulct, they please on 
 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 ; 
 
 Yet he was jealous, though he did not show it, 
 
 For jealousy dislikes the world to know it.
 
 CANTO i. DON JUAN. 23 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 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 ; 
 
 LXVI I. 
 
 And that still keeping up the old connexion 
 
 Which time had lately rendered 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 puzzled what to think or say, 
 
 She kept her counsel in so close a way.
 
 24 DON JUAN- CANTO i. 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 Juan she saw, and, as a pretty child, 
 Caress'd him often, such a thing might be 
 
 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 few short years make wonderous alterations, 
 
 Particularly amongst sun-burnt nations- 
 
 LXX. 
 
 Whate'er 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 of ocean. 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 Yet Julia's very coldness still was kind, 
 
 And tremulously gentle her small hand 
 Withdrew itself from bis, but left behind 
 
 A little pressure, thrilling, and so bland 
 And slight, so very slight, that to the mind 
 
 'Twas but a doubt ; but ne'er magician's wand 
 Wrought change with all Armida's fairy art 
 Like what this light touch left on Juan's heart-
 
 CANTO i. DON JUAN. 25 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 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 hypocrisy from youth. 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 But passion most dissembles yet betrays 
 Even by its darkness ; as the blackest sky 
 
 Fortells the heaviest tempest, it displays 
 Its workings through the vainly-guarded eye, 
 
 And in whatever aspect it arrays 
 Itself, 'tis still the same hypocrisy; 
 
 Coldness or anger, even 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 
 
 Embarrass'd at first starting with a novice-
 
 26 DON JUAN. CANTO i. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 Poor Julia's heart was in an awkward state ; 
 
 She felt it going, and resolved to make 
 The noblest 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 being 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 we must feel upon occasion, 
 
 For people who are pleasanter than others, 
 
 But then they only seem so many brothers.
 
 CANTO i. DON JUAN. 27 
 
 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 be the better when they're over; 
 And if the man should ask, 'tis but denial : 
 I recommend young ladies to make trial . 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 And then there are such things as love divine, 
 Bright and immaculate, unmix'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 then a lip be kist; 
 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 ! 
 
 Tf people go beyond, 'tis quite a crime, 
 
 But not my fault I tell them all in time.
 
 28 DON JUAN. CANTO i. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 Love, then, but love within its proper limits, 
 
 Was Julia's 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 
 
 Etherial 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 mention'd in the sequel. 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 Her plan she deem'd both innocent and feasible, 
 And, surely, with a stripling of sixteen 
 
 Not scandal's fangs could fix on much that's seizable, 
 Or if they did so, satisfied to mean 
 
 Nothing but what was good, her breast was peaceable 
 A quiet conscience makes one so serene ! 
 
 Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded 
 
 That all the Apostles would have done as they did.
 
 CANTO I. DON JUAN. 29 
 
 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 nouf, 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 fully 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 we'll 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.
 
 30 DON JUAN. CANTO i. 
 
 LXXXVIL 
 
 Silent and^jensive, 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 sultan's, 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.' 1 
 
 The bard I quote from does not sing amiss(5), 
 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 dislurb'd at meals 
 
 Or love. I won't say more about "entwined'' 
 
 Or " transport,' 1 as we knew all that before, 
 
 But beg " Security" will bolt the door.
 
 CANTO i. DON JUAN. 31 
 
 XC. 
 
 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 Wordsworth, they proved 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'd, without perceiving his condition, 
 
 Like Coleridge, into a metaphysician. 
 
 XCII. 
 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.
 
 32 DON JUAN. CANTO i. 
 
 XCIII. 
 
 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\vas strange that one so young should thus concern 
 His brain about the action of the sky ; 
 
 If you think 'twas 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 miss'd the pathway, he forgot the hours, 
 And when he look'd upon his watch again, 
 
 He found how much old Time bad 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 'twere one whereon magicians bind 
 Their spells, and give them to the passing gale, 
 According to some good old woman's tale.
 
 CANTO i. DON JUAN. 33 
 
 XCVI. 
 
 Thus would he while his lonely hours away 
 Dissatisfied, not knowing what he wanted; 
 
 Nor glowing reverie, nor poet's lay, 
 
 Could yield his spirit that for which it panted, 
 
 A bosom whereon he his head might lay, 
 And hear the heart beat 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 lengthening reveries, 
 Could not escape the gentle Julia's 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. 
 
 XCVIII. 
 
 This may seem strange, but yet 'tis very common 
 For instance gentlemen, whose ladies take 
 
 Leave to o'erstep 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. 
 VOL. i. D
 
 34 DON JUAN. CANTO i. 
 
 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 pandering 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, but not his folly. 
 
 C. 
 
 Thus parents also are at times short-sighted; 
 
 Though watchful as the lynx, they ne'er discover, 
 The while the wicked world beholds delighted, 
 
 Young hopeful's mistress, or Miss Fanny's lover, 
 Till some confounded escapade has blighted 
 
 The plan of twenty years, arid all is over; 
 And then the mother cries, the father swears, 
 And wonders why the devil he got heirs. 
 
 01. 
 
 But Inez was so anxious, and so clear 
 
 Of sight, that I must think, on this occasion, 
 
 She had some other motive much more near 
 For leaving Juan to this new temptation ; 
 
 But what that motive was* I sha'n't say here; 
 Perhaps to finish Juan's education, 
 
 Perhaps to open Don Alfonso's eyes, 
 
 In case he thought his wife too great a prize.
 
 CANTO i. DON JUAN. 35 
 
 GIL 
 
 It was upon a day, a summer's day; 
 
 Summer's indeed a very dangerous season, 
 
 And so is spring about the end of May ; 
 
 The sun, no doubt, is the prevailing reason ; 
 
 But whatsoe'er the cause 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. 
 
 'Twas on a summer's day the sixth of June : 
 
 I like to be 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. 
 
 CIV. 
 
 'Twas on the sixth of 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 
 
 He won them well, and may he wear them long !
 
 36 DON JUAN. CANTO i. 
 
 CV. 
 
 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 befell, 
 But there were she and Juan, face to face 
 
 When two such faces are so, 'twould be 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. 
 
 CVI I. 
 
 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 occurr'd, in sooth, 
 
 Because that number rarely much endears, 
 And through all climes, the snowy and the sunny, 
 Sounds ill in love, whate'er it may in money.
 
 DON JUAN. 37 
 
 CVIII. 
 
 When people say, "I've told youjifty times/' 
 They mean to scold, and very often do ; 
 
 When poets say, " I've written ,/^/Ty rhymes," 
 They make you dread that they'll recite them too ; 
 
 In gangs of jiffy thieves commit their crimes ; 
 &* fifty l ve f r l ve is rare, 'tis true, 
 
 But then, no douot, 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, 
 By ail 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 play'd within the tangles of her hair; 
 
 And to contend with thoughts she could not smother, 
 She seem'd by the distraction of her air. 
 
 'Twas surely very wrong in Juan's mother 
 To leave together this imprudent pair, 
 
 She who for many years had watch'd her son so 
 
 I 'm very certain mine would not have done so.
 
 38 DON JUAN- CANTO i. 
 
 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. 
 
 CXII. 
 
 I cannot know what Juan thought of this, 
 But what he did, is much what you would do; 
 
 His young lip thank'd it with a grateful kiss, 
 And then, abash'd at its own joy, withdrew 
 
 In deep despair, lest he had done amiss, 
 Love is so very timid when 'tis new : 
 
 She blush'd, and frown'd not, but she strove to speak, 
 
 And held her tongue, her voice was grown so weak. 
 
 CXIII. 
 
 The sun set, and up rose the yellow moon : 
 The devil's in the moon for mischief; they 
 
 Who call'd her CHASTE, methinks, began too soon 
 Their nomenclature ; there is not a day, 
 
 The longest, not the twenty-first of June, 
 Sees half the business in a wicked way 
 
 On which three single hours of moonshine smile 
 
 And then she looks so modest all the while.
 
 DON JUAN. 3Q 
 
 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 back 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. 
 
 r 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 'twere easy to withdraw her waist ; 
 But then the situation had its charm, 
 
 And then God knows what next I can't go on ; 
 
 I 'in almost sorry that I e'er begun. 
 
 CXVI. 
 
 Oil 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, that 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.
 
 40 DON JUAN. 
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 CXVil. 
 
 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 ne'er consent" consented. 
 
 CXVIII. 
 
 Tis said that Xerxes offer'd 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) j 
 
 I care not for new pleasures, as the old 
 
 Are quite enough for me, so they but hold. 
 
 CXIV. 
 
 Oh Pleasure ! you're indeed a pleasant thing, 
 
 Although one must be dainn'd for you, no doubt j 
 
 I make a resolution every spring 
 
 Of reformation, ere the year run out, 
 
 But, somehow, this my vestal vow takes wing. 
 Yet still, I trust, it may be kept throughout : 
 
 I 'm very sorry, very much ashamed, 
 
 And mean, next winter, to be quite reclaim'd.
 
 CANTO i. DON JUAN. 
 
 CXX. 
 Here my chaste Muse a liberty must take 
 
 Start not ! still chaster reader she'll be 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, 'tis 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 mouths have pass'd ; we'll say 
 
 'Twas in November, but I 'm not so sure 
 
 About the day the era's more obscure. 
 
 CXXII. 
 
 WV11 talk of that anon. 'Tis sweet to hear 
 At midnight on the blue and moonlit deep 
 
 The song and oar of Adria's gondolier, 
 
 By distance mellow'd, o'er the waters sweep ; 
 
 'Tis sweet to see the evening star appear; 
 'Tis sweet to listen as the nightwinds creep 
 
 From leaf to leaf; 'tis sweet to view on high 
 
 The rainbow, based on ocean, span the sky.
 
 4 DON JUAN. CANTO i. 
 
 CXX1II. 
 'Tis sweet to hear the watchdog's honest bark 
 
 Bay deep-mouth'd welcome as we draw near home ; 
 'Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark 
 
 Our coming, and look brighter when we come ; 
 'Tis sweet to be awaken'd by the lark, 
 
 Or lull'd 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's birth, 
 Sweet is revenge especially to women, 
 Pillage to soldiers, prize-money to seamen. 
 
 cxxv. 
 
 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" wait too too long already 
 For an estate, or cash, or country-seat, 
 
 Still breaking, but with stamina so steady, 
 That all the Israelites are fit to mob its 
 Next owner for their double-damn'd post-obits-
 
 DON JUAN. 43 
 
 CXXVI. 
 
 'Tis sweet to win, no matter how, one's laurels 
 
 By blood or ink ; 'tis sweet to put an end 
 To strife ; 'tis 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. 
 
 CXXVII. 
 
 But sweeter still than this, than these, than all, 
 Is first and passionate love it stands alone, 
 
 Like Adam's recollection of his fall j 
 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 unforgiven 
 
 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.
 
 44 DON JUAN. CANTO i. 
 
 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. DON JUAN. 45 
 
 CXXXII. 
 
 This is the patent-age of new inventions 
 For killing bodies, and for saving souls, 
 
 All propagated with the best intentions j 
 
 Sir Humphrey Davy's 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. 
 
 CXXXIII. 
 
 Man's a phenomenon, one knows not what, 
 And wonderful beyond all wondrous measure ; 
 
 'Tis pity though, in this sublime \vorld, that 
 
 Pleasure's a sin, and sometimes sin's a pleasure; 
 
 Few mortals know what end they 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 clo not know, no more do you 
 And so good night. Return we to our story : 
 
 'Twas in November, when fine days are few, 
 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 o'clock.
 
 46 DON JUAN. 
 
 CXXXV. 
 
 Twas, as the watchmen say, a cloudy night ; 
 
 No moon, no stars, the wifid was low or loud 
 By gusts, and many a sparkling hearth was 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 'm fond of fire, and crickets, and all that, 
 A lobster salad, and champaigne, and chat. 
 
 CXXXVI. 
 
 'Twas 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 fasten'd, but with voice and fist 
 
 First knocks were heard, then " Madam Madam hist! 
 
 CXXXVII. 
 
 " 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 ! 
 
 " 'Tis 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. DON JUAN. 
 
 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 husband's temples to encumber : 
 Examples of this kind are so contagious, 
 Were one not punish'd, all would be outrageous. 
 
 cxxxix. 
 
 I can't tell how, or why, or what suspicion 
 
 Could enter into Don Alfonso's head ; 
 But for a cavalier of his condition 
 
 It surely was exceedingly ill-bred, 
 Without a word of previous admonition, 
 
 To hold a levee round his lady's bed, 
 And summon lackeys, arm'dwith fire and sword, 
 To prove himself the thing he most abhorr'd. 
 
 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 can't tell why she should take all this trouble 
 
 To prove her mistress had been sleeping double.
 
 48 DON JUAN. CANTO i. 
 
 CXLI. 
 
 But Julia mistress, and Antonia maid, 
 Appeared like t\vn 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 heaven's name, Don Alfonso, what d'ye mean ? 
 
 " Has madness seized you ? would that 1 had died 
 " Ere such a monster's 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 search'd, and rummaged every where, 
 Closet and clothes-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 neat : 
 
 Arras they prick'd and curtains with their swords, 
 
 And wounded several shutters, and some boards.
 
 CANTO i. DON JUAN 49 
 
 CXLIV. 
 
 Under the bed they search'd, and there they found- 
 No matter what it was not that they sought ; 
 
 They open'd windows, gazing if the ground 
 
 Had signs or footmarks, but the earth said nought ; 
 
 And then they stared each others' faces round : 
 Tis odd, not one of all these seekers thought, 
 
 And seems to me almost a sort of blunder, 
 
 Of looking in the bed as well as under- 
 
 CXLV. 
 
 During this inquisition Julia's tongue 
 
 Was not asleep "Yes, search and search,' 1 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'll 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 
 
 " For facts against a virtuous woman's fame ? 
 " Ungrateful, perjured, barbarous Don Alfonso, 
 " How dare you think your lady would go on so ?
 
 SO DON JUAN. CANTO i. 
 
 CXLVII. 
 " Is it for this 1 have disdain'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 rny very innocence perplex 
 " So much, he always doubted I was married 
 " How sorry you will be when I've miscarried ! 
 
 CXLVIII. 
 " 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 favoured none nay, was almost uncivil? 
 " Is it for this that General Count O'Reilly, 
 "Who took Algiers, declares I used him vilely? (6) 
 
 CXLIX. 
 
 " Did not the 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 there not also Russians, English, many ? 
 " The Count Strongstroganoff I put in pain, 
 
 " And Lord Mount Coffeehouse, the Irish peer, 
 
 " Who kill'd himself for love (with wine) last year.
 
 DON JUAN- 51 
 
 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 the moon is : 
 " I praise your vast forbearance not to beat 
 
 " Me also, since the time so opportune is 
 " Oh, valiant man ! with sword drawn and cock'd trigger, 
 " Now, tell me, don't you cut a pretty figure? 
 
 CLI. 
 
 " Was it for this you 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. 
 
 CLII. 
 
 " If he comes here to take a deposition, 
 " By all means let the gentleman proceed ; 
 
 " You've made the 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 fee'd 
 
 "But, as my maid's undrest, pray turn your spies out." 
 
 " Oh I" sobb'd Antonia, " I could tear their eyes out."
 
 52 DON JUAN- CANTO i. 
 
 CLIII. 
 
 " There is the closet, there the toilet, there 
 " The ante-chamber search them under, over ; 
 
 " There is the sofa, there the great arm-chair, 
 " The chimney which would really hold a lover. 
 
 " I wish to sleep, and beg you will take care 
 " And make no further noise, till you discover 
 
 " The secret cavern of this lurking treasure 
 
 " And when 'tis found, let me, too, have that pleasure. 
 
 CLIV. 
 " 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 for ? 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 be in vain. 
 
 CLV. 
 " 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 fears 
 
 " (Antonia ! let me have a glass of water.) 
 " I am ashamed of having shed these tears, 
 
 " They are unworthy of my father's daughter ; 
 " My mother dream'd not in my natal hour 
 " That I should fall into a monster's power.
 
 CANTO 1. DON JUAN. 53 
 
 CLVI. 
 
 " Perhaps 'tis of Antonia you are jealous, 
 " You saw that she was sleeping by my side 
 
 " When you broke in upon us with your fellows : 
 " Look where you please we've 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 
 
 " Drest 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, 
 
 " 'Twill one day ask you why you used me so ? 
 " God grant you feel not then the bitterest grief ! 
 "Antonia! where's my pocket-handkerchief?" 
 
 CLVIII. 
 
 She ceased, and turn'd upon her pillow ; pale 
 She lay, her dark eyes flashing 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.
 
 54 DON JUAN, CANTO i- 
 
 CL1X. 
 
 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 
 Not 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. 
 
 CLX. 
 
 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 care ; 
 
 So that a suit or action were made good, 
 Small pity had he for the young and fair, 
 
 And ne'er believed in negatives, till these, 
 
 Were proved by competent false witnesses. 
 
 CLXI. 
 
 But Don Alfonso stood with downcast looks, 
 And, truth to say, he made a foolish figure ; 
 
 When, after searching in five hundred nooks, 
 And treating a young wife with so much rigour, 
 
 He gain'd no point, except some self-rebukes 
 Added to those his lady with such vigour 
 
 Had pour'd upon him for the last half-hour, 
 
 Quick, thick, and heavy as a thunder-shower.
 
 CANTO i. DON JUAN. 
 
 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 mutter'd " D 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. 
 
 CLXIV. 
 
 With him retired his "posse comilatus," 
 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 fasten'd in his legal face.
 
 DON JUAN. CANTO i. 
 
 CLXV. 
 
 No sooner was it bolted, than Oh shame ! 
 
 Oh sin ! Oh sorrow ! and Oh womankind ! 
 How can you do such things and keep your fame, 
 
 Unless this world, and t'other too, be blind ? 
 Nothing so dear as an unfilch'd good name ! 
 
 But to proceed for there is more behind : 
 With much heart-felt reluctance be it said, 
 Young Juan slipp'd, half-smother'd, from the bed. 
 
 CLXVI. 
 
 He had been hid I don't pretend to say 
 How, nor can I indeed describe the where 
 
 Young, slender, and pack'd 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 ; 
 
 'Twcre better, sure, to die so, than be shut 
 
 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, fined by human laws, 
 At least 'twas rather early to begin ; 
 
 But at sixteen the conscience rarely gnaws 
 So much as when we call our old debts in 
 
 At sixty years, and draw the accompts of evil, 
 
 And find a deuced balance with the devil.
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 DON JUAN. 57 
 
 CLXVIII. 
 
 Of his position I can give no notion : 
 
 Tis written in the Hebrew Chronicle, 
 How the physicians, leaving pill and potion, 
 
 Prescribed, by way of blister, a young belle, 
 When old King David's blood grew dull in motion, 
 
 And that the medicine answer'd very well; 
 Perhaps 'twas in a different way applied, 
 For David lived, but Juan nearly died. 
 
 CLXIX. 
 
 What's to be done ? Alfonso will be back 
 The moment he has sent his fools away ; 
 
 Antonia's skill was put upon the rack, 
 
 But no device could be brought into play 
 
 And how to parry the renew'd attack; 
 Besides it wanted but few hours of day; 
 
 Antonia puzzled : Julia did not speak, 
 
 But press'd her bloodless lip to Juan's cheek. 
 
 CLXX. 
 
 He turn'd his lip to hers, and with his hand 
 
 Call'd back the tangles of her wandering hair ; 
 Even then their love they could not all command, 
 
 And half forgot their danger and despair : 
 Antonia's patience now was at a stand 
 
 " Come, come, 'tis no time now for fooling there," 
 She whisper'd in great wrath " I must deposit 
 
 " This pretty gentleman within the closet :
 
 58 DON JUAN. CANTO i. 
 
 CLXXI. 
 
 " 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'll lose your life, and I shall lose my place, 
 
 " My mistress all, for that half-girlish face. 
 
 CLXXII. 
 
 " 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 loiterM, and he told her to be gone, 
 An order somewhat sullenly obey'd ; 
 
 However, present remedy was none, 
 And no great good seem'd answer'd if she staid : 
 
 Regarding both with slow and sidelong view, 
 
 She snuff'd the candle, curtsied, and withdrew.
 
 CANTO i. DON JUAN. 59 
 
 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 husband's 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; 
 'Tis 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 'twas that one's 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.
 
 60 DON JUAN. 
 
 CANTO I 
 
 CLXXVII. 
 
 There might be one more motive, which makes two, 
 
 Alfonso ne'er to Juan had alluded, 
 Mention'd his jealousy, but never who 
 
 Had been the happy lover, he concluded, 
 Conceal'd amongst his premises; 'tis 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 me sad stuff, 
 
 But it will serve to keep my verse compact) 
 Which keeps, when push'd 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; 'tis of no great use, 
 
 In any case, attempting a reply, 
 
 For then their eloquence grows quite profuse; 
 
 And when at length they're out of breath, they sigh, 
 And cast their languid eyes down, and let loose 
 
 A tear or two, and then we make it up ; 
 
 And then and then and then sit down and sup.
 
 CANTO i. DON JUAN. 
 
 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'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 
 
 (No 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 1 
 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 relinquish'd 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."
 
 62 DON JUAN. 
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 CLXXXIII. 
 
 None can say that this was not good advice, 
 The only mischief was, it came too late ; % 
 
 Of all experience 'tis 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 knock'd him down. 
 
 CLXXXIV. 
 
 Dire was the scuffle, and out went the light, 
 Antonia cried out " Rape !" and Julia " Fire!" 
 
 But not a servant stirr'dto aid the fight. 
 Alfonso, pommell'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 martyr. 
 
 CLXXXV. 
 
 Alfonso's sword had dropp'd ere he could draw it, 
 And they continued battling hand to hand, 
 
 For Juan very luckily ne'er saw it ; 
 His temper not being under great command, 
 
 If at that moment he had chanced to claw it, 
 Alfonso's days had not been in the land 
 
 Much longer. Think of husbands', lovers' lives ! 
 
 And how ye may be doubly widowswives !
 
 CANTO i- DON JUAN. 63 
 
 CLXXXVI. 
 
 Alfonso grappled to detain the foe, 
 
 And Juan throttled him to get away, 
 And blood ('twas 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 ends between the pair. 
 
 CLXXXVII. 
 
 Lights came at length, and men, and maids, who found 
 An awkward spectacle their eyes before ; 
 
 Antouia in hysterics, Julia swoon'd, 
 
 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, turn'd the key about, 
 
 Ami liking not the inside, lock'd the out. 
 
 CLXXXVIII. 
 Here ends this canto. Need I sing, or say, 
 
 How Juan, naked, favour'd by the night, 
 Who favours what she should not, found his way, 
 
 And reach'd his home in an 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-
 
 64 DON JUAN. CANTO i. 
 
 CLXXXIX. 
 
 If you 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 nonsuit, or to annul, 
 
 There's more than one edition, and the readings 
 Are various, but they none of them are dull, 
 
 The best is that in shorthand ta'en by Gurney, 
 
 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 vow'd 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 for Cadiz. 
 
 CXCI. 
 
 She had resolved that he should travel through 
 All European climes, by land 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 sent into a convent ; she 
 
 Grieved, but, perhaps, her feelings may be better 
 
 Shown in the following copy of her letter :
 
 DON JUAN. 65 
 
 CXCII. 
 
 " They tell me 'tis decided ; you depart : 
 
 " 'Tis wise 'tis well, but not the less a pain ; 
 
 " I 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 ; I write in haste, and if a stain 
 
 " Be on this sheet, 'tis 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, stations, heaven, mankind's, my own esteem, 
 
 " And yet can not regret what it hath cost, 
 "So dear is still the memory of that dream; 
 
 " Yet if I name my guilt, 'tis 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, 
 
 " 'Tis woman's whole existence; man may range 
 
 " The court, camp, church, the vessel, and the mart, 
 " Sword, gown, gain, glory, offer in exchange, 
 
 " Pride, fame, ambition, to fill up his heart, 
 " And few there are whom these can not estrange; 
 
 " Men have all these resources, we but one 
 
 " To love again, and be again undone. 
 
 VOL. I. V
 
 66 DON JUAN. CANTO i 
 
 cxcv. 
 
 " You will 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 bear, but cannot cast aside 
 
 " The passion which still rages as before, 
 " And so farewell forgive me, love me No, 
 " That word is idle now but let it go. 
 
 CXCVI. 
 
 " 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, 
 
 " And yet I may as well the task fulfil, 
 " My misery can scarce be more complete 
 
 " I had not lived till now, could sorrow kill; 
 " Death shuns the wretch who fain the blow would meet, 
 
 " And I must even survive this last adieu, 
 
 " And bear with life, to love and pray for you !"
 
 CANTO i. DON JUAN. 67 
 
 CXCVIII. 
 This note was written upon gilt-edged paper 
 
 With a neat little crow quill, slight and new ; 
 Her 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, " Kile vous suit partout" 
 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 
 
 Dependent on the public altogether; 
 We'll see however, what they say to this ; 
 
 Their favour in an author's cap's a feather, 
 And no great mischief's done by their caprice ; 
 
 And if their approbation we experience, 
 
 Perhaps they '11 have some more about a year hence. 
 
 CC. 
 
 My poem's epic, and is meant to be 
 
 Divided in twelve books ; each book containing, 
 With love, and war, a heavy gale at sea, 
 
 A list of ships, and captains and kings reigning, 
 New characters ; the episodes are three : 
 
 A panorama view of hell's in training, 
 After the style of Virgil and of Homer, 
 So that my name of Epic's no misnomer.
 
 68 DON JUAN. CANTO i. 
 
 CGI. 
 All these things will be specified in time, 
 
 With strict regard to Aristotle's rules, 
 The vade mecum 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've got new mythological machinery, 
 And very handsome supernatural scenery. 
 
 ecu. 
 
 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, 
 
 But this will more peculiarly be seenl 
 They so embellish, that 'tis quite a bore, 
 
 Their labyrinth of fables to thread through, 
 
 Whereas this story's actually true. 
 
 com. 
 
 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, 
 But that which more completely faith exacts 
 
 Is, that myself, and several now in Seville, 
 
 Saw Juan's last elopement with the devil-
 
 CANTO i. DON JUAN. 6y 
 
 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 : 
 
 I '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 Campbell's Hippocrerie is somewhat drouthy: 
 Thou shalt not steal from Samuel Rogers, nor 
 Commit flirtation with the muse of Moore. 
 
 CCV1. 
 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 
 Exactly as you please, or not, the rod, 
 But if you don't, I'll lay it on, by G d!
 
 70 DON JUAN. 
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 CCVII. 
 
 If any person should 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 will be so pert) 
 That this is not a moral tale, though gay; 
 
 Besides, in canto twelfth, I mean to show 
 
 The very place where wicked people go. 
 
 CCVIIf. 
 
 If, after all, there should be some so blind 
 To their own good this warning to despise, 
 
 Led by some tortuosity of rnind, 
 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. 
 
 CCIX. 
 The public approbation I expect, 
 
 And beg they 111 take my word about the moral, 
 Which I with their amusement will connect, 
 
 (So children cutting teeth receive a coral) ; 
 Meantime, they'll doubtless please to recollect 
 
 My epical pretensions to the laurel : 
 For fear some prudish reader should grow skittish, 
 I 've bribed my grandmother's review the British.
 
 CANTO i. DON JUAN. 71 
 
 CCX. 
 I sent it in a letter to the editor, 
 
 Who thank'd 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, 
 All I can say is that he had the money. 
 
 CCXI- 
 
 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'd to multiply their clients, 
 
 Because they tell me 'twere in vain to try, 
 And that the Edinburgh Review and Quarterly 
 Treat a dissenting author very martyrly. 
 
 CCXII. 
 
 " Non ego hoc f err em calidajuventa 
 
 " Conmle 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 
 
 In my hot youth when George the Third was King.
 
 72 DON JUAN- CANTO i. 
 
 CCXI1I. 
 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 squandered my whole summer while 'twas May, 
 
 And feel no more the spirit to retort ; I 
 Have spent my life, both interest and principal, 
 And deem not, what I deem'd, my soul invincible. 
 
 ccxiv. 
 
 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' the bee : 
 Think'st thou the honey with those objects grew? 
 
 Alas ! 'twas not in them, but in thy power 
 
 To double even the sweetness of a flower. 
 
 ccxv. 
 
 No more no more Oh ! never more, my heart, 
 Canst thou be my sole world, my universe ! 
 
 Once all in all, but now a thing apart, 
 
 Thou canst not be my blessing or my curse : 
 
 The illusion's gone for ever, and thou art 
 Insensible, I trust, but none the worst, 
 
 And in thy stead I 've got a deal of judgment, 
 
 Though heaven knows how it ever found a lodgement-
 
 CANTO i. DON JUAN. 73 
 
 CCXVI. 
 
 My days 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 before, 
 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 forbid too, 
 
 So for a good old-gentlemanly vice, 
 
 I think I must take up with avarice. 
 
 CCXVIl. 
 
 Ambition was my idol, which was broken 
 Before the shrines of Sorrow and of Pleasure j 
 
 And the two last have left me many a token 
 O'er which reflection may be made as leisure : 
 
 Now like Friar Bacon's brazen head, I 've spoken, 
 
 " Time is, Time was, Time's past," a chymic treasure 
 
 Is glittering youth which I have spent betimes 
 
 My heart in passion, and my head on rhymes. 
 
 CCXVIII. 
 
 What is the end of fame ? 'tis but to fill 
 
 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.
 
 DON JUAN. CANTO i. 
 
 CCXIX. 
 
 What are the hopes of man ? old Egypt's king 
 
 Cheops erected the first pyramid 
 And largest, thinking it was just the thing 
 
 To keep his memory whole, and mummy hid ; 
 But somebody or other rummaging, 
 
 Burglariously broke his coffin's lid : 
 Let not a monument ghe you or me hopes, 
 Since not a pinch of dust remains of Cheops. 
 
 ccxx. 
 
 But 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 unpleasantly, 
 
 " And if you had it o'er again 'twould pass 
 " So thank your stars that matters are no worse, 
 " And read your Bible, sir, and mind your purse." 
 
 CCXXI. 
 
 But for the present, gentle reader ! and 
 
 Still gentler purchaser! the bard that's I 
 
 Must, with permission, shake you by the hand, 
 And so your humble sejwant, and good bye ! 
 
 We meet again, if we should understand 
 Each other; and if not, I shall not try 
 
 Your patience further than by this short sample 
 
 'Twere well if others follovv'd my example.
 
 CANTO i. DON JUAN. 75 
 
 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 Southey's every line ; 
 For God's sake, reader ! take them not for mine.
 
 NOTES TO CANTO I. 
 
 Note 1, page 2, stanza v. 
 Brave men were living before Agamemnon. 
 " Vixere fortes ante Agamemnona." &c. HORACE. 
 
 Note 2, page 6, stanza xvii. 
 Save thine " incomparable Oil," Macassar ! 
 Description des vertus incomparables de 1'huile de Macassar." 
 See the Advertisement. 
 
 Note 3, page 15, stanza xlii. 
 Although Longinus tellsns there is no hymn 
 Where the sublime soars forth on wings more ample. 
 See Longinus, Section 10, " tva. ju.^ ev n Trip} a 
 jTai TraQuv 8e ffuwSof." 
 
 Note 4, page 15, stanza xliv. 
 TJiey only add them all in an appendix. 
 
 Fact. There is, or was, such an adition, with all the obnoxious 
 epigrams of Martial placed by themselves at the end.
 
 78 NOTES TO CANTO I. 
 
 Note 5, page 30, stanza Ixxxyiii. 
 The bard I quote from dries not sing amiss. 
 
 Campbell's Gertrude of Wyoming, (I think) the opening of 
 Canto. II. ; but quote from memory. 
 
 Note 6, page 50, 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 78, stanza ccxvi. 
 My days of lave are over, me no more 
 
 Me nee femina; nee puer 
 Jam, nee spes animi credula mutui, 
 
 Nee certarejuvat mero? 
 Nee vincire novis tempora floribus.
 
 DON JUAN. 
 
 CANTO II.
 
 DON JUAN. 
 
 CANTO II. 
 
 I. 
 
 OH ye ! who teach 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 prove its worth 
 
 A lad of sixteen causing a divorce 
 
 Puzzled his tutors very much, of course. 
 VOL i. G
 
 82 DON JUAN. CANTO II- 
 
 III. 
 
 I can't say that it puzzles me at all, 
 
 If all things be considered : 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, 
 
 Fighting, devotion, dust, perhaps a name. 
 
 V. 
 
 I said, that Juan had been sent to Cadiz 
 
 A pretty town, I recollect it well 
 'Tis 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 IT. DON JUAN. 83 
 
 VJ. 
 
 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 ankles well, 
 Thank heaven I've 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, that 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 plann'd 
 
 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 
 'Twas for a voyage that the young man was meant, 
 
 As ifa Spanish ship were Noah's ark, 
 To wean him from the wickedness of earth, 
 And send him like a dove of promise forth.
 
 84 DON JUAN CANTO n. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Doii Juau bade 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 he 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 way, 
 The wind was fair, the water passing rough; 
 
 A devil of a sea rolls in that bay, 
 As I, who've cross'd it oft, know well enough ; 
 
 A nd, standing upon deck, the dashing spray 
 Flies in one's face, and makes it weather-tough : 
 
 And there he stood to take, and take again, 
 
 His first perhaps his last farewell of Spain. 
 
 3
 
 CANTO ii. DON JUAN. 85 
 
 XII. 
 
 I can't but say it is an awkward sight 
 
 To see one's native land receding 1 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 strain'd, and sailors swore, 
 And the ship creak'd, 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 war ; 
 
 There is a sort of unexprest concern, 
 
 A kind of shock that sets one's heart ajar : 
 
 At leaving even the most unpleasant people 
 
 And places, one keeps .looking at the steeple-
 
 8<> DON JUAN. CANTO ii. 
 
 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 canto. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 And Juan wept, and much he sigh'd 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. 
 
 DON JUAN. 87 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 " Farewell, my Spain ! a long- farewell !" he cried, 
 " Perhaps I may revisit thee no more, 
 
 " But (lie, as many an exiled heart hath died, 
 " Of its own thirst to see again thy shore : 
 
 ' ' Farewell, where Guadalquivir'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 lie 
 
 " 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 woe? 
 
 " (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 curst vessel pitches so) 
 
 " Beloved Julia, hear me still beseeching !" 
 
 (Here he grew inarticulate with retching.)
 
 88 DON JUAN. CANTO n. 
 
 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 was perfect, how else 
 
 Could Juan's passion, while the billows roar, 
 
 Resist his stomach, ne'er at sea before
 
 CANTO ii. DON JUAN. 89 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 The ship, call'd the most holy " Trinidada," 
 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. 
 
 Twas not without some reason, for the wind 
 Increased at night, until it blew a gale ; 
 
 And though 'twas not much to a naval mind, 
 Some landsmen would have look'd a little pale, 
 
 For sailors are, in fact, a different kind : 
 At sunset they began to take in sail, 
 
 For the sky show'd it would come on to blow, 
 
 And carry away, perhaps, a mast or so-
 
 SO DON JUAN- CANTO ii. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 At one o'clock the wind with sudden shift 
 Threw the ship right into the trough of the sea, 
 
 Which struck her aft, aud made an awkward rift, 
 Started the stern-post, also shatter'd the 
 
 Whole of her stern-frame, and ere she could lift 
 Herself from out her present jeopardy 
 
 The rudder tore away : 'twas 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 ofinuslin, 
 
 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, 
 
 But for the pumps : I 'in 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. DON JUAN. yi 
 
 XXX. 
 
 As day advanced the weather seem'd 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 loose, 
 
 A gust which all descriptive power transcends 
 
 Laid with one blast the ship on her beam ends. 
 
 XXXT. 
 
 There she lay, motionless, and seem'd upset ; 
 
 The water left the hold and wash'd 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 talk'd of by the divers 
 And swimmers who may chance to be survivors. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Immediately the masts were cut away, 
 Both main and inizeu; first the mizen went, 
 
 The mainmast follow'd : but the ship still lay 
 Like a mere log, and baffled our intent. 
 
 Foremast 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 the old ship. righted.
 
 92 DON JUAN- CANTO ir. 
 
 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 o'er, might be disposed to riot, 
 
 As upon such occasions tars will ask 
 
 For grog, and sometimes drink rum from the cask. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 There's naught, no doubt, so much the spirit calms 
 
 As rum and true religion ; thus it was, 
 Some plunder'd, some drank spirits, some sung 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 dreadful by his door 
 Of fire than water, spite of oaths and tears, 
 
 Kept still aloof the crew, who, ere they sunk, 
 
 Though it would be becoming to die drunk.
 
 CANTO jr. DON JUAN. 93 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 " Give us more grog," they cried, " for it will be 
 " All one an hour hence." Juan answer'd, " No ! 
 
 " 'Tis 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. 
 
 XXXVITI. 
 
 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 thrumm'd a sail.
 
 Q4 DON JUAN. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 Under the vessel's 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 canvas, what could they expect? 
 But still 'tis best to struggle to the last, 
 
 'Tis never too late to be wholly wreck'd : 
 And though 'tis true that man can only die once, 
 'Tis 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 
 
 Was used nor sail nor shore appcar'd in sight, 
 
 Nought but the heavy sea, and coming night
 
 DON JUAN. 95 
 
 XLII. 
 
 Again the weather threaten'd, again blew 
 
 Agale, 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 sheroll'd, 
 At mercy of the waves, whose mercies are 
 Like human beings during the civil war. 
 
 XL1II. 
 
 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 ;it 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. CANTO 
 
 XLV. 
 
 Some lash'd 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. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 The worst of all was, that in their condition, 
 Having been several days in great distress, 
 Twas difficult to get out such provision 
 
 As now might render their long suffering less : 
 Men, even when dying, dislike inanition j 
 
 Their stock was damaged by the weather's 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 get 
 
 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 a puncheon.
 
 CANTO ii. DON JUAN. 97 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 The other boats, the yawl and pinnace, had 
 Been stove in the beginning of the gale; 
 
 And the long-boat's 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 the ship's rail ; 
 
 And two boats could not hold, far less be stored, 
 
 To save one half the people then on board. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 'Twas twilight, and the sunless day went down 
 Over the waste of waters : like a veil, 
 
 Which, if withdrawn, would but disclose the frown 
 Of one whose hate is mask'd but to assail, 
 
 Thus to their hopeless eyes the night was shewn 
 And grimly darkled o'er their faces pale, 
 
 And the dim desolate deep: twelve days had Fear 
 
 Been their familiar, aud now Death was here. 
 
 L. 
 
 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. I. H
 
 98 DON JUAN. CANTO n. 
 
 LI. 
 
 At balf-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 o'er crowded with their crews ; 
 
 She gave a heel, and then a lurch to port, 
 
 And, going down head foremost sunk, in short. 
 
 L1I. 
 
 Then rose from sea to sky the wild farewell, 
 
 Then shriek'd the timid, and stood still the brave, 
 
 Then some leap'd overboard with dreadful yell, 
 As eager to anticipate their grave ; 
 
 And the sea yawn'd around her like a hell, 
 And down she suck'd with her the whirling wave, 
 
 Like one who grapples with his enemy, 
 
 And strives to strangle him before he die. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 And first one universal shriek there rush'd, 
 
 Louder than the loud ocean like a crash 
 Of echoing thunder ; and then all was hush'd, 
 
 Save the wild wind and the remorseless dash 
 Of billows ; but at intervals there gush'd, 
 
 Accompanied with a convulsive splash, 
 A solitary shriek, the bubbling cry 
 Of some strong swimmer in his agony.
 
 CANTO n. DON JUAN. 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 there 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 perish'd ; 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 won't 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 Pedrillo's pair 
 Of eyes were crying for their owner's case : 
 
 Battista, though, (a name called shortly Tita) 
 
 Was lost by getting at some aqua-vita.
 
 100 DON JUAN. CANTO ii. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 Pedro, his valet, too, he tried to save, 
 But the same cause, conducive to his loss, 
 
 Left him so drunk, he jump'd into the wave 
 As o'er the cutter's edge he tried to cross, 
 
 And so he found a wine-and-vvatery 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 been Don Jose's, 
 His father's, 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 stepp'd 
 
 Off, threw him in, then after him he leap'd. 
 
 L1X. 
 
 He also stufPd his money where he could 
 About his person, and Pedrillo's too, 
 
 Who let him do, in fact, whate'er he would, 
 Not knowing what himself to say, or dc, 
 
 As every rising wave his dread renew'd ; 
 
 But Juan, trusting they might still get through, 
 
 And deeming there were remedies for any ill, 
 
 Thus re-embark'd his tutor and his spaniel.
 
 CANTO 11. 
 
 DON JUAN. 101 
 
 LX. 
 
 'Twas 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 moment's ease, 
 
 So that themselves as well as hopes were damp'd, 
 
 And the poor little cutter quickly swarnp'd. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 Nine souls more went in her: the long-boat still 
 Kept above water, with an oar for mast, 
 
 Two blankets stitch'd together, answering ill 
 Instead of sail, were to the oar made fast: 
 hough every wave roll'd 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 fine, 
 Was all that for the present could be done . 
 
 A few tea-spoonsful of their ruin and wine 
 Were served out to the people, who begun 
 
 To faint, and damaged bread wet through the bags, 
 
 And most of them had little clothes but rags.
 
 102 DON JUAN. CANTO n. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 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 numb'd 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 fill'd their boat, 
 
 With nothing but the sky for a great coat. 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 > 
 Tis 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. 
 
 'Tis said that persons living on annuities 
 Are longer lived than others, God knows why, 
 
 Unless to plague the grantors, yet so true it is, 
 That some, I really think, do never die ; 
 
 Of any cred itors the worst a Jew it is, 
 And that's their mode of furnishing supply : 
 
 In my young days they lent me cash that way, 
 
 Which I found very troublesome to pay.
 
 CANTO II. 
 
 DON JUAN. 103 
 
 LXVI. 
 'Tis 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 hardship still has been the sailor's lot, 
 
 Since Noah's 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 1 way, 
 
 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, 
 Lull'd 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. CANTO n. 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 The consequence was easily forseen 
 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'd like an unwean'd 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 had had a pair) 
 What could they do ? and hunger's rage grew wild : 
 
 So Juan's spaniel, spite of his entreating, 
 
 Was kill'd, and portion'd out for present eating. 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 On the sixth day they fed upon his hide, 
 And Juan, who had still refused, because 
 
 The creature 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 fore-paws, 
 
 Which he divided with Pedrillo, who 
 
 Devour'd it, longing for the other too.
 
 CANTO ii. DON JUAN. 105 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 The seventh day, and no wind the burning sun 
 Blister'd and scorch'd, and, stagnant on the sea, 
 
 They lay like carcases ; 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'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 comrade's thought each sufferer knew, 
 'Twas but his own, suppress'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 remain'd of shoes ; 
 
 And then they look'd around them, and despaired, 
 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 Julia's letter.
 
 106 DON JUAN. CANTO ii. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 The lots were made, and mark'd, and mix'd, and handed, 
 
 In silent horrror, and their distribution 
 Lull'd even the savage hunger which demanded, 
 
 Like the Promethean vulture, this pollution ; 
 None in particular had sought or plann'd it, 
 
 'Twas 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. 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 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, part thrown in the sea, 
 
 And such things as the entrails and the brains 
 
 Regaled two sharks, who follow'd o'er the billow 
 
 The sailors ate the rest of poor Pedrillo.
 
 CANTO ii. DON JUAN. 10? 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 The sailors ate him, all save three or four, 
 Who were not quite so fond of animal food; 
 
 To these was added Juan, who, before 
 Refusing his own spaniel, hardly could 
 
 Feel now his appetite increased much more; 
 'Twas not to be expected that he should, 
 
 Even in extremity of their disaster, 
 
 Dine with them on his pastor and his master. 
 
 LXXIX. 
 'Twas 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 hysena laughter, died despairing. 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 Their numbers were much thinn'd 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 warn'd sufficiently by those 
 
 Who had already perish'd, suffering madly, 
 
 For having used their appetites so sadly.
 
 108 DON JUAN. CANTO n. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 And next they thought upon the master's mate, 
 As fattest ; but he saved himself, because, 
 
 Besides being much 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 constraint, 
 Or but at times a little supper made j 
 
 All except Juan, who throughout abstain'd, 
 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 eat the head of his arch-enemy 
 
 The moment after he politely ends 
 His tale; if foes be food in hell, at sea 
 
 'Tis surely fair to dine upon our friends, 
 When shipwreck's short allowance grows too scanty^ 
 Without being much more horrible than Dante-
 
 CANTO n. DON JUAN. 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 farnish'd boat's-crew had your birth, 
 
 Or in the desert heard the camel's 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 deem'd 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, 
 Suck'd 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, \vho could not rain back 
 A drop of dew, when every drop had seem'd 
 
 To taste of heaven if this be true, indeed, 
 
 Some Christians have a comfortable creed.
 
 1 10 DON JUAN. CANTO n. 
 
 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 be done ! 
 
 " I can do nothing," and he saw him thrown 
 
 Into the deep without a tear or groan. 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 The other father had a weaklier child, 
 
 Of a soft cheek, and aspect delicate ; 
 But the boy 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 father's 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 wish'd-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, 
 
 He squeezed from out a rag some drops of rain 
 
 Into his dying child's mouth but in vain.
 
 CANTO ii. DON JUAN. Ill 
 
 XC. 
 
 The boy expired the father held the clay, 
 And look'd 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 'd it wistfully, until away 
 'Twas borne by the rude wave wherein 'twas cast ; 
 
 Then he himself sunk down all dumb and shivering', 
 
 And gave no signs 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 appear'd 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 shipwreck'd men. 
 
 XCII. 
 
 It changed, of course ; a heavenly cameleon, 
 
 The airy child of vapour and the sun, 
 Brought forth in purple, cradled in vermillion, 
 
 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, 
 (For sometimes we must box without the muffle.)
 
 112 DON JUAN- 
 
 XCIII. 
 
 Our shipwreck'd seamen thought it a good omen- 
 It is as well to think so, now and then ; 
 
 'Twas 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) pass'd 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'd round them till 
 
 Night fell : this seem'd a better omen still. 
 
 xcv. 
 
 But in this case I also must remark, 
 'Twas 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 had it been the dove from Noah's ark, 
 Returning there from her successful search, 
 
 Which in their way that moment chanced to fall, 
 
 They would have eat her, olive-branch and all.
 
 CANTO ii. DON JUAN. 113 
 
 XCVI. 
 
 With twilight it again came on to blow, 
 But not with violence ; the stars shone out, 
 
 The boat made way ; yet now they \vere so low, 
 They knew not where nor what they were about ; 
 
 Some fancied they saw land, and some said " No!" 
 The frequent fog-banks gave them cause to doubt 
 
 Some swore that they heard breakers, others guns, 
 
 And all mistook about the latter once. 
 
 XCVII. 
 
 As morning broke the light wind died away, 
 When he who had the watch sung out and swore, 
 
 If 'twas not land that rose with the sun's ray 
 He wish'd that land he never might see more ; 
 
 And the rest rubb'd their eyes, and saw a bay, 
 Or thought they saw; and shaped their course for shore ; 
 
 For shore it was, and gradually grew 
 
 Distinct, and high, and palpable to view. 
 
 xcvin. 
 
 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 a few pray'd (the first time for some years) 
 
 And at the bottom of the boat three were 
 Asleep ; they shook them by the hand and head, 
 And tried to awaken them, but found (hem dead, 
 VOL r.
 
 114 DON JUAN. 
 
 XCIX. 
 
 The day before, fast sleeping on the water, 
 They found a turtle of the hawk's-bill kind, 
 
 And by good fortune gliding softly, caught her, 
 Which yielded a day's 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 sent them this for their deliverance. 
 
 * < 
 C. 
 
 The land appear'd a high and rocky coast, 
 And higher grew the mountains as they drew, 
 
 Set by a current, toward it ; they were lost 
 In various conjectures, for none knew 
 
 To what part of the earth they had been tost, 
 So changeable had been the winds that blew ; 
 
 Some thought it was Mount JEtna, some the highlands 
 
 Of Candia, Cyprus, Rhodes, or other islands. 
 
 CI. 
 
 Meantime the current, with a rising gale, 
 Still set them onwards to the welcome shore, 
 
 Like Charon's bark 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 followM them, and dash'd 
 
 The spray into their faces as they splash'd.
 
 CANTO ii. DON JUAN. 115 
 
 GIL 
 
 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 gaunt 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. 
 
 CHI. 
 
 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 look'd wild, without a trace of man, 
 And girt by formidable waves ; but they 
 
 Were mad for land, and thus their course they ran, 
 Though right ahead the roaring breakers lay: 
 
 A reef between them also now began 
 To show its boiling surf and bounding spray, 
 
 But finding no place for their landing better, 
 
 Thev ran the boat for shore, and overset her.
 
 116 DON JUAN. CANTO n. 
 
 CV. 
 
 But in his native stream, the Guadalquivir, 
 Juan to lave his youthful limbs was wont ; 
 
 And having learnt 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 pass'd 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. 
 
 CVII. 
 
 Nor yet had he arrived but for the oar, 
 Which, providentially for him, was wash'd 
 
 Just as his feeble arms could strike no more, 
 
 And the hard wave o'erwhelm'd him as 'twas 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 
 
 Roll'd on the beach, half senseless, from the sea :
 
 CANTO ii. DON JUAN. 
 
 CV1II. 
 
 There, breathless, with his digging nails he 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 deem that it was saved, perhaps, in vain- 
 
 CIX. 
 
 With]slow and staggering effort he arose, 
 But sunk again upon his bleeding knee 
 
 And quivering hand ; and then he look'd for those 
 Who long had been his mates upon the sea, 
 
 But none of them appear'd to share his woes, 
 Save one, a corpse from out the famish'd 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 pass'd ; 
 He fell upon his side, and his stretch'd hand 
 
 Droop'd dripping on the oar (their jury-mast), 
 And, like a wither'd lily, on the land 
 
 His slender frame and pallid aspect lay, 
 
 As fair a thing as e'er was form'd of clay.
 
 JJ8 DON JUAN. CANTO ii. 
 
 CXI. 
 
 How long in this damp trance young Juan lay 
 He 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 pass'd away 
 He knew not, till each painful pulse and limb, 
 
 And tingling vein, seem'd throbbing back to life, 
 
 For Death, though vanquished, still retired with strife. 
 
 CXII. 
 
 His eyes he opeu'd, shut, again unclosed, 
 For all was doubt and dizziness ; methought 
 
 He still was in the boat, and had but dozed, 
 And felt again with his despair o'erwrought, 
 
 And wish'd it death in which he had reposed, 
 
 And then once more his feelings back were brought, 
 
 And slowly by his swimming eyes was seen 
 
 A lovely female face of seventeen. 
 
 CXIII. 
 
 'Twas bending close o'er his, and the small mouth 
 Seem'd almost prying into his for breath ; 
 
 And chafing him, the soft warm hand of youth 
 RecalPd 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 thess kind efforts made a low reply.
 
 CANTO ii. DON JUAN. 119 
 
 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 drench'd by every storm ; 
 And watch'd with eagerness each throb that drew, 
 A sigh from his heaved bosom and hers, too. 
 
 cxv. 
 
 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. 
 
 CXVI. 
 
 Her brow was overhung with coins of gold, 
 That sparkled o'er the auburn of her hair, 
 
 Her clustering hair, whose longer locks were roll'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.
 
 120 DON JUAN. 
 
 CXVII. 
 
 Her hair, 1 said, was auburn j 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 flies, 
 Ne'er with such force the swiftest arrow flew ; 
 
 'Tis as the snake late coil'd, who pours his length, 
 
 And hurls at once his venom and his strength. 
 
 CXVIII. 
 
 Her brow was white and low, her cheek's pure dye 
 Like 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 
 
 I've seen much finer women, ripe and real, 
 
 Than all the nonsense of their stone ideal.) 
 
 CXIX. 
 I'll tell you why I say so, for 'tis just 
 
 One should not rail without a decent cause : 
 There was an Irish lady, to whose bust 
 
 I ne'er saw justice done, and yet she was 
 A frequent model ^ and if e'er she must 
 
 Yield to stern Time and Nature's wrinkling laws, 
 They will destroy a face which mortal thought 
 Ne'er compass'd, nor less mortal chisel wrought.
 
 CANTO ii. DON JUAN. 121 
 
 CXX. 
 
 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 basquina and the mantilla, they 
 
 Seem at the same time mystical and gay. 
 
 CXXI. 
 
 But with our damsel this was not the case : 
 
 Her dress was many-colour'd, finely spun ; 
 Her locks curl'd negligently round her face, 
 
 But through them gold and gems profusely shone; 
 Her girdle sparkled, and the richest lace 
 
 Flow'd 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. 
 
 CXXII. 
 
 The other female's 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 free ; 
 Her hair was thicker, but less long , her eyes 
 Ts black, but quicker, and of smaller size.
 
 122 DON JUAN. CANTO H. 
 
 CXXIII. 
 
 And these two tended him, and cheer'd 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 cook'd since Homer's 
 
 Achilles orderM dinner for new comers. 
 
 CXXIV.' 
 
 I'll tell you who they were, this female pair, 
 Lest they should seem princesses in disguise : 
 
 Besides, I hate all mystery, and that air 
 Of 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. 
 
 cxxv. 
 
 A fisherman he had been in his youth, 
 
 And still a sort of fisherman was he ; 
 But other speculations were, in sooth, 
 
 Added to his connexion with the sea 
 Perhaps not so respectable, in truth : 
 
 A little smuggling, and some piracy, 
 Left him, at last, the sole of many masters 
 Of an ill-gotten million of piastres.
 
 CANTO ii. DON JUAN. 123 
 
 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 be 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. 
 
 CXXV1II. 
 
 He had an only daughter, call'd 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 whiles 
 
 Rejected several suitors, just to learn 
 
 How to accept a better in his turn.
 
 124 DON JUAN. CANTO ii. 
 
 CXXIX. 
 
 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 famish'd, and half drown'd ; 
 
 But being naked, she was shock'd, you know, 
 Yet deem'd herself in common pity bound, 
 
 As far as in her lay, " to take him in, 
 
 A stranger" dying, with so white a skin. 
 
 cxxx. 
 
 But taking him into her father's house 
 Was not exactly the best way to save, 
 
 But like conveying to the cat the mouse, 
 Or people in a trance into their grave ; 
 
 Because the good old man had so much " <>s," 
 Unlike the honest Arab thieves so brave, 
 
 He would have hospitably cured the stranger, 
 
 And sold him instantly when out of danger. 
 
 CXXXI. 
 
 And therefore, with her maid, she thought it best 
 (A virgin always on her maid relies) 
 
 To place him in the cave for present rest ; 
 And when, at last, he open'd his black eyes, 
 
 Their charity increased about their guest ; 
 And their compassion grew to such a size, 
 
 It open'd half the turnpike-gates to heaven 
 
 (St. Paul says 'tis the toll which must be given.)
 
 CANTO II. 
 
 DON JUAN. 125 
 
 CXXXII. 
 
 They made a fire, but such a fire as they 
 Upon 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 God's grace, here wrecks were in such plenty, 
 
 That there was fuel to have furnish'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 apiece, 
 
 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. 
 
 CXXX1V. 
 
 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 lull'd head 
 Not even a vision of his former woes 
 
 Throbb'd in accursed dreams, which sometimes spread 
 Unwelcome visions of our former years, 
 Till the cyr\ cheated, opens thick with tears.
 
 DON JUAN. 
 
 cxxxv. 
 
 Young Juan slept all dreamless : but the maid, 
 Who smooth'd his pillow, as she left the den 
 
 Look'd back upon him, and a moment staid, 
 And turn'd, believing that he call'd again, 
 
 He slumber'd ; 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. 
 
 CXXXVJ. 
 
 And pensive to her father's 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 sort of knowledge 
 
 Which is acquired in nature's good old college. 
 
 CXXXVII. 
 
 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 the excluded sun, 
 
 Troubled him not, and he might sleep his fill ; 
 And need he had of slumber yet, for none 
 
 Had suffer'd more his hardships were comparative 
 
 To those related in my grand-dad's Narrative.
 
 CANTO ii. DON JUAN. 127 
 
 CXXXVIII. 
 
 Not so Haidee ; she sadly toss'd and tumbled, 
 And started from her sleep, and, turning 1 o'er, 
 
 Dream'd of a thousand wrecks, o'er which she stumbled, 
 And handsome corpses strew'd upon the shore ; 
 
 And woke her maid so early that she grumbled, 
 And call'd 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. 
 
 CXXX1X. 
 
 But up she got, and up she made them get, 
 With some pretence about the sun, that makes 
 
 Sweet skies just when he rises, or is set; 
 
 And 'tis, 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 date 
 
 From day-dreak, and when coffin'd at fourscore, 
 
 Engrave upon the plate, you rose at four.
 
 128 DON JUAN. CANTO n. 
 
 CXLI. 
 
 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 river's rush, 
 Checks to a lake, whose waves in circles spread ; 
 Or the Red Sea but the sea is not red, 
 
 CXLII. 
 
 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 kiss'd her lips with dew, 
 
 Taking her for a sister; just the same 
 Mistake you would have made on seeing the two, 
 
 Although the mortul, quite as fresh and fair, 
 
 Had all the advantage too of not being air. 
 
 CXLIII. 
 
 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 tiptoe crept 
 
 And wrapt him closer, lest the air, too raw, 
 Shcmld reach his blood, then o'er him still as death 
 Bent, with hush'dlips, that drank his scarce-drawn breath.
 
 CANTO ii. DON JUAN. 
 
 CXLIV. 
 
 And thus like to an angel o'er the dying 
 
 Who die in righteousness, she lean'd ; and there 
 
 All tranquilly the shipwreck'd 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. 
 
 CXLV. 
 
 She knew that the best feelings must have victual, 
 And that a shipwreck'd 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 ; 
 I can't 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. 
 
 CXLV1. 
 
 And Zoe, when the eggs were ready, and 
 The coffee made, would fain have wakcn'd Juan; 
 
 But Haidee 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 spoilt, prepared a new one, 
 
 Because her mistress would not let her break 
 
 That sleep which scem'd as it would n'er awake. 
 vor,. i. K
 
 130 DON JUAN. CANTO n. 
 
 CXLV1I. 
 
 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 weigh'd upon them yet, all damp and salt, 
 Mix'd with the stony vapours of the vault. 
 
 CXLVHI. 
 
 And she bent o'er him, and he lay beneath 
 Hush'd as the babe upon its mother's breast, 
 
 Droop'd as the willow when no winds can breathe, 
 Lull'd 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 turn'd 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 form'd in vain 
 For Juan, so that even when he pray'd 
 
 He turn'd from grisly saints, and martyrs hairy, 
 
 To the sweet portraits of the Virgin Mary.
 
 CANTO ii. DON JUAN. 131 
 
 CL. 
 
 And thus upon his elbow he arose, 
 And look'd 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. 
 
 CLI. 
 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; 
 At least it is a heavy sound to me, 
 
 Who like a morning slumber for the night 
 
 Shows stars and women in a better light-
 
 132 DON JUAN. CANTO II. 
 
 CLIII. 
 
 And Juan, too, was help'd 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; 
 
 Goat's 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 can't 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 battle.
 
 CANTO ii. DON JUAN. 133 
 
 CLVI. 
 
 For we all know that English people are 
 Fed upon beef I wont say much of beer, 
 
 Because 'tis liquor only, and being far 
 
 From this my subject, has no business here ; 
 
 We know, too, they are very fond of war, 
 A pleasure like all pleasures rather clear; 
 
 So were the Cretans from which I infer 
 
 That beef and battles both were owing to her. 
 
 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 famish'd vulture gnaw, 
 He fell upon whale 'cr was offer'd, like 
 A priest, a shark, an alderman, or pike- 
 
 CLVIIL 
 
 He ate, and he was well supplied; and she, 
 
 Who watch'd him like a mother, would have fed 
 
 Him past all bounds, because she smiled to see 
 Such appetite in one she had deem'd dead : 
 
 But Zoe, being older than Haidee, 
 
 Knew (by tradition, for she ne'er had read) 
 
 That famish'd people must be slowly nurst, 
 
 And fed by spoonsful, else they always burst.
 
 134 DON 7 JUAN CANTO 11. 
 
 CL1X. 
 
 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'd it, and refused another morsel, 
 
 Saying, he had gorged enough to make a horse ill. 
 
 CLX. 
 
 Next they he being naked, save a tatter'd 
 Pair of scarce decent trowsers went to work, 
 
 And in the fire his recent rags they scatter'd, 
 And dress'd him, for the present, like a Turk, 
 
 Or Greek that is, although it not much mattered, 
 
 Omitting turban, slippers, pistols, dirk, 
 They furnish 'd him, entire except some stitches, 
 
 With a clean shirt, and very spacious breeches. 
 
 CLXI. 
 
 And then fair Haidee tried her tongue at speaking, 
 But not a word could Juan comprehend, 
 
 Although he listen'd so that the young Greek in 
 Her earnestness would ne'er have made an end ; 
 
 And, as he interrupted not, went eking 
 Her speech out to her protege and friend, 
 
 Till pausing at the last her breath to take, 
 
 She saw he did not understand Romaic.
 
 CANTO ii. DON JUAN. 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 exprest 
 
 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 learn'd his alpha beta better 
 From Haidee's glance than any graven letter. 
 
 CLXIV. 
 
 'Tis 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 have been : 
 
 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 learn'd the little that 1 know by this .-
 
 DON JUAN CANTO 1 1 
 
 CLXV. 
 
 That is, soinc 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 iny day," 
 Like other men too, may have had my passion 
 
 But that, like other things, has pass'd away, 
 And all her fools whom I couldl&y the lash on 
 
 Foes, friends, men, women, now are nought to me 
 
 But dreams of what has been, no more to be. 
 
 CLXVIL 
 
 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 see.
 
 CANTO ii. DON JUAN. 137 
 
 CLXVIII. 
 
 And every day by day-break rather early 
 For Juan, who was somewhat fond of res t 
 
 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 1 her yet slumbering guest, 
 
 Breathing all gently o'er his cheek aud mouth, 
 
 As o'er a bed of roses the sweet south, 
 
 CLX1X. 
 
 And every morn his colour freshlier came, 
 And every day help'd on his convalescence; 
 
 'Twas well, because health in the human frame 
 Is pleasant, besides being true love's essence, 
 
 For health and idleness to passion's flame 
 Are oil and gunpowder $ and some good lessons 
 
 Are also learnt 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. CANTO n. 
 
 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 maid's, 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. 
 
 CLXXII. 
 
 Both were so young, and one so innocent, 
 That bathing pass'd for nothing ; Juan seem'd 
 
 To her, as 'twere, the kind of being sent, 
 Of whom these two years she had nightly dream M, 
 
 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. 
 
 CLXXIII. 
 
 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, cast 
 Like a rich wreck her first love, and her last.
 
 CANTO 11. DON JUAN. 
 
 CLXXIV. 
 
 And thus a moon roll'd on, and fair Haidee 
 
 Paid daily visits to her boy, 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 lo, 
 But three Ragusan vessels, bound for Scio. 
 
 CLXXV. 
 
 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 freely pass, 
 
 Without even the incumbrance of a brother, 
 The freest she that ever gazed on glass : 
 
 1 speak of Christian lands in this'comparison, 
 
 Where wives, at least, are seldom kept in garrison. 
 
 CLXXVI. 
 
 Now she prolong'd 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, 
 
 <\nd thus they walk'd out in the afternoon, 
 
 And saw the sun set opposite the moon.
 
 HO DON JUAN. CANTO ii. 
 
 CLXXVII. 
 
 It was a wild and breaker-beaten coast,. 
 
 With cliffs above, and a broad sandy shore, 
 Guarded by shoals and rocks as by an host, 
 
 With here and there a creek, whose aspect wore 
 A better welcome to the tempest-tost; 
 
 And rarely ceased the haughty billow's roar, 
 Save on the dead long summer days, which make 
 The outstretch'd ocean glitter like a lake.. 
 
 CLXXVIII. 
 And the small ripple spilt upon the beach 
 
 Scarcely o'erpass'd the cream of your champaigue, 
 When o'er the brim the sparkling bumpers reach, 
 
 That spring-dew of the spirit ! the heart's rain ! 
 Few things surpass old wine ; and they may preach 
 
 Who please, the more because they preach in vain, 
 Let us have wine and woman, mirth and laughter, 
 Sermons and soda water the day after. 
 
 CLXXIX. 
 
 Man, being reasonable, must get drunk ; 
 
 The best of life is but intoxication : 
 Glory, 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 
 
 Of life's strange tree, so fruitful on occasion : 
 But to return, Get very drunk ; and when 
 You wake with head-ache, you shall see what then.
 
 CANTO ii. DON JUAN. 
 
 CLXXX. 
 
 Ring for your valet bid him quickly bring 
 Some hock and soda-water, then you'll know 
 
 A pleasure worthy Xerxes the great king : 
 
 For not the blest sherbet, sublimed with snow, 
 
 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 was the coast 
 
 Lay at this period quiet as the sky, 
 
 The sands untumbled, the blue waves untost, 
 
 And all was stillness, save the sea-bird's cry, 
 And dolphin's leap, and little billows crost 
 
 By some low rock or shelve, that made it fret 
 
 Against the boundary it scarcely wet. 
 
 CLXXXII. 
 
 And forth they wanderM, 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.
 
 142 DON JUAN. CANTO n. 
 
 CLXXX1H. 
 
 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, hush'd, 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 wanderM forth, and hand in hand, 
 Over the shining pebbles and the shells, 
 
 Glided along the smooth and harden'd sand, 
 And in the worn and wild receptacles 
 
 Work'd by the storms, yet work'd as it were plann'd, 
 In hollow halls, with sparry roofs and cells, 
 
 They turn'd to rest ; and, each clasp'd by an arm, 
 
 Yielded to the deep twilight's 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 wave's splash, and the wind so low, 
 And saw each other's dark eyes darting light 
 
 Into each other and, beholding this, 
 
 Their lips drew near, and clung into a kiss ;
 
 CANTO n. DON JUAN. 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 blood's 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 beckon'd, 
 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 other life beneath the sky 
 Save theirs, and that their life could never die,
 
 144 DON JUAN. CANTO ii 
 
 CLXXXIX. 
 
 They fear'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 nature's oracle first love, that all 
 
 Which Eve has left her daughters since her fall. 
 
 cxc. 
 
 Haidee spoke not of scruples, ask'd no vows, 
 Nor offer 1 A any ; she had never heard 
 
 Of plight and promises to be a spouse, 
 Or perils by a loving maid incurrM ; 
 
 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. 
 
 CXCL 
 
 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 that passion, 
 
 But by degrees their senses were restored, 
 Again to be o'ercome, again to dash on ; 
 
 And, beating 'gainst his bosom, Haidee's heart 
 
 Felt as if never more to beat apart.
 
 CANTO IT. DON JUAN. 145 
 
 CXCII. 
 
 Alas ! they were so young, so beautiful, 
 So lonely, loving, helpless, and the hour 
 
 Was that in which the hearts is always full, 
 
 And, having o'er itself no further power, 
 
 Prompts deeds eternity cannot 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 damn'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. i. L
 
 !46 DON JUAN. CANTO II. 
 
 CXCV. 
 
 And when those deep and burning moments pass'd, 
 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 o'erflowing heart, which pants 
 
 With all it granted, and with all it grants. 
 
 CXCVI. 
 
 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. 
 
 CXCV1I. 
 
 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 'tis giving; 
 
 All it hath felt, inflicted, pass'd, and proved, 
 Hush'd into depths beyond the watcher's diving; 
 
 There lies the thing we love with all its errors 
 
 And all its charms, like death wiihout its terrors.
 
 CANTO ii. DON JUAN. 147 
 
 CXCVIII. 
 
 The lady watch'd her lover and that hour 
 Of Love's, and Night's, and Ocean's solitude, 
 
 O'erflow'd her soul with their united power j 
 Amidst the barren sand and rocks so rude 
 
 She and her wave-worn love had made their bower, 
 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 'tis lost, life hath no more to bring- 
 To them but mockeries of the past alone, 
 
 And their revenge is as the tiger's spring, 
 Deadly, and quick, and crashing ; yet, as real 
 Torture is theirs, what they inflict they feel. 
 
 CO. 
 They are right! for man, to man so oft unjust, 
 
 Is always so to women ; one sole bond 
 Awaits them, treachery is all their 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.
 
 148 DON JUAN. CANTO n 
 
 CCI. 
 
 Some take-a lover, some take drams or prayers, 
 Some mind their household, others dissipation, 
 
 Some run away, and but exchange their cares, 
 Losing the advantage of a virtuous station ; 
 
 Few changes e'er can better their affairs, 
 Theirs being an unnatural situation, 
 
 From the dull palace to the dirty hovel : 
 
 Some play the devil, and then write a novel. 
 
 ecu. 
 
 Haidee was Nature's bride, and knew not this ; 
 
 Haidee was Passion's 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 the heart, that beat 1 
 How much it costs us ! yet each rising throb 
 
 Is 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 I wonder Castlereagh don't tax 'em.
 
 DON JUAN. 140 
 
 CCIV. 
 
 And now 'twas 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. 
 
 CCV. 
 
 Oh Love ! of whom great Ceesar 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 1 ) 
 Oh Love ! thou art the very god of evil, 
 For, after all, we cannot call thee devil. 
 
 CCVI. 
 
 Thou mak'st the chaste connubial state precarious, 
 And jestest with the brows of mightiest men : 
 
 Caesar and Pompey, Mahomet, Belisarius, 
 Have much employ'd the rnuse 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.
 
 DON JUAN. CANTO n. 
 
 CCVII. 
 
 Thou mak'st philosophers ; there 's Epicurus 
 
 And Aristippus, a material crew! 
 Who to immoral courses would allure us 
 
 By theories quite practicable too ; 
 If 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. 
 
 CCVIII. 
 
 But Juan ! had he quite forgotten Julia? 
 
 And should he have forgotten her so soon ? 
 I can't 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 
 
 Strong palpitation rises, 'tis her boon, 
 Else how the devil is it that fresh features 
 Have such a charm for us poor human creatures? 
 
 CCIX. 
 
 I hate inconstancy I loathe, detest, 
 Abhor, condemn, abjure, the mortal made 
 
 Of such quicksilver clay that in his breast 
 No permanent foundation can be laid; 
 
 Love, constant love, has been my constant guest, 
 And yet last night being at a masquerade, 
 
 I saw the prettiest creature, fresh from Milan, 
 
 Which gave me some sensations like a villain-
 
 CANTO II. 
 
 DON JUAN. 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 stopp'd. But to return : that which 
 
 Men call inconstancy is nothing more 
 Than admiration due where nature's rich 
 
 Profusion with young beauty covers o'er 
 Some favour'd object ; and 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." 
 
 CCXII. 
 'Tis the perception of the beautiful, 
 
 A fine extension of the faculties 
 Platonic, universal, wonderful. 
 
 Drawn from the stars, and filterM 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.
 
 152 DON JUAN. CANTO u. 
 
 CCXIII. 
 
 Yet 'tis a painful feeling, and unwilling, 
 
 For surely if we always could perceive 
 In the same object graces quite as killing 
 
 As when she rose upon us like an Eve, 
 'Twould 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. 
 
 CCXIV. 
 
 The heart is like the sky, apart of heaven, 
 But changes night and day too, like the sky; 
 
 Now o'er it clouds and thunder must be driven, 
 And darkness and destruction as on high : 
 
 But when it hath been scorch'd, and pierced, and riven. 
 Its storms expire in water drops ; the eye 
 
 Pours forth at last the heart's blood tum'd to tears, 
 
 Which makes the English climate of our years. 
 
 ccxv. 
 
 The liver is the lazaret of bile, 
 
 But 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 fire call'd "central."
 
 CANTO ii. DON JUAN. 153 
 
 CCXVI. 
 
 In the mean time, without proceeding more 
 In this anatomy, I've finish'd now 
 
 Two hundred and odd stanzas as before, 
 That being about the number I'll allow 
 
 Each canto of the twelve or twenty-four; 
 And, laying down my pen, I make my bow, 
 
 Leaving Don Juan and Haidee to plead 
 
 For them and theirs with all who deign to read.
 
 DON JUAN. 
 
 CANTO HI.
 
 DON JUAN. 
 
 CANTO III. 
 
 I. 
 
 HAIL, Muse! ct cetera. We left Juan sleeping, 
 
 Pillow'd upon a fair and happy breast, 
 And watch'd 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 soil'd the current of her sinless years, 
 And turu'd her pure heart's purest blood to tears. 
 
 II. 
 
 Oh, Love ! what is it in this world of ours 
 
 Which makes it fatal to be loved ? Ah why 
 With 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.
 
 158 DON JUAN. CANTO HI. 
 
 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 men's 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 wholly granted ; 
 Yet there are some, they say, who have had none 
 But those who have ne'er end with only one. 
 
 V. 
 'Tis melancholy, and a fearful sign 
 
 Of human frailty, folly, also crime, 
 That love and marriage rarely can combine, 
 
 Although they both are born in the same clime ; 
 Marriage from love, like vinegar from wine 
 
 A sad, sour, sober beverage by time 
 Is sharpen'd from its high celestial flavour 
 Down to a very homely household savour.
 
 CANTO ii. DON JUAN. 159 
 
 VI. 
 
 There's something of antipathy, as 'twere, 
 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 'tis " 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 : 
 
 For 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 sonnets all his life ?
 
 160 DON JUAN. CANTO in. 
 
 IX. 
 
 All tragedies are flnish'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 
 
 The worlds to come of both, or fall beneath, 
 And then both worlds would punish their miscarriage 
 
 So leaving each their priest and prayer-book ready, 
 
 They say no more of Death or of the Lady. 
 
 X. 
 
 The only two that in my recollection 
 
 Have sung of heaven and hell, or marriage, are 
 
 Dante and Milton, and of both the affection 
 Was hapless in their nuptials, for some bar 
 
 Of fault or temper ruin'd the connexion 
 
 (Such things, in fact, it don't ask much to mar); 
 
 But Dante's Beatrice and Milton's Eve 
 
 Were not drawn from their spouses, you conceive. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Some persons say that Dante meant theology 
 
 By Beatrice, and not a mistress I, 
 Although my opinion may require apology, 
 
 Deem this a commentator's phantasy, 
 Unless indeed it was from his own knowledge he 
 
 Decided thus, and show'd good reason why ; 
 I think that Dante's more abstruce ecstatics 
 Meant to personify the mathematics.
 
 CANTO in. DON JUAN. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Haidee and Juan were not married, but 
 
 The fault was theirs, not mine : it is not fair, 
 
 Chaste reader, then, in any way to put 
 The blame on me, unless you wisli they were ; 
 
 Then if you'd have them wedded, please to shut 
 The book which treats of this erroneous pair, 
 
 Before the consequences grow too awful ; 
 
 'Tis dangerous to read of loves unlawful. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Yet they were happy, happy in the illicit 
 Indulgence of their innocent desires; 
 
 But more imprudent grown with every visit, 
 Haidee forgot the island was her sire's ; 
 
 When we have what we like, 'tis hard to miss it, 
 At least in the beginning, ere one tires ; 
 
 Thus she came often, not a moment losing, 
 
 Whilst her piratical papa was cruising. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Let not his mode of raising cash seem strange, 
 Although he fleeced the flags of every nation, 
 
 For into a prime minister but change 
 His title, and 'tis nothing but taxation ; 
 
 But lie, more modest, took an humbler range 
 Of life, and in an hoiiester vocation 
 
 Pursued o'er the high seas his watery journey, 
 
 And merely practised as a sea-attorney.
 
 DON JUAN. CANTO in. 
 
 XV. 
 
 The good old gentleman had been detain'd 
 
 By winds and waves, and some important captures ; 
 
 And, in the hope of more, at sea remain'd, 
 
 Although a squall or two had damp'd his raptures, 
 
 By swamping one of the prizes ; he had chain'd 
 His prisoners, dividing them like chapters 
 
 In number'd lots; they all had cuffs and collars, 
 
 And averaged each from ten to a hundred dollars. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Some he disposed of off Cape Matapan , 
 Among his friends the Mainots; some he sold 
 
 To his Tunis correspondents, save one man 
 Toss'd overboard unsaleable (being old); 
 
 The rest save here and there some richer one, 
 Reserved for future ransom in the hold, 
 
 Were link'd alike, as for the common people he 
 
 Had a large order from the Dey of Tripoli. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 The merchandise was served in the same way, 
 Pieced out for different marts in the Levant, 
 
 Except some certain portions of the prey, 
 Light classic articles of female want, 
 
 French stuffs, lace, tweezers, toothpicks, teapot tray, 
 Guitars and castanets from Alicant, 
 
 All which selected from the spoil he gathers, 
 
 Robb'd for his daughter by the best of fathers.
 
 CANTO in. DON JUAN. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 A monkey, a Dutch mastiff, a mackaw, 
 Two parrots, with a Persian cat and kittens, 
 
 He chose from several animals he saw 
 A terrier, too, which once had been a Briton's, 
 
 Who dying on the coast of Ithaca, 
 The peasants gave the poor dumb thing a pittance ; 
 
 The&e to secure in this strong blowing weather, 
 
 He caged in one huge hamper altogether. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Then having settled his marine affairs, 
 
 Despatching single cruisers here and there, 
 
 His vessel having need of some repairs, 
 
 He shaped his course to where his daughter fair 
 
 Continued still her hospitable cares; 
 But that part of the coast being shoal and bare, 
 
 And rough with reefs which ran out many a mile ; 
 
 His port lay on the other side o' the isle. 
 
 XX. 
 
 And there he went ashore without delay, 
 Having no custom-house or quarantine 
 
 To ask him awkward questions on the way 
 About the time and place where he had been : 
 
 He left his ship to be hove down next day, 
 With orders to the people to careen ; 
 
 So that all hands were busy beyond measure, 
 
 In getting out goods, ballast, guns, and treasure.
 
 ) 6* DON JUAN. CANTO in- 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Arriving at the summit of a hill 
 
 Which overlook'd the white walls of his home, 
 He stopp'd. What singular emotions fill 
 
 Their bosoms who have been induced to roam ! 
 With fluttering 1 doubts if all be well or ill 
 
 With love for many, and with fears for some; 
 All feelings which o'erleap the years long lost, 
 And bring our hearts back to their starting-post. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 The approach of home to husbands and to sires, 
 After long travelling by land or water, 
 
 Most naturally some small doubt inspires 
 A female family's a serious matter; 
 
 (None trusts the sex more, or so much admires 
 But they hate flattery, so I never flatter ;) 
 
 Wives in their husbands' absences grow subtler, 
 
 And daughters sometimes run off with the butler. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 An honest gentleman at his return 
 May not have the good fortune of Ulysses ; 
 
 Not all lone matrons for their husbands mourn, 
 Or show the same dislike to suitors' kisses ; 
 
 The odds are that he finds a handsome urn 
 To his memory, and two or three young misses 
 
 Born to some friend, who holds his wife and riches 
 
 And that his Argus bites him by the breeches.
 
 CANTO in. DON JUAN. 165 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 If single, probably his plighted fair 
 Has in his absence wedded some rich miser; 
 
 But all the better, for the happy pair 
 
 May quarrel, and the lady growing wiser, 
 
 He may resume his amatory care 
 As cavalier servente, or despise her; 
 
 And that his sorrow may not be a dumb one, 
 
 Write odes on the Inconstancy of Woman. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 And oh ! ye gentlemen who have already 
 Some chaste liaison of the kind I mean 
 
 An honest friendship with a married lady 
 The only thing of this sort ever seen 
 
 To last of all connexions the most steady, 
 
 And the true Hymen, (the first's but a screen) 
 
 Yet for all that keep not too long away, 
 
 I Ve known the absent wrong*d four times a-day. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Lambro, our sea-solicitor, who had 
 
 Much less experience of dry land than ocean, 
 
 On seeing his own chimney-smoke, felt glad ; 
 But not knowing metaphysics, had no notion 
 
 Of the true reason of his riot being sad, 
 Or that of any other strong emotion; 
 
 He loved his child, and would have wept the loss of her, 
 
 But knew the cause no more than a philosopher.
 
 166 DON JUAN. CANTO HI. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 He saw his white walls shining in the sun, 
 His garden trees all shadowy and green ; 
 
 He heard his rivulet's light bubbling run, 
 The distant dog -bark : and perceived between 
 
 The umbrage of the wood so cool and dun 
 The moving figures, and the sparkling sheen 
 
 Of arms (in the East all arm) and various dyes 
 
 Of colour' d garbs, as bright as butterflies. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 And as the spot where they appear he nears, 
 Surprised at these unwonted signs of idling, 
 
 He hears alas! no music of the spheres, 
 But an unhallow'd, earthly sound of fiddling ! 
 
 A melody which made him doubt his ears, 
 The cause being past his guessing or unriddling; 
 
 A pipe, too, and a drum, and shortly after, 
 
 A most unoriental roar of laughter. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 And still more nearly to the place advancing, 
 Descending rather quickly the declivity, 
 
 Through the waved branches, o'er the greensward 
 
 glancing, 
 'Midst other indications of festivity, 
 
 Seeing a troop of his domestics dancing 
 Like dervises, who turn as on a pivot, he 
 
 Perceived it was the Pyrrhic dance so martial, 
 
 To which the Levantines are very partial.
 
 CANTO HI. DON JUAN. 167 
 
 XXX. 
 
 And further on a group of Grecian girls, 
 The first and tallest her white kerchief waving, 
 
 Were strung together like a row of pearls ; 
 
 Link'd hand in hand, and dancing : each too having 
 
 Down her white neck long- floating auburn curls 
 (The least of which would set ten poets raving); 
 
 Their leader sang and bounded to her song, 
 
 With choral step and voice, the virgin throng. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 And here, assembled cross-legg'd round their trays, 
 Small social parties just begun to dine; 
 
 Pilaus and meats of all sorts met the gaze, 
 And flasks of Samian and of Chian wine, 
 
 And sherbet cooling in the porous vase; 
 Above them their dessert grew on its vine, 
 
 The orange and pomegranate nodding o'er, 
 
 Dropp'd in their laps, scarce pluck'd, their mellow store. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 A band of children, round a snow-white rain, 
 There wreathe his venerable horns with flowers ; 
 
 While peaceful as if still an unwean'd lamb, 
 The patriarch of the flock all gently cowers 
 
 His sober head, majestically tame, 
 
 Or eats from out the palm, or playful lowers 
 
 His brow, as if in act to butt, and then 
 
 Yielding to their small hands, draws back again.
 
 168 DON JUAN. CANTO m. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Their classical profiles, and glittering dresses, 
 Their large black eyes, and soft seraphic cheeks, 
 
 Crimson as cleft pomegranates, their long tresses, 
 The gesture which enchants, the eye that speaks, 
 
 The innocence which happy childhood blesses, 
 Made quite a picture of these little Greeks ,~ 
 
 So that the philosophical beholder 
 
 Sigh'd for their sakes that they should e'er grow older, 
 
 XXXIV 
 
 Afar, a dwarf buffoon stood telling tales 
 
 To a sedate gray circle of old smokers 
 Of secret treasures found in hidden vales, 
 
 Of wonderful replies from Arab jokers, 
 Of charms to make good gold and cure bad ails, 
 
 Of rocks bewitch'd that open to the knockers, 
 Of magic ladies who, by one sole act, 
 Transformed their lords to beasts, (but that's a fact). 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Here was no lack of innocent diversion 
 
 For the imagination or the senses, 
 Song, dance, wine, music, stories from the Persian,, 
 
 All pretty pastimes in which no offence is ; 
 But Lambro saw all these things with aversion, 
 
 Perceiving in his absence such expenses, 
 Dreading that climax of all human ills, 
 The inflammation of his weekly bills.
 
 CANTO in. DON JUAN. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Ah! what is man? what perils still environ 
 The happiest mortals even after dinner 
 
 A day of gold from out an age of iron 
 Is all that life allows the luckiest sinner ; 
 
 Pleasure (when'er she sings, at least) 's a siren, 
 That lures to flay alive the young beginner ; 
 
 Lambro's reception at his people's banquet 
 
 Was such as fire accords to a wet blanket. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 He being a man who seldom used a word 
 Too much, and wishing gladly to surprise 
 
 (In general he surprised men with the sword) 
 His daughter had not sent before to advise 
 
 Of his arrival, so that no one stirr'd; 
 
 And long he paused to re-assure his eyes, 
 
 In fact much more astonish'd than delighted, 
 
 To find so much good company invited. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 He did not know (Alas ! how men will lie) 
 That a report (especially the Greeks) 
 
 Avouch'd his death (such people never die), 
 And put his house in mourning several weeks, 
 
 But now their eyes and also lips were dry,- 
 The bloom too had return'd to Haidee's cheeks. 
 
 Her tears too being return'd into their fount, 
 
 She now kept house upon her own account.
 
 170 DON JUAN- CANTO in. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 Hence all this rice, meat, dancing, wine, and fiddling 1 , 
 Which turn'd the isle into a place of pleasure ; 
 
 The servants all were getting drunk or idling, 
 A life which made them happy beyond measure. 
 
 Her father's hospitality seem'd middling, 
 
 Compared with what Haidee did with his treasure ; 
 
 'Twas wonderful how things went on improving, 
 
 While she had not one hour to spare from loving. 
 
 XL. 
 
 Perhaps you think in stumbling on this feast 
 
 He flew into a passion, and in fact 
 There was no mighty reason to be pleased ; 
 
 Perhaps you prophesy some sudden act, 
 The whip, the rack, or dungeon at the least, 
 
 To teach his people to be more exact, 
 And that, proceeding at a very high rate, 
 He show'd the royal penchants of a pirate. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 You're wrong. He was the mildest manner*d man 
 That ever scuttled ship or cut a throat ; 
 
 With such true breeding of a gentleman, 
 You never could divine his real thought ; 
 
 No courtier could, and scarcely woman can 
 Gird more deceit within a petticoat; 
 
 Pity he loved adventurous life's variety, 
 
 He was so great a loss to good society.
 
 CANTO in. DON JUAN. 171 
 
 XLII. 
 
 Advancing to the nearest dinner tray, 
 Tapping- the shoulder of the nighest guest, 
 
 With a peculiar smile, which, by the way, 
 Boded no good, whatever it express'd, 
 
 He ask'd the meaning of this holiday ; 
 The vinous Greek to whom he had address'd 
 
 His question, much too merry to divine 
 
 The questioner, fill'd up a glass of wine, 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 And without turning his facetious head, 
 
 Over his shoulder, with a Bacchant air, 
 Presented the o'erflowing cup, and said, 
 
 " Talking's dry work, I have no time to spare.'' 
 A second hiccup'd, " Our old master's dead, 
 
 " You'd better ask our mistress who's his heir." 
 " Our mistress !" quoth a third : "Our mistress ! pooh !- 
 "You mean our master not the old but new. 1 ' 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 These rascals, being new comers, knew not whom 
 They thus address'd and Lambro's visage fell 
 
 And o'er his eye a momentary gloom 
 
 Pass'd, but he strove quite courteously to quell 
 
 The expression, and endeavouring to resume 
 His smile, requested one of them to tell 
 
 The name and quality of his new patron, 
 
 Who seem'd to have turu'd Haidee into a matron.
 
 172 DON JUAN. CANTO in. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 '' I know not,' 1 quoth the fellow, <( who or what 
 " He is, nor whence he came and little care; 
 
 " But this I know, that this roast capon's fat, 
 
 " And that good wine ne'er wash'd down better fare 
 
 " And if you are not satisfied with that, 
 " Direct your questions to my neighbour there ; 
 
 " He'll answer all for better or for worse, 
 
 " For none likes more to hear himself con verse."(l) 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 I said that Lambro was a man of patience, 
 And certainly he show'd the best of breeding, 
 
 Which scarce even France, the paragon of nations, 
 E'er saw her most polite of sons exceeding ; 
 
 He bore these sneers against his near relations, 
 His own anxiety, his heart too bleeding, 
 
 The insults too of every servile glutton, 
 
 Who all the time were eating up his mutton. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 Now in a person used to much command 
 To bid men come, and go, and come again 
 
 To see his orders done too out of hand 
 Whether the word was death, or but the chain 
 
 It may seem strange to find his manners bland ; 
 Yet such things are, which I can not explain, 
 
 Though doubtless he who can command himself 
 
 Is good to govern almost as a Guelf.
 
 CANTO in. DON JUAN. 173 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 Not that he was not sometimes rash or so, 
 But never in his real and serious mood ; 
 
 Then calm, concentrated, and still, and slow, 
 He lay coil'd like the boa in the wood ; 
 
 With him it never was a word and blow, 
 His angry word once o'er, he shed no blood, 
 
 But in his silence there was much to rue, 
 
 And his one blow left little work for two. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 He ask'd no further questions, and proceeded 
 On to the house, but by a private way, 
 
 So that the few who met him hardly heeded, 
 So little they expected him that day ; 
 
 If love paternal in his bosom pleaded 
 
 For Haidee's sake, is more than I can say, 
 
 But certainly to one deem'd dead returning, 
 
 This revel seem'd a curious mode of mourning. 
 
 L. 
 
 If all the dead could now return to life, 
 
 (Which God forbid !) or some, or a great many ; 
 For instance, if a husband or his wife 
 
 (Nuptial examples are as good as any), 
 No doubt whate'er might be their former strife, 
 
 The present weather would be much more rainy- 
 Tears shed into the grave of the connexion 
 Would share most probably its resurrection.
 
 174 DON JUAN. CANTO in. 
 
 LI. 
 
 He enter'd in the house no more his home, 
 A thing to human feelings the most trying, 
 
 And harder for the heart to overcome, 
 Perhaps, than even the mental pangs of dying; 
 
 To find our hearthstone turn'd into "a tomb, 
 And round its once warm precincts palely lying 
 
 The ashes of our hopes, is a deep grief, 
 
 Beyond a single gentleman's belief. 
 
 LII. 
 
 He enter'd in the house his home no more, 
 For without hearts there is no home; and felt 
 
 The solitude of passing his own door 
 Without a welcome ; there he long had dwelt, 
 
 There his few peaceful days Time had swept o'er, 
 There his worn bosom and keen eye would melt 
 
 Over the innocence of that sweet child, 
 
 His only shrine of feelings undefiled. 
 
 Lin. 
 
 He was a man of a strange temperament, 
 Of mild demeanour though of savage mood, 
 
 Moderate in all his habits, and content 
 With temperance in pleasure, as in food, 
 
 Quick to perceive, and strong to bear, and meant 
 For something better, if not wholly good; 
 
 His country's wrongs and his despair to save her 
 
 Had stung him from a slave to an enslaver.
 
 CANTO in. DON JUAN. 175 
 
 LIV. 
 
 The love of power, and rapid gain of gold, 
 The hardness by long habitude produced, 
 
 The dangerous life in which he had grown old, 
 The mercy he had granted oft abused, 
 
 The sights he was accustom'd to behold, 
 The wild seas, and wild men with whom he cruised, 
 
 Had cost his enemies a long repentance, 
 
 And made him a good friend, but bad acquaintance . 
 
 LV. 
 
 But something of the spirit of old Greece 
 Flash'd o'er his soul a few heroic rays, 
 
 Such as lit onward to the Golden Fleece 
 His predecessors in the Colchian days ; 
 
 'Tis true he had no ardent love for peace 
 Alas ! his country show'd no path to praise : 
 
 Hate to the world and war with every nation 
 
 He vvag'ed, in vengeance of her degradation. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 Still o'er his mind the influence of the clime 
 Shed its Ionian elegance, which show'd 
 
 Its power unconsciously full many a time, 
 A taste seen in the choice of his abode, 
 
 A love of music and of scenes sublime, 
 A pleasure in the gentle stream that flow'd 
 
 Past him in crystal, and a joy in flowers, 
 
 Bedew'd his spirit in his calmer hours.
 
 DON JUAN. CANTO in. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 But whatsoe'er he had of love reposed 
 On that beloved (laughter ; she had been 
 
 The only thing which kept his heart unclosed 
 
 Amidst the savage deeds he had done and seen ; 
 
 A lonely pure affection unopposed : 
 There wanted but the loss of this to wean 
 
 His feelings from all inilk of human kindness, 
 
 And turn him like the Cyclops mad with blindness. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 The cubless tigress in her jungle raging 
 Is dreadful to the shepherd and the flock ; 
 
 The ocean when its yeasty war is waging 
 Is awful to the vessel near the rock ; 
 
 But violent things will sooner bear assuaging, 
 Their fury being spent by its own shock, 
 
 Than the stern, single, deep, and wordless jre 
 
 Of a strong human heart, and in a sire- 
 
 L1X. 
 
 It is a hard although a common case 
 
 To find our children running restive they 
 
 In whom our brightest days we would retrace. 
 Our little selves re-form'd in finer clay, 
 
 Just as old age is creeping on apace, 
 
 And clouds come o'er the sunset of our day, 
 
 They kindly leave us, though not quite alone, 
 
 But in good company the gout and stone.
 
 CANTO in. DON JUAN. 177 
 
 LX. 
 
 Yet a fine family is a fine thing 
 
 (Provided they don't come in after dinner) ; 
 'Tis beautiful to see a matron bring 
 
 Her children up (if nursing them don't thin her): 
 Like cherubs round an altar-piece they cling 
 
 To the fire-side (a sight to touch a sinner). 
 A lady with her daughters or her nieces 
 Shine like a guinea and seven shilling-pieces. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 Old Lambro pass'd unseen a private gate, 
 
 And stood within his hall at eventide ; 
 Meantime the lady and her lover sate 
 
 At wassail in their beauty and their pride : 
 An ivory, inlaid table spread with state 
 
 Before them, and fair slaves on every side ; 
 Gems, gold, and silver, form'd the service mostly, 
 Mother of pearl and coral the less costly- 
 
 LXII. 
 
 The dinner made about a hundred dishes ; 
 
 Lamb and pistachio nuts in short, all meats, 
 And saffron soups, and sweetbreads; and the fishes 
 
 Were of the finest that e'er flounced in nets, 
 Drest to a Sybarite's most pamper'd wishes ; 
 
 The beverage was various sherbets 
 Of raisin, orange, and pomegranate juice, 
 Squeezed through the'rind, which makes it best for use. 
 
 VOL. I- N
 
 178 DON JUAN. CANTO in- 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 These were ranged round, each in its crystal ewer, 
 And fruits, and date-bread loaves closed the repast, 
 
 And Mocha's berry, from Arabia pure, 
 In small fine China cups, came in at last ; 
 
 Gold cups of filigree made to secure 
 The hand from burning underneath them placed, 
 
 Cloves, cinnamon, and saffron too were boil'd 
 
 Up with the coffee, which (I think) they spoil'd. 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 The hangings of the room were tapestry, made 
 Of velvet pannels, each of different hue, 
 
 And thick with damask flowers of silk inlaid ; 
 And round them ran a yellow border too ; 
 
 The upper border, richly wrought, display'd, 
 Embroider'd delicately o'er with blue, 
 
 Soft Persian sentences, in lilac letters, 
 
 From poets, or the moralists their betters. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 These oriental writings on the wall, 
 
 Quite common in those countries, are a kind 
 
 Of monitors adapted to recall, 
 
 Like skulls at Memphian banuqets, to the mind 
 
 The words which shook Belshazzar in his hall, 
 And took his kingdom from him : You will find, 
 
 Though sages may pour out their wisdom's treasure, 
 
 There is no sterner moralist than pleasure.
 
 CANTO III. 
 
 DON JUAN. 170 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 A beauty at the season's close grown hectic, 
 A genius who has drunk himself to death, 
 
 A rake turn'd methodistic or eclectic 
 
 (For that's the name they like to pray beneath) 
 
 But most, an alderman struck apoplectic, 
 Are things that really take away the breath, 
 
 And show that late hours, wine, and love are able 
 
 To do not much less damage than the table. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 Haidee and Juan carpeted their feet 
 
 On crimson satin, border'd with pale blue ; 
 
 Their sofa occupied three parts complete 
 Of the apartment and appear'd quite new; 
 
 The velvet cushions (for a throne more meet) 
 Were scarlet, from whose glowing centre grew 
 
 A sun emboss'd in gold, whose rays of tissue, 
 
 Meridian-like, were seen all light to issue. 
 
 LXV1II. 
 
 Crystal and marble, plate and porcelain, 
 Had done their work of splendour ; Indian mats 
 
 And Persian carpets, which the heart bled to stain, 
 Over the floors were spread ; gazelles and cats, 
 
 And dwarfs and blacks, and such like things, that gain 
 Their bread as ministers and favourites (that's 
 
 To say, by degradation) mingled there 
 
 As plentiful as in a court or fair.
 
 180 DON JUAN. CANTO in. 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 There was no want of lofty mirrors, and 
 
 The tables, most of ebony inlaid 
 With mother of pearl or ivory, stood at hand, 
 
 Or were of tortoise-shell or rare woods made, 
 Fretted with gold or silver: by command 
 
 The greater part of these were ready spread 
 With viands and sherbets in ice and wine 
 Kept for all comers, at all hours to dine. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 Of all the dresses I select Haidee's : 
 She wore two jelicks- -one was of pale yellow ; 
 
 Of azure, pink, and white was her chemise 
 'Neath which her breast heaved like a little billow ; 
 
 With buttons form'd of pearls as large as pease, 
 All gold and crimson shone her jelick's fellow, 
 
 And the striped white gauze baracan that bound her, 
 
 Like fleecy clouds about the moon, flow'd round her. 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 One large gold bracelet clasp'd each lovely arm, 
 Lockless so pliable from the pure gold 
 
 That the hand stretch'd and shut it without harm, 
 The limb which it adorn'd its only mould ; 
 
 So beautiful its very shape would charm, 
 And clinging as if loth to lose its hold, 
 
 The purest ore inclosed the whitest skin 
 
 That e'er by precious metal was held in. (2)
 
 CANTO in. DON JUAN. 181 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 Around, as princess of her father's land, 
 A like gold bar above her instep roll'd (3) 
 
 Announced her rank j twelve rings were oa her hand ; 
 Her hair was starr'd with gems; her veil's fine fold 
 
 Below her breast was fasten'd with a band 
 
 Of lavish pearls, whose worth could scarce be told 
 
 Her orange silk full Turkish trowsers furPd 
 
 About the prettiest ankle in the world. 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 Her hair's long auburn waves down to her heel 
 Flow'd like an Alpine torrent which the sun 
 
 Dyes with his morning light, and would conceal 
 Her person (4) if allovv'd at large to run, 
 
 And still they seem resentfully to feel 
 
 The silken fillet's curb, and sought to shun 
 
 Their bonds whene'er some Zephyr caught began 
 
 To offer his young"pinion as her fun. 
 
 LXXIV. 
 Round her she made an atmosphere of life, 
 
 The very air seem'd lighter from her eyes, 
 They were so soft and beautiful, and rife 
 
 With all we can imagine of the skies, 
 And pure as Psyche ere she grew a wife 
 
 Too pure even for the purest human ties ; 
 Her overpowering presence made you feel 
 It would not be idolatry to kneel.
 
 DON JUAN. CANTO in. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 fter eyelashes, though dark as night, were tinged 
 (It is the country's custom), but in vain ; 
 
 For those large black eyes were so blackly fringed, 
 The glossy rebels mock'd the jetty stain, 
 
 And in their native beauty stood avenged : 
 
 Her nails were touch'd with hen$a; but again- 
 
 The power of art was turn'd to nothing, for 
 
 They could not look more rosy than before. 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 The henna should be deeply dyed to make 
 The skin relieved appear more fairly fair ; 
 
 She had no need of this, day ne'er will break 
 On mountain tops more heavenly white than her : 
 
 The eye might doubt if it were well awake, 
 She was so like a vision ; 1 might err, 
 
 But Shakspeare also says 'tis very silly 
 
 " To gild refined gold, or paint the lily." 
 
 LXXVI I. 
 
 Juan had on a shawl of black and gold. 
 
 But a white baracan, and so transparent 
 The sparkling gems beneath you might behold, 
 
 Like small stars through the milky way apparent ; 
 His turban, furl'd in many a graceful fold, 
 
 An emerald aigrette with Haidee's hair in't 
 Surmounted as its clasp a glowing crescent, 
 Whose rays shone ever trembling, but incessant.
 
 CANTO HI. DON JUAN. 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 And now they were diverted by their suite, 
 Dwarfs, dancing girls, black eunuchs, and a poet, 
 
 Which made their new establishment complete ; 
 The last was of great fame, and liked to show it : 
 
 His verses rarely wanted their due feet 
 
 And for his theme he seldom sung below it, 
 
 He being paid to satirise or flatter, 
 
 As the psalm says, " inditing a good matter." 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 He praised the present, and abused the past, 
 Reversing the good custom of old days, 
 
 An eastern antyacobin at last 
 
 He turn'd, preferring pudding to no praise 
 
 For some few years his lot had been o'ercast 
 By his seeming independent in his lays, 
 
 But now he sung the Sultan and the Pacha 
 
 With truth like Southey and with verse like Crashavv. 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 He vvas a man who had seen many changes, 
 And always changed as true as any needle ; 
 
 His polar star being one which rather ranges, 
 And not the fix'd he knew the way to wheedle : 
 
 So vile he 'scaped the doom which oft avenges : 
 And being fluent (save indeed when fee'd ill), 
 
 He lied with such a fervour of intention 
 
 There was no doubt he earn'd his laureate pension.
 
 DON JUAN. CANTO 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 But he had genius, when a turncoat has it 
 
 The " Vates irritabilis" takes care 
 That without notice few full moons shall pass it ; 
 
 Even good men like to make the public stare : 
 But to my subject let me see what was it? 
 
 Oh ! the third canto and the pretty pair 
 Their loves, and feasts, and house, and dress, and mode 
 Of living in their insular abode. 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 Their poet, a sad trimmer, but no less 
 
 In company a very pleasant fellow, 
 Had been the favourite of full many a njcss 
 
 Of men, and made them speeches when half mellow ; 
 And though his meaning they could rarely guess, 
 
 Yet still they deign'd to hiccup or to bellow 
 The glorious meed of popular applause, 
 Of which the first ne'er knows the second cause. 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 But now being lifted into high society, 
 And having pick'd up several odds and ends 
 
 Of free thoughts in his travels, for variety, 
 
 He cleem'd, being in a lone isle, among friends, 
 
 That without any danger of a riot, he 
 
 Might for long lying make himself augends ; 
 
 And singing as he sung in his warm youth, 
 
 Agree to a short armistice with truth.
 
 CANTO HI. DON JUAN. 185 
 
 LXXX1V. 
 
 He had travell'd 'mongst the Arabs, Turks, and Franks, 
 And knew the self-loves of the different nations : 
 
 And having lived with people of all ranks, 
 Had something ready upon most occasions 
 
 Which got him a few presents and some thanks. 
 He varied with some skill his adulations ; 
 
 To " do at Rome as Romans do," a piece 
 
 Of conduct was which he observed in Greece. 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 Thus, usually, when he was ask'd to sing, 
 
 He gave the different nations something national , 
 
 'Twas all the same to him " God save the king," 
 Or " Ca ira," according to the fashion all ; 
 
 His muse made increment of any thing, 
 From the high lyrical to the low rational : 
 
 If Pindar sang horse-races, what should hinder 
 
 Himself from being as pliable as Pindar? 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 In France, for instance, he would write a chanson ; 
 
 In England a six canto quarto tale ; 
 In Spain, he'd make a ballad or romance on 
 
 The last war much the same in Portugal ; 
 In Germany, the Pegasus he'd prance on 
 
 Would be old Go the's (see what says de Stael) ; 
 In Italy, he'd ape the " Trecentist! ;" 
 In Greece, he'd sing some sort of hymn like this t'ye:
 
 18G DON JUAN. CANTO HI. 
 
 The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece ! 
 
 Where burning Sappho loved and sung, 
 Where grew the arts of war and peace, 
 
 Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung ! 
 Eternal summer gilds them yet, 
 But all, except their sun, is,set. 
 
 The Scian and the Teian muse, 
 The hero's harp, the lover's lute, 
 
 Have found the fame your shores refuse; 
 Their place of birth alone is mute 
 
 To sounds which echo further west 
 
 Than your sires' " Islands of the Blest." 
 
 The mountains look on Marathon 
 And Marathon looks on the sea , 
 
 And musing there an hour alone, 
 
 I dream'd that Greece might still be free ; 
 
 For standing on the Persian's grave ; 
 
 I could not deem myself a slave. 
 
 A king sat on the rocky brow 
 Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis ; 
 
 And ships, by thousands, lay below, 
 And men in nations ; all were his ! 
 
 He counted them at break of day 
 
 And when the sun set where were thev ?
 
 CANTO HI. DON JUAN. 187 
 
 And where are they ? and where art thou, 
 My country ? On thy voiceless shore 
 
 The heroic lay is tuneless now 
 The heroic bosom beats no more ! 
 
 And must thy lyre, so long divine, 
 
 Degenerate into hands like mine ? 
 
 'Tis something, in the dearth of fame, 
 Though link'd among a fetter'd race, 
 
 To feel at least a patriot's shame, 
 Even as I sing, suffuse my face; 
 
 For what is left the poet here ? 
 
 For Greeks a blush for Greece a tear. 
 
 Must we but weep o'er days more blest ? 
 
 Must we but blush ? Our father's bled. 
 Earth ! render back from out thy breast 
 
 A remnant of our Spartan dead ! 
 Of the three hundred grant but three, 
 To make a new Thermopylae ! 
 
 What, silent still ? and silent all ? 
 
 Ah ! no ; the voices of the dead 
 Sound like a distant torrent's fall, 
 
 And answer, " Let one living head, 
 But one arise, we come, we come !" 
 'Tis but the living who are dumb.
 
 188 DON JUAN. CANTO m. 
 
 In vain in vain : strike other chords ; 
 
 Fill high the cup with Samian wine ! 
 Leave battles to the Turkish hordes, 
 
 And shed the blood of Scio's vine ! 
 Hark ! rising to the ignoble call 
 How answers each bold bacchanal ! 
 
 You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet, 
 Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone ? 
 
 Of two such lessons, why forget 
 The nobler and the manlier one ? 
 
 You have the letters Cadmus gave 
 
 Think ye he meant them for a slave ? 
 
 Fill high the bowl with Samian wine ! 
 
 We will not think of themes like these ! 
 It made Anacreon's song divine : 
 
 He served but served Polycrates 
 A tyrant; but our masters then 
 Were still, at least, our countrymen. 
 
 The tyrant of the Chersonese 
 
 Was freedom's best and bravest friend ; 
 That tyrant was Miltiades ! 
 
 Oh ! that the present hour would lend 
 Another despot of the kind ! 
 Such chains as his were sure to bind.
 
 CANTO in. DON JUAN. 189 
 
 Fill high the bowl with Samian wine ! 
 
 On Suli's rock, and Parga's shore, 
 Exists the remnant of a line 
 
 Such as the Doric mothers bore ; 
 And there, perhaps, some seed is sown, 
 The Heracleidan blood might own. 
 
 Trust not for freedom to the Franks 
 They have a king who buys and sells : 
 
 In native swords, and native ranks, 
 The only hope of courage dwells ; 
 
 But Turkish force, and Latin fraud, 
 
 Would break your shield, however broad. 
 
 Fill high the bowl with Samian wine ! 
 
 Our virgins dance beneath the shade 
 I see their glorious black eyes shine ; 
 
 But gazing on each glowing maid, 
 My own the burning tear-drop laves, 
 To think such breasts must suckle slaves 
 
 Place me on Sunium's marbled steep 
 Where nothing, save the waves and I, 
 
 May hear our mutual murmurs sweep ; 
 There, swan-like, let me sing and die : 
 
 A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine 
 
 Dash down yon cup of Samian wine !
 
 190 DON JUAN. CANTO ii r. 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 Thus sung, or would, or could, or should have sung, 
 The modern Greek, in tolerable verse ; 
 
 If not like Orpheus quite, when Greece was young, 
 Yet in these times he might have done much worse : 
 
 His strain display'd some feeling right or wrong; 
 And feeling, in a poet, is the source 
 
 Of others' feeling : but they are such liars. 
 
 And take all colours like the hand of dyers, 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 But words are things, and a small drop of ink, 
 Falling, like dew, upon a thought, produces 
 
 That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think 
 *Tis strange, the shortest letter which man uses 
 
 Instead of speech, may form a lasting link 
 Of ages ; to what straits old Time reduces 
 
 Frail man, when paper even a rag like this, 
 
 Survives himself, his tomb, and all that's his. 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 And when his bones are dust, his grave a blank, 
 His station, generation, even his nation, 
 
 Become a thing or nothing, save to rank 
 In chronological commemoration, 
 
 Some dull MS. oblivion long has sank, 
 Or graven stone found in a barrack's station 
 
 In digging the foundation of a closet, 
 
 May turn his name up, as a rare deposit.
 
 CANTO in. DON JUAN. 191 
 
 XC. 
 And glory long has made the sages smile ; 
 
 'Tis something, nothing, words, illusion, wind 
 Depending more upon the historian's style 
 
 Than on the name a person leaves behind : 
 Troy owes to Homer what whist owes to Hoyle ; 
 
 The present century was growing blind 
 To the great Marlborough's skill in giving knocks, 
 Until his late Life by Archdeacon Coxe. 
 
 XCI. 
 
 Milton 's the prince of poets so we say ; 
 
 A little heavy, but no less divine : 
 An independent being in his day 
 
 Learn'd, pious, temperate in love and wine ; 
 But his life falling into Johnson's way, 
 
 We 're told this great high priest of all the Nine 
 Was \vhipt at college a harsh sire odd spouse, 
 For the first Mrs. Milton left his house. 
 
 XCII. 
 
 All these are, certes, entertaining facts, 
 
 Like Shakspeare's stealing deer, Lord Bacon's bribes 
 Like Titus' youth, and Caesar's earliest acts; 
 
 Like Burns (whom Doctor Currie well describes) ; 
 Like Cromwell's pranks ; but although truth exacts 
 
 These amiable descriptions from the scribes, 
 As most essential to their hero's story, 
 They do not much contribute to his glory.
 
 192 JK>N JUAN. CANTO in. 
 
 XCIII. 
 
 All are not moralists, like Southey, when 
 He prated to the world of " Pantisocrasy ;'' 
 
 Or Wordsworth unexcised, unhired, who then 
 Season'd his pedlar poems with democracy ; 
 
 Or Coleridge, long before his flighty pen 
 Let to the Morning Post its aristocracy ; 
 
 When he and Southey, following the same path, 
 
 Espoused two partners (milliners of Bathl . 
 
 XCIV. 
 
 Such names at present cut a convict figure, 
 The very Botany Bay in moral geography ; 
 
 Their loyal treason, renegade vigour, 
 
 Are good manure for their more bare biography. 
 
 Wordsworth's last quarto, by the way, is bigger 
 Than any since the birth day of typography ; 
 
 A clumsy frowzy poem, call'd the " Excursion," 
 
 Writ in a manner which is my aversion 
 
 xcv. 
 
 He there builds up a formidable dyke 
 Between his own and others' intellect ; 
 
 But Wordsworth's poem, and his followers, like 
 Joanna Southcote's Shiloh, and her sect, 
 
 Are things which in this country don't strike 
 The public mind, so few are the elect ; 
 
 And the new births of both their stale virginities 
 
 Have proved but dropsies, taken for divinities.
 
 CANTO III. 
 
 DON JUAN. 193 
 
 XCVI. 
 
 But let me to my story : I must own, 
 
 If I have any fault, it is digression ; 
 Leaving my people to proceed alone, 
 
 While I soliloquize beyond expression ; 
 But these are my addresses from the throne, 
 
 Which put off business to the ensuing session : 
 Forgetting each omission is a loss to 
 The world, not quite so great as Ariosto. 
 
 XCVII. 
 I know that what our neighbours call " longueurs," 
 
 (We've not so good a word, but have the (king 
 In that complete perfection which ensures 
 
 An epic from Bob Southey every spring ) 
 Form not the true temptation which allures 
 
 The reader; but 'twould not be hard to bring 
 Some fine examples of the epopee, 
 To prove its grand ingredient is ennui. 
 
 XCVIII. 
 We learn from Horace, Homer sometimes sleeps; 
 
 We feel without him ; Wordsworth sometimes wakes, 
 To show with what complacency he creeps, 
 
 With his dear " Waggoner!," around his lakes ; 
 He wishes for " a boat," to sail the deeps 
 
 Of ocean ? No, of air ; and then he makes 
 Another outcry for " a little boat," 
 And drivels seas to set it well afloat. 
 
 VOL. i. o
 
 194 DON JUAN. 
 
 XCIX. 
 
 If he must fain sweep o'er the etherial plain, 
 And Pegasus runs restive in his " waggon," 
 
 Could he not beg the loan of Charles's Wain ? 
 Or pray Medea for a single dragon ? 
 
 Or if, too classic for his vulgar brain, 
 He fear'd his neck to venture such a nag on, 
 
 And he must needs mount nearer to the moon, 
 
 Could not the blockhead ask for a balloon ? 
 
 C. 
 
 " Pedlars," and "boats," and " waggons !" Oh ! ye shades 
 Of Pope and Dryden, are we come to this ? 
 
 That trash of such sort not alone evades 
 Contempt, but from the bathos' vast abyss 
 
 Floats scumlike uppermost, and these Jack Cades 
 Of sense and song above your graves may hiss 
 
 The "little boatman" and his " Peter Bell" 
 
 Can sneer at him who drew " Achitophel !" 
 
 CI. 
 
 T' our tale. The feast was over, the slaves gone, 
 The dwarfs and dancing girls had all retired ; 
 
 The Arab lore and poet's song were done, 
 And every sound of revelry expired ; 
 
 The lady and her lover, left alone, 
 
 The rosy flood of twilight sky admired ; 
 
 Ave Maria ! o'er the earth and sea, 
 
 That heavenliest hour of Heaven is worthiest thee !
 
 CANTO III. DON JUAN. 
 
 CIt. 
 
 Ave Maria! blessed be the hour ! 
 
 The time, the clime, the spot, where I so oft 
 Have felt that moment in its fullest power 
 
 Sink o'er the earth so beautiful and soft, 
 While swung the deep bell in the distant tower, 
 
 Or the faint dying day-hymn stole aloft, 
 And not a breath crept through the rosy air, 
 And yet the forest leaves seem'd stirr'd with prayer. 
 
 GUI. 
 
 Ave Maria ! 'tis the hour of prayer ! 
 
 Ave Maria ! 'tis the hour of love ! 
 Ave Maria! may our spirits dare 
 
 Look up to thine and to thy Son's above ! 
 Ave Maria ! oh that face so fair ! 
 
 Those downcast eyes beneath the Almighty dove 
 What though 'tis but a pictured image strike 
 That painting is no idol, 'tis too like. 
 
 CIV. 
 
 Some kinder casuists are pleased so say, 
 In nameless print that I have no devotion ; 
 
 But set those persons down with me to pray, 
 And you shall see who has the properest notion 
 
 Of getting into Heaven the shortest way; 
 My altars are the mountains and the ocean, 
 
 Earth, air, stars, all that springs from the great Whole, 
 
 Who hath produced, and will receive the soul.
 
 196 DON JUAN. CANTO in. 
 
 CV. 
 
 Sweet hour of twilight ! in the solitude 
 Of the pine forest, and the silent shore 
 
 Which bounds Ravenna's immemorial wood, 
 Rooted where once the Adrian wave flow'd o'er, 
 
 To where the last Cesarean fortress stood, 
 Evergreen forest ! which Boccaccio's lore 
 
 And Dryden's lay made haunted ground to me, 
 
 How have I loved the twilight hour and thee L 
 
 CVI. 
 
 The shrill cicalas, people of the pine, 
 Making their summer lives one ceaseless song, 
 
 Were the sole echos, save my steed's and mine' 
 And vesper bell's that rose the boughs along ; 
 
 The spectre huntsman of Onesti's line, 
 
 His hell-dogs, and their chase, and the fair throng, 
 
 Which learn'd from this example not to fly 
 
 From a true lover, shadow'd my mind's eye. 
 
 CVJI. 
 
 (5) Oh Hesperus ! thou bringest all good things 
 Home to the weary, to the hungry cheer, 
 
 To the young bird the parent's brooding wings, 
 The welcome stall to the o'erlabour'd steer; 
 
 Whate'er of peace about our hearthstone clings, 
 Whate'er our household gods protect of dear, 
 
 Are gather'd round us by thy look of rest ; 
 
 Thou bring'st the child, too, to the mother's breast.
 
 CANTO in. DON JUAN. 197 
 
 CVIII. 
 
 (6) Soft hour! which wakes the wish and melts the heart 
 Of those who sail the seas, on the first day 
 
 When they from their sweet friends are torn apart; 
 Or fills with love the pilgrim on his way 
 
 As the far bell of vesper makes him start, 
 Seeming to weep the dying day's decay; 
 
 Is this a fancy which our reason scorns ? 
 
 Ah ! surely nothing dies but something mourns ! 
 
 CIX. 
 
 When Nero perish'd by the justest doom 
 
 Which ever the destroyer yet destroy'd, 
 Amidst the roar of liberated Rome, 
 
 Of nations freed, and the world overjoyM, 
 Some hands unseen strew'd flowers upon his tomb : (7) 
 
 Perhaps the weakness of a heart not void 
 Of feeling for some kindness done when power 
 Had left the wretch an uncorrupted hour. 
 
 CX. 
 
 But I'm digressing : what on earth has Nero, 
 
 Or any such like sovereign buffoons, 
 To do with the transaction of my hero, 
 
 More than such madmen's fellow man the moon's? 
 Sure my invention must be down at zero, 
 
 And I grown one of many '* wooden spoons" 
 Of verse (the name with which we Cantabs please 
 To dub the last of honours in degrees).
 
 198 DON JUAN. CANTO m. 
 
 CXI. 
 
 1 feel this tediousness will never do 
 'Tis being too epic, and I must cut down 
 
 in copying) this long canto into two ; 
 They'll never find it out, unless I own 
 
 The fact, excepting some experienced few ; 
 And then as an improvement 'twill be shown ; 
 
 I'll prove that such the opinion of the critic is 
 
 From Aristotle passim. See noujTixnr.
 
 NOTES TO CANTO III. 
 
 Note 1, page 172, stanza xlv. 
 For none likes more to hear herself converse* 
 
 Rispone allor' Margatte, a dir tel tosto, 
 lo non credo piu al nero ch' all' azzurro ; 
 
 Ma nel cappone, o lesso, o vuogli arrosto, 
 E credo alcuna volta anco nel burro ; 
 
 Nella cervigia, e quando io n' ho nel mosto, 
 E molto piu nell' espro che il mangurro ; 
 
 Ma sopra tutto nel buon vino ho fede, 
 
 E credo che sia salvo chi gli crede. 
 
 PULCI, Morgante Maggiore, Canto 18, Stanza 151 = 
 
 Note 2, page 180, stanza Ixxi. 
 That e'er by precious metal was held in. 
 
 This dress is Moorish, and the bracelets and bar are worn 
 in the manner described. The reader will perceive hereafter > 
 that as the mother of Haidee was of Fez, her daughter wore 
 the garb of the country. 
 
 Note 8, page 181, stanza Ixxii. 
 A like gold bar above her instep roll'd. 
 The bar of gold above the instep is a mark of sovereign rank
 
 200 NOTES TO CANTO HI. 
 
 in the women of the families of the deys, and is worn as such 
 by their female relatives. 
 
 Note 4, page 181, stanza Ixxiii. 
 Her person if allffw'd at large to run. 
 
 This is no exaggeration ; there were four women whom I 
 remember to have seen, who possessed their hair in this profu- 
 sion ; of these, three were English, the other was a Levantine. 
 Their hair was of that length and quantity, that when let down > 
 it almost entirely shaded the person, so as nearly to render dress 
 a superfluity. Of these, only one had dark hair ; the Oriental's 
 had, perhaps, the lightest colour of the four. 
 
 Note 5, page 196, stanza cvii. 
 Oh Hesperus ! thou bringestall good things 
 Eairips iroaiTtx (fepitf 
 $; txpoy $spei; ctiyot 
 $ipti( fjiotrtpi iraifta, 
 
 Fragm ent of Sappho. 
 
 Note 6, page 197, stanza cviii. 
 Soft hour ! which wakes the wish and melts the heart. 
 " Era gia 1' ora che volge '1 disio, 
 
 " A' naviganti, e 'ntenerisce il cuore ; 
 " Lo di ch' han detto a' dolci amici a dio ; 
 
 " E che lo nuovo peregrin' d' amorc 
 " Punge, se ode Squilla di lontano, 
 
 " Cbe paia '1 giomo pianger che ei muore." 
 
 DANTE'S Purgatory, Canto VIII.
 
 NOTES TO CANTO III. 201 
 
 This last line is the first of Gray's Elegy, taken by him with- 
 out acknowledgment. 
 
 Note 7, page 197, stanza cix. 
 Some hands unseen strew'd flowers upon his tomb, 
 See Suetonius for this fact.
 
 DON JUAN. 
 
 CANTO IV.
 
 DON JUAN. 
 
 CANTO IV. 
 
 I. 
 
 No THING so difficult as a beginning 
 
 In poesy, unless perhaps the end ; 
 For oftentimes when Pegasus seems winning 
 
 The race, hs sprains a wing, and down we tend, 
 Like Lucifer when hurl'd from heaven for sinning; 
 
 Our sin the same, and hard as his to mend, 
 Being pride, which leads the mind to soar too far, 
 Till our own weakness shows us what we are. 
 
 II. 
 
 But Time, which brings all beings to their level, 
 And sharp Adversity, will teach at last 
 
 Man, and, as we would hope, perhaps the devil, 
 That neither of their intellects are vast : 
 
 While youth's hot wishes in our red veins revel, 
 We know not this the blood flows on too fast ; 
 
 But as the torrent widens towards the ocean, 
 
 We ponder deeply on each past emotion.
 
 DON JUAN. CANTO iv. 
 
 III. 
 
 As boy, I thought myself a clever fellow, 
 And wish'd that others held the same opinion, 
 
 They took it up when my days grew more mellow, 
 And other minds acknowledged my dominion : 
 
 Now my sere fancy "falls into the yellow 
 " Leaf,'' and imagination droops her pinion, 
 
 And the sad truth which hovers o'er my desk 
 
 Turns what was once romantic to burlesque. 
 
 IV. 
 
 And if I laugh at any mortal thing, 
 
 'Tis that I may not weep ; and if I weep, 
 
 'Tis that our nature cannot always bring 
 Itself to apathy, which we must steep 
 
 First in the icy depths of Lethe's spring 
 Ere what we least wish to behold will sleep : 
 
 Thetis baptized her mortal son in Styx ; 
 
 A mortal mother would on Lethe fix. 
 
 V. 
 
 Some have accused me of a strange design 
 Against the creed and morals of the land, 
 
 And trace it in this poem every line : 
 I don't pretend that I quite understand 
 
 My own meaning when I would be very fine; 
 But the fact is that I have nothing plann'd, 
 
 Unless it was to be a moment merry, 
 
 A novel word in my vocabulary.
 
 CANTO iv. DON JUAN. 
 
 VI. 
 
 To the kind reader of our sober clime 
 
 This way of writing will appear exotic ; 
 Pulci was sire of the half-serious rhyme, 
 
 Who sang when chivalry was more Quixotic, 
 And revell'd in the fancies of the time, 
 
 True knights, chaste dames, huge giants, kings despotic ; 
 But all these, save the last, being obsolete, 
 I chose a modern subject as more meet. 
 
 VII. 
 
 How I have treated it I do not know : 
 
 Perhaps no better than they have treated me 
 
 Who have imputed such designs as show 
 
 Not what they saw, but what they wish'd to see ; 
 
 But if it gives them pleasure, be it so, 
 
 This is a liberal age, and thoughts are free : 
 
 Meantime Apollo plucks me by the ear, 
 
 And tells me to resume my story here. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Young Juan and his lady-love were left 
 To their own hearts' most sweet society ; 
 
 Even Time the pitiless in sorrow cleft 
 
 With his rude scythe such gentle bosoms ; he 
 
 Sigh'd to behold them of their hours bereft 
 Though foe to love ; and yet they could not be 
 
 Meant to grow old, but die in happy spring, 
 
 Before one charm or hope had taken wing.
 
 208 DON JUAN. CANTO iv- 
 
 IX. 
 Their faces were not made for wrinkles, their 
 
 Pure blood to stagnate, their great hearts to fail ; 
 The blank gray was not made to blast their hair, 
 
 But like the climes that know nor snow nor hail 
 They were all summer : lightning might assail 
 
 And shiver them to ashes, but to trail 
 A long and snake-like life of dull decay 
 Was not for them they had too little clay. 
 
 X. 
 
 They were alone once more; for them to be 
 Thus was another Eden j they were never 
 
 Weary, unless when separate : the tree 
 Cut from its forest root of years the river 
 
 Damm'd from its fountain the child from the knee 
 And breast maternal wean'd at once for ever, 
 
 Would wither less than these two torn apart ; 
 
 Alas ! there is no instinct like the heart 
 
 XL 
 
 The heart which may be broken: happy they ! 
 
 Thrice fortunate ! who of that fragile mould, 
 The precious porcelain of human clay, 
 
 Break with the first fall : they can ne'er behold 
 The long year link'd with heavy day on day 
 
 And all which must be borne, and never told; 
 While life's strange principle will often lie 
 Deepest in those who long the most to die.
 
 CANTO iv. DON JUAN. 209 
 
 XII. 
 
 " Whom the gods love die young" was said of yore, ( 1 ) 
 And many deaths do they escape by this : 
 
 The death of friends, and that which slays even more 
 The death of friendship, love, youth, all that is, 
 
 Except mere breath ; and since the silent shore 
 Awaits at last even those whom longest miss 
 
 The old archer's shafts, perhaps the early grave 
 
 Which men weep over may be meant to save. 
 
 XIII. 
 Haid e and Juan thought not of the dead. 
 
 The heavens and earth, and air, seem'd made for them : 
 They found no fault with Time, save that he fled j 
 
 They saw not in themselves aught to condemn : 
 Each was the other's mirror, and but read 
 
 Joy sparkling in their dark eyes like a gem, 
 And knew such brightness was but the reflection 
 Of their exchanging glances of affection. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 The gentle pressure, and the thrilling touch, 
 The least glance better understood than words, 
 
 Which still said all, and ne'er could say too much ; 
 A language, too, but like to that of birds, 
 
 Known but to them, at least appearing such 
 As but to lovers a true sense affords; 
 
 Sweet playful phrases, which would seem absurd 
 
 To those who have ceased to hear such, or ne'er heard : 
 VOL. i. p
 
 2 10 DON JUAN. CANTO iv. 
 
 XV. 
 
 All these were theirs, for they were children still, 
 And children still they should have ever been ; 
 
 They were not made in the real world to fill 
 A busy character in the dull scene, 
 
 But like two beings born from out a rill, 
 A nymph and her beloved, all unseen 
 
 To pass their lives in fountains and on flowers, 
 
 And never know the weight of human hours. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Moons changing had roll'd on, and changeless found 
 Those their bright rise had lighted to such joys 
 
 As rarely they beheld throughout their round ; 
 And these were not of the vain kind which cloys, 
 
 For theirs were buoyant spirits, never bound 
 By the mere senses ; and that which destroys 
 
 Most love, possession, unto them appealed 
 
 A thing which each endearment more endearM. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Oh beautiful ! and rare as beautiful ! 
 
 But theirs was love in which the mind delights 
 To lose itself, when the old world grows dull, 
 
 And we are sick of its hack sounds and sights, 
 Intrigues, adventures of the common school, 
 
 Its petty passions, marriages, and flights, 
 Where Hymen's torch but brands one strumpet more, 
 Whose husband onlv knows her not a wh re
 
 CANTO' iv. DON JUAN. 211 
 
 ^ XVIII. 
 
 Hard words ; harsh truth; a truth which many know. 
 
 Enough. -The faithful and the fairy pair, 
 Who never found a single hour too slow, 
 
 What was it made them thus exempt from care? 
 Young innate feelings all have felt below 
 
 Which perish in the rest, but in them were 
 Inherent; what we mortals call romantic, 
 And always envy, though we deem it frantic. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 This is in others a factitious state, 
 
 An opium dream of too much youth and reading, 
 But was in them their nature or their fate : 
 
 No novels e'er had set their young hearts bleeding ; 
 For Haidee's knowledge was by no means great, 
 
 And Juan was a boy of saintly breeding; 
 So that there was no reason for their loves 
 More than for those of nightingales or doves. 
 
 XX. 
 
 They gazed upon the sunset ; 'tis an hour 
 
 Dear unto all, but dearest to their eyes, 
 For it had made them what they were : the power 
 
 Of love had first o'envhelm'd them from such skies, 
 When happiness had been their only dower, 
 
 And twilight saw them link'd in passion's ties ; 
 Charm'dwith each other, all things charm'd that brought 
 The past still welcome as the present thought.
 
 212 DON JUAN. CANTO iv. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 I know not why, but in that hour to-night, 
 Even as they gazed, a sudden tremor came, 
 
 And swept, as 'twere, across their heart's delight, 
 Like the wind o'er a harp-string, or a flame 
 
 When one is shook in sound, and one in sight; 
 And thus some boding flash'd through either frame, 
 
 And call'd from Juan's breast a faint low sigh, 
 
 While one new tear arose in Haidee's eye. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 That large black prophet eye seem'd to dilate 
 And follow far the disappearing sun, 
 
 As if their last day of a happy date 
 With his broad, bright, and dropping orb were gone ; 
 
 Juan gazed on her as to ask his fate- 
 He felt a grief, but knowing cause for none, 
 
 His glance enquired of hers for some excuse 
 
 For feelings causeless, or at least abstruse. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 She turn'd to him, and smiled, but in that sort 
 Which makes not others smile; then turn'd aside : 
 
 Whatever feeling shook her, it seem'd short, 
 And master'd by her wisdom or her pride; 
 
 When Juan spoke, too it might be in sport 
 Of this their mutual feeling, she replied 
 
 " If it should be so, but it cannot be 
 
 " Or I at least shall not survive to see."
 
 CANTO iv. DON JUAN. 213 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Juan would question further, but she press'd 
 His lip to hers, and silenced him with this, 
 
 And then disiniss'd the omen from her breast, 
 Defying augury with that fond kiss ; 
 
 And no doubt of all methods 'tis the best; 
 Some people prefer wine 'tis not amiss ; 
 
 I have tried both ; so those who would a part take 
 
 May choose between the headache and the heartache. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 One of the two, according to your choice, 
 Woman or wine, you'll have to undergo ; 
 
 Both maladies are taxes on our joys: 
 
 But which to choose, I really hardly know ; 
 
 And if I had to give a casting voice, 
 
 For both sides I could many reasons show, 
 
 And then decide, without great wrong to either, 
 
 It were much better to have both than neither. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Juan and Haidee gazed upon each other 
 
 With swimming looks of speechless tenderness, 
 
 Which mix'd all feelings, friend, child, lover, brother, 
 All that the best can mingle and express 
 
 When two pure hearts are pour'd in one another, 
 And love too much, and yet can not love less ; 
 
 But almost sanctify the sweet excess 
 
 By the immortal wish and power to bless.
 
 214 DON JUAN. CANTO iv. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Mix'd in each other's arms, and heart in heart, 
 Why did they not then die? -they had lived too long 
 
 Should an hour come to bid them breathe apart; 
 Years could but bring them cruel things or wrong, 
 
 The world was not for them, nor the world's art 
 For beings passionate as Sappho's song; 
 
 Love was born with them, in them, so intense, 
 
 It was their very spirit not a sense. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 They should have lived together deep in woods, 
 Unseen as sings the nightingale ; they were 
 
 Unfit to mix in these thick solitudes 
 Call'd social, where all vice and hatred are ; 
 
 How lonely every freeborn creature broods ! 
 The sweetest song-birds nestle in a pair ; 
 
 The eagle soars alone ; the gull and crow 
 
 Flock o'er their carrion, just as mortals do. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Now pillow'd cheek to cheek, in loving sleep, 
 
 Haidee and Juan their siesta took, 
 A gentle slumber, but it was not deep, 
 
 For ever and anon a something shook 
 Juan, and shuddering o'er his frame would creep ; 
 
 And Haidee's sweet lips murmur'd like a brook 
 A wordless music, and her face so fair 
 Stirr'd with her dream as rose-leaves with the air;
 
 ANTO IV. DON JUAN. 215 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Or as the stirring of a deep clear stream 
 Within an Alpine hollow, when the wind 
 
 Walks over it, was she shaken by the dream, 
 The mystical usurper of the mind 
 
 O'erpowering us to be whate'er may seem 
 Good to the soul which we no more can bind; 
 
 Strange state of being ! (for 'tis still to be) 
 
 Senseless to feel, and with seal'd eyes to see. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 She dreatn'd of being alone on the sea-shore, 
 
 'Chain'd to a rock ; she knew not how, but stir 
 She could not from the spot, and the loud roar 
 
 Grew, and each wave rose roughly, threatening her ; 
 And o'er her upper lip they seem'd to pour, 
 
 Until she sobb'd for breath, and soon they were 
 Foaming o'er her lone head, so fierce and high 
 Each broke to drown her, yet she could not die. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Anon she was released, and then she stray'd 
 O'er the sharp shingles with her bleeding feet, 
 
 And stumbled almost every step she made; 
 And something roll'd before her in a sheet, 
 
 Which she must still pursue howe'er afraid j 
 'Twas white and indistinct, nor stopp'd to meet 
 
 Her glance nor grasp, for still she gazed and grasp'd, 
 
 And ran, but it escaped her as she clasp'd.
 
 216 DON JUAN. CANTO iv. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 The dream changed : in a cave she stood, its walls 
 Were hung with marble icicles the work 
 
 Of ages on its water-fretted halls, 
 Where waves might wash, and seals might breed and 
 lurk ; 
 
 Her hair was dripping, and the very balls 
 
 Of her black eyes seem'd turn'd to tears, and murk 
 
 The sharp rocks look'd below each drop they caught, 
 
 Which froze to marble as it fell, she thought. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 And wet, and cold, and lifeless at her feet, 
 Pale as the foam that froth'd on his dead brow, 
 
 Which she essay'd in vain to clear, (how sweet 
 Were once her cares, how idle seem'd they now !) 
 
 Lay Juan, nor could aught renew the beat 
 Of his quench'd heart; and the sea dirges low 
 
 Hang in her sad ears like a mermaid's song, 
 
 And that brief dream appear'd a life too long. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 And gazing on the dead, she thought his face 
 
 Faded, or alter'd into something new 
 Like to her father's features, till each trace 
 
 More like and like to Lambro's aspect grew 
 With all his keen worn look and Grecian grace ; 
 
 And starting, she awoke, and what to view? 
 Oh ! Powers of Heaven ! what dark eye meets she there ? 
 Tis 'tis her father's fix'd upon the pair !
 
 CANTO iv. DON JUAN. 2 1 1 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Then shrieking she arose, and shrieking fell, 
 With joy and sorrow, hope and fear, to see 
 
 Him whom she deem'd a habitant where dwell 
 The ocean-buried, risen from death, to be 
 
 Perchance the death of one she loved too well : 
 Dear as her father had been to Haidee, 
 
 It was a moment of that awful kind 
 
 I have seen such but must not call to mind. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 Up Juan sprung to Haidee's bitter shriek, 
 And caught her falling, and from off the wall 
 
 Snatch'd down his sabre, in hot haste to wreak 
 Vengeance on him who was the cause of all : 
 
 Then Lambro, who till now forbore to speak, 
 Smiled scornfully, and said, " Within my call, 
 
 " A thousand scimitars await the word ; 
 
 " Put up, young man, put up your silly sword.'" 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 And Haidee clung around him ; "Juan, 'tis 
 " 'Tis Lambro 'tis my father ! Kneel with me- 
 
 " He will forgive us yes it must be yes. 
 " Oh ! dearest father, in this agony 
 
 " Of pleasure and of pain even while I kiss 
 " Thy garment's hem with transport, can it be 
 
 " That doubt should mingle with my filial joy ? 
 
 " Deal with me as thou wilt, but spare this boy."
 
 3 18 DON JUAN. CANTO iv. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 High and inscrutable the old man stood, 
 Calm in his voice, and calm within his eye 
 
 Not always signs with him of calmest mood ; 
 He looked upon her, but gave no reply ; 
 
 Then turu'd to Juan, in whose cheek the blood 
 Oft came and went, as there resolved to die; 
 
 In arms, at least, he stood, in act to spring 
 
 On the first foe whom Lambro's call might bring. 
 
 XL. 
 
 " Young man, your sword ;" so Lambro once more said : 
 Juan replied, " Not while this arm is free." 
 
 The old man's cheek grew pale, but not with dread, 
 And drawing from his belt a pistol, he 
 
 Replied, " Your blood be then on your own head. 1 ' 
 Then look'd close at the flint, as if to see 
 
 'Twas fresh for he had lately used the lock 
 
 And next proceeded quietly to cock. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 It has a strange quick jar upon the ear, 
 That cocking of a pistol, when you know 
 
 A moment more will bring the sight to bear 
 Upon your person, twelve yards off, or so ; 
 
 A gentlemanly distance, not too near, 
 If you have got a former friend for foe , 
 
 But after being fired at once or twice, 
 
 The ear becomes more Irish, and less nice.
 
 CANTO iv. DON JUAN. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 Lambro presented, and one instant more 
 
 Had stopp'd this Canto, and Don Juan's breath, 
 
 When Haidee threw herself her boy before ; 
 Stern as her sire : " On me," she cried, " let death 
 
 "Descend the fault is mine; this fatal shora 
 
 " He found but sought not. I have pledged my faith ; 
 
 '* I love him I will die with him ; I knew 
 
 " Your nature's firmness know your daughter's too.' 1 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 A minute past, and she had been all tears, 
 
 And tenderness, and infancy : but now 
 She stood as one who champion'd human fears- 
 
 Pale, statue-like, and stern, she woo'd the blow ; 
 And tall beyond her sex, and their compeers, 
 
 She drew up to her height, as if to show 
 A fairer mark ; and with a fix'd eye scann'd 
 Her father's face but never stopp'd his hand. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 He gazed on her, and she on him ; 'twas strange 
 How like they look'd! the expression was the same; 
 
 Serenely savage, with a little change 
 In the large dark eye's mutual-darted flame; 
 
 For she too was as one who could avenge, 
 If cause should be a lioness, though tame : 
 
 Her father's blood before her father's face 
 
 Boil'd up, and proved her truly of his race.
 
 220 DON JUAN. 
 
 CANTO IV. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 I said they were alike, their features and 
 Their stature differing but in sex and years ; 
 
 Even to the delicacy of their hands 
 There was resemblance, such as true blood wears ; 
 
 And now to see them, thus divided, stand 
 In fix'd ferocity, when joyous tears, 
 
 And sweet sensations, should have welcomed both. 
 
 Show what the passions are in their full growth. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 The father paused a moment, then withdrew 
 His weapon, and replaced it, but stood still, 
 
 And looking on her, as to look her through, 
 
 " Not 7," he said, " have sought this stranger's ill 
 
 " Not / have made this desolation : few 
 
 " Would bear such outrage, and forbear to kill ; 
 
 " But I must do my dutyhow thou hast 
 
 " Done thine, the present vouches for the past. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 " Let him disarm ; or, by my father's head, 
 " His own shall roll before you like a ball !" 
 
 He raised his whistle, as the word he said, 
 And blew; another answer'd to the call, 
 
 And rushing in disorderly, though led, 
 And ann'd from boot to turban, one and all, 
 
 Some twenty of his train came, rank on rank ; 
 
 He gave the word, " Arrest or slay the Frank."
 
 CANTO iv. DON JUAN. 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 Then, with a sudden movement, he withdrew 
 
 His daughter ; while compress'd within his grasp, 
 
 'Twixt her and Juan interposed the crew; 
 In vain she struggled in her fathers grasp 
 
 His arms were like a serpent's coil; then flew 
 Upon their prey, as darts an angry asp, 
 
 The file of pirates ; save the foremost, who 
 
 Had fallen, with his right shoulder half cut through. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 The second had his cheek laid open ; but 
 
 The third, a wary, cool old sworder, took 
 The blows upon his cutlass, and then put 
 
 His own well in ; so well, ere you could look, 
 His man was floor'd, and helpless at his foot, 
 
 With the blood running like a little brook 
 From two smart sabre gashes, deep and red 
 
 One on the arm, the other on the head. 
 
 L. 
 
 And then they bound him where he fell, and bore 
 Juan from the apartment : with a sign 
 
 Old Lambro bade them take him to the shore, 
 Where lay some ships which were to sail at nine. 
 
 They laid him in a boat, and plied the oar 
 
 Until they reach' d some galliots, placed in line ; 
 
 On board of one of these, and under hatches, 
 
 They stow'd him, with strict orders to the watches.
 
 222 DON JUAN. CANTO iv. 
 
 LI. 
 
 The world is full of strange vicissitudes, 
 And here was one exceedingly unpleasant: 
 
 A gentleman so rich in the world's goods, 
 Handsome and young, enjoying all the present, 
 
 Just at the very time when he least broods 
 On such a thing, is suddenly to sea sent, 
 
 Wounded and chain'd, so that he cannot move. 
 
 And all because a lady fell in love. 
 
 LII. 
 
 Here I must leave him, for I grow pathetic, 
 
 Moved by the Chinese nymph of tears, green tea ! 
 
 Than whom Cassandra was not more prophetic ; 
 For if ray pure libations exceed three, 
 
 I feel my heart become so sympathetic, 
 That I must have recourse to black Bohea ; 
 
 Tis pity wine should be so deleterious, 
 
 For tea and coffee leave us much more serious. 
 
 Lin. 
 
 Unless when qualified with thee, Cogniac ! 
 
 Sweet NaYad of the Phlegethontic rill ! 
 Ah ! why the liver wilt thou thus attack, 
 
 And make, like other nymphs, thy lovers ill? 
 I would take refuge in weak punch, but rack 
 
 (In each sense of the word), whene'er I fill 
 My mild and midnight beakers to the brim, 
 Wakes me next morning with its synonym.
 
 CANTO iv. DON JUAN. 223 
 
 LIV. 
 I leave Don Juan for the present, safe 
 
 Not sound, poor fellow, but severely wounded ! 
 Yet could his corporal pangs amount to half 
 
 Of those with which his Haidee's bosom bounded ! 
 She was not one to weep, and rave, and chafe, 
 
 And then give way, subdued because surrounded, 
 Her mother was a Moorish maid, from Fez, 
 Where all is Eden, or a wilderness. 
 
 LV. 
 
 There the large olive rains its amber store 
 In marble fonts ; there grain, and flower, and fruit, 
 
 Gush from the earth until the land runs o'er ; 
 But there too many a poison-tree has root, 
 
 And midnight listens to the lion's roar, 
 
 And long, long deserts scorch the camel's foot, 
 
 Or heaving whelm the helpless caravan, 
 
 And as the soil is, so the heart of man. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 Afric is all the sun's, and as her earth 
 Her human clay is kindled ; full of power 
 
 For good or evil, burning from its birth, 
 The Moorish blood partakes the planet's hour, 
 
 And like the soil beneath it will bring forth : 
 Beauty and love were Haidee's mother's dower ; 
 
 But her large dark eye show'd deep Passion's force, 
 
 Though sleeping like a lion near a source.
 
 224 DON JUAN- CANTO IV. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 Her daughter temper'd with a milder ray, 
 Like summer clouds all silvery, smooth, and fair, 
 
 Till slowly charged with thunder they display 
 Terror to earth, and tempest to the air, 
 
 Had held till now her soft and milky way ; 
 But overwrought with passion and despair 
 
 The fire burst forth from her Numidian veins, 
 
 Even as the Simoom sweeps the blasted plains. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 The last sight which she saw was Juan's gore, 
 And he himself o'ermaster'd and cut down ; 
 
 H is blood was running on the very floor 
 Where late he trod, her beautiful, her own ; 
 
 Thus much she view'd an instant and no more, 
 Her struggles ceased with one convulsive groan ; 
 
 On her sire's arm, which until now scarce held 
 
 Her writhing, fell she like a ceder fell'd. 
 
 L1X. 
 
 A vein had burst, and her sweet lips' pure dyes (2) 
 Were dabbled with the deep blood which ran o'er; 
 
 And her head droop'd as when the lily lies 
 
 O'ercharged with rain j her summon'd handmaids bore 
 
 Their lady to her couch with gushing eyes; 
 
 Of herbs and cordials they produced their store, 
 
 But she defied all means they could employ, 
 
 Like one life could not hold, nor death destroy.
 
 CANTO iv. DON JUAN. 225 
 
 LX. 
 
 Days lay she in that state unchanged, though chill, 
 With nothing livid, still her lips were red; 
 
 She had no pulse, but death seemM absent still; 
 No hideous sign proclaim'd her surely dead ; 
 
 Corruption came not, in each mind to kill 
 All hope ; to look upon her sweet face bred 
 
 New thoughts of life, for it seem'd full of soul, 
 
 She had so much, earth could not claim the whole. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 The ruling passion, such as marble shows 
 When exquisitely chisell'd, still lay there, 
 
 But fix'd as marble's unchanged aspect throws 
 O'er the fair Venus, but for ever fair, 
 
 O'er the Laocoon's all eternal throes, 
 And ever-dying Gladiator's air, 
 
 Their energy like life forms all their fame, 
 
 Yet looks not life, for they are still the same. 
 
 LXIT. 
 
 She woke at length, but not as sleepers wake, 
 Rather the dead, for life seem'd something new, 
 
 A strange sensation which she must partake 
 Perforce, since whatsoever met her view 
 
 Struck not on memory, though a heavy ache 
 Lay at her heart, whose earliest beat still true 
 
 Brought back the sense of pain without the cause, 
 
 For, for a while, the furies made a pause. 
 VOL. i. Q
 
 ?26 DON JUAN. CANTO iv. 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 She look'd on many a face with vacant eye, 
 On many a token without knowing what ; 
 
 She saw them watch her without asking why, 
 And reck'd not who around her pillow sat ; 
 
 Not speechless though she spoke not ; not a sigh 
 Relieved her thoughts ; dull silence and quick'ehat 
 
 Were tried in vain by those who served ; she gave 
 
 No sign, save breath, of having left the grave. 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 Her handmaids tended, but she heeded not; 
 
 Her father watch'd, she turn'd her eyes away ; 
 She recognised no being, and no spot 
 
 However dear or cherish'd in their day ; 
 They changed from room to room, but all forgot, 
 
 Gentle, but without memory she lay ; 
 And yet those eyes, which they would fain be weaning 
 Back to old thoughts, seem'd full of fearful meaning. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 At last a slave bethought her of a harp; 
 
 The harper came, and tuned his instrument ; 
 At the first notes irregular and sharp, 
 
 On him her flashing eyes a moment bent, 
 Then to the wall she turn'd as if to warp 
 
 Her thoughts from sorrow through her heart re-sent, 
 And he begun a long low island song 
 Of ancient days, ere tyranny grew strong.
 
 CANTO iv. DON JUAN. 227 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 Anon her thin wan fingers beat the wall 
 
 In time to his old tune ; he changed the theme, 
 
 And sung of love ; the fierce name struck through all 
 Her recollection ; on her flash'd the dream 
 
 Of what she was, and is, if ye could call 
 To be so being ; in a gushing stream 
 
 The tears rush'd forth from her o'erclouded brain, 
 
 Like mountain mists at length dissolved in rain. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 Short solace, vain relief! thought came too quick, 
 And whirl'd her brain to madness ; she arose 
 
 As one who ne'er had dwelt among the sick, 
 And flew at all she met, as on her foes ; 
 
 But no one ever heard her speak or shriek, 
 Although her paroxysm drew towards its close : 
 
 Hers was a phrensy which disdain'd to rave, 
 
 Even when they smote her, in the hope to save. 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 Yet she betray'd at times a gleam of sense ; 
 
 Nothing could make her meet her father's face, 
 Though on all other things with looks intense 
 
 She gazed, but none she ever could retrace ; 
 Food she refused, and raiment; no pretence 
 
 Avail'd for either ; neither change of place, 
 Nor time, nor skill, nor remedy, could give her 
 Senses to sleep- the power seem'd gone for ever.
 
 228 DON JUAN. CANTO iv. 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 Twelve days and nights she wither'd thus; at last, 
 Without a groan, or sigh, or glance, to show 
 
 A parting pang, the spirit from her past : 
 
 And they who watch'd her nearest could not know 
 
 The very instant, till the change that cast 
 Her sweet face into shadow, dull and slow 
 
 Glazed o'er her eyes the beautiful, the black 
 
 Oh ! to possess such lustre and then lack ! 
 
 LXX. 
 
 She died, but not alone j she held within 
 A second principle of life, which might 
 
 Have dawn'd a fair and sinless child of sin ; 
 But closed its little being without light, 
 
 And went down to the grave unborn, wherein 
 Blossom and bough lie wither'd with one blight ; 
 
 In vain the dews of Heaven descend above 
 
 The bleeding flower and blasted fruit of love- 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 Thus lived thus died she ; never more on her 
 Shall sorrow light, or shame. She was not made 
 
 Through years or moons the inner weight to bear. 
 Which colder hearts endure till they are laid 
 
 By age in earth ; her days and pleasures were 
 Brief, but delightful such as had not staid 
 
 Long with her destiny; but she sleeps well 
 
 By the sea-shore, whereon she loved to dwell.
 
 CANTO iv. DON JUAN. 229 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 That isle is now all desolate and bare, 
 Its dwellings down, its tenants past away ; 
 
 None but her own and father's grave is there, 
 And nothing outward tells of human clay ; 
 
 Ye could not know where lies a thing so fair, 
 No stone is there to show, no tongue to say 
 
 What was; no dirge, except the hollow sea's, 
 
 Mourns o'er the beauty of the Cyclades. 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 But many a Greek maid in a loving song 
 Sighs o'er her name ; and many an islander 
 
 With her sire's story makes the night less long; 
 Valour was his, and beauty dwelt with her ; 
 
 If she loved rashly, her life paid for wrong 
 A heavy price must all pay who thus err, 
 
 In some shape; let none think to fly the danger, 
 
 For soon or late Love is his own avenger. 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 But let me change this theme, which grows too sad, 
 And lay this sheet of sorrows on the shelf; 
 
 I don't much like describing people mad, 
 
 For fear of seeming rather touch'd myself 
 
 Besides I 've no more on this head to add ; 
 And as my Muse is a capricious elf, 
 
 We'll put about, and try another tack 
 
 With Juan, left half-kill'd some stanzas back.
 
 230 DON JUAN. CANTO IV. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 Wounded and fetter'd, " cabin'd, cribb'd, confined," 
 
 Some days and nights elapsed before that he 
 Could altogether call the past to mind ; 
 
 And when he did, he found himself at sea, 
 Sailing six knots an hour before the wind ; 
 
 The shores of Ilion lay beneath their lee- 
 Another time he might have liked to see 'em, 
 But now was not much pleased with Cape Sigaeum. 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 There, on the green and village-cotted hill, is 
 (Flank'd by the Hellespont, and by the sea) 
 
 Entomb'd the bravest of the brave, Achilles ; 
 They say so (Bryant says the contrary) : 
 
 And further downward, tall and towering still, is 
 The tumulus of whom ? Heaven knows ; 't may be 
 
 Patroclus, Ajax, or Protesilaus ; 
 
 All heroes who if living still would slay us. 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 High barrows, without marble, or a name, 
 A vast, untill'd, and mountain-skirted plain, 
 
 And Ida in the distance, still the same, 
 And old Scamander, (if 'tis he) remain ; 
 
 The situation seems still form'd for fame 
 A hundred thousand men might fight again 
 
 With ease ; but where I sought for Ilion's walls, 
 
 The quiet sheep feeds, and the tortoise crawls ;
 
 CANTO iv. DON JUAN. 231 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 Troops of untended horses ; here and there 
 Some little hamlets with new names uncouth ; 
 
 Some shepherds, (unlike Paris) led to stare 
 A moment at the European youth 
 
 Whom to the spot their school-boy feelings bear. 
 A Turk, with beads iu hand, and pipe in mouth, 
 
 Extremely taken with his own religion, 
 
 Are what I found there but the devil a Phrygian. 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 Don Juan here permitted to emerge 
 
 From his dull cabin, found himself a slave ; 
 
 Forlorn, and gazing on the deep blue surge, 
 O'ershadow'd there by many a hero's grave ; 
 
 Weak still with loss of blood, he scarce could urge 
 A few brief questions ; and the answers gave 
 
 No very satisfactory information 
 
 About his" past or present situation. 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 He saw some fellow captives, who appear'd 
 To be Italians, as they were in fact ; 
 
 From them, at least, their destiny he heard, 
 Which was an odd one ; a troop going to act 
 
 In Sicily all singers, duly rear'd 
 In their vocation ; had not been attack'd 
 
 In sailing from Livorno by the pirate, 
 
 But sold by the impresario at no high rate. (3)
 
 232 DON JUAN. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 By one of these, the buffo of the party, 
 Juan was told about their curious case ; 
 
 For although destined to the Turkish mart, he 
 Still kept his spirits up at least his face; 
 
 The little fellow really look'd quite hearty, 
 And bore him with some gaiety and grace, 
 
 Showing a much more reconciled demeanour 
 
 Than did the prima dcnna and the tenor. 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 In a few words he told their hapless story, 
 Saying, " Our Machiavelian impresario, 
 
 " Making a signal off some promontory, 
 
 " Hail'd a strange brig ; Corpo di Caio Mario I 
 
 " We were transferred on board her in a hurry, 
 " Without a single scudo of salario ; 
 
 " But if the Sultan has a taste for song, 
 
 " We will revive our fortunes before long. 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 " The prima donna, though a little old 
 
 " And haggard with a dissipated life, 
 " And subject, when the house is thin, to cold, 
 
 " Has some good notes ; and then the tenor's wife, 
 " With no great voice, is pleasing to behold ; 
 
 " Last carnival she made a deal of strife 
 " By carrying off Count Cesare Cicogna 
 " From an old Roman princess at Bologna.
 
 CANTO iv. DON JUAN. 233 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 " And then there are the dancers ; there 's the Nini, 
 " With more than one profession gains by all ; 
 
 " Then there's that laughing slut the Pelegrini, 
 " She too was fortunate last carnival, 
 
 " And made at least five hundred good zecchini, 
 " But spends so fast she has not now a paul ; 
 
 " And then there's the Grotesca such a dancer ! 
 
 " Where men have souls or bodies she must answer- 
 
 LXXXV. 
 ''As for the figuranti, they are like 
 
 " The rest of all that tribe ; with here and there 
 " A pretty person, which perhaps may strike, 
 
 "The rest are hardly fitted for a fair; 
 " There's one, though tall and stiffer than a pike, 
 
 " Yet has a sentimental kind of air 
 " Which might go far, but she don't dance with vigour, 
 " The more's the pity, with her face and figure. 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 " As for the men, they are a middling set ; 
 
 " The Musico is but a crack'd old basin, 
 " But being qualified in one way yet, 
 
 " May the seraglio do to set his face in, 
 " And as a servant some preferment get ; 
 
 " His singing I no further trust can place in : 
 " From all the pope (4) makes yearly 'twould perplex 
 " To find three perfect pipes of the third sex.
 
 234 DON JUAN. CANTO iv. 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 "The tenor's voice is spoilt by affectation, 
 " And for the bass, the beast can only bellow ; 
 
 " In fact, he had no singing education, 
 " An ignorant, noteless, timeless, tuneless fellow ; 
 
 ' But being the prima donna's near relation, 
 " Who swore his voice was very rich and mellow, 
 
 " They hired him, though to hear him you'd believe 
 
 " An ass was practising recitative. 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 " 'T would not become myself to dwell upon 
 " My own merits, and though young I see, Sir you 
 
 " Have got a travell'd air, which shows you one 
 " To whom the opera is by no means new : 
 
 " You've heard of Raucocanti? I'm the man ; 
 " The time may come when you may hear me too ; 
 
 " You was not last year at the fair of Lugo, 
 
 " But next, when I'm engaged to sing there do go. 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 " Our baritone I almost had forgot, 
 
 "A pretty lad, but bursting with conceit; 
 
 " With graceful action, science not a jot, 
 " A voice of no great compass, and not sweet, 
 
 " He always is complaining of his lot, 
 " Forsooth, scarce fit for ballads in the street ; 
 
 " In lovers' parts his passion more to breathe, 
 
 " Having no heart to show, he shows his teeth,"
 
 CANTO iv. DON JUAN. 235 
 
 XC. 
 
 Here Raucocanti's eloquent recital 
 
 Was interrupted by the pirate crew, 
 Who came at stated moments to invite all 
 
 The captives back to their sad births ; each threw 
 A rueful glance upon the waves (which bright all 
 
 From the blue skies derived a double blue, 
 Dancing all free and happy in the sun), 
 And then went down the hatchway one by one. 
 
 XCT. 
 
 They heard next day that in the Dardanelles, 
 
 Waiting for his sublimity's firman, 
 The most imperative of sovereign spells, 
 
 Which every body does without who can, 
 More to secure them in their naval cells, 
 
 Lady to lady, well as man to man, 
 Were to be chain'd and lotted out per couple, 
 For the slave market of Constantinople. 
 
 XCII. 
 
 It seems when this allotment was made out, 
 There chanced to be an odd male, and odd female, 
 
 Who (after some discussion and some doubt, 
 If the soprano might be doom'd to be male, 
 
 They placed him o'er the women as a scout) 
 Were link'd together, aud it happen'd the male 
 
 Was Juan, who, an awkward thing at his age, 
 
 Pair'd off with a Bacchante blooming visage.
 
 236 DON JUAN. 
 
 XCIII. 
 With Raucocanti lucklessly was chain'd 
 
 The tenor ; these two hated with a hate 
 Found only on the stage, and each more pain'd 
 
 With this his tuneful neighbour than his fate ; 
 Sad strife arose, for they were so cross-grain'd, 
 
 Instead of bearing up withovt debate, 
 That each pull'd different ways with many an oath, 
 " Arcades ambo," id est blackguards both. 
 
 XCIV. 
 
 Juan's companion was a Romagnole, 
 
 But bred within the March of old Ancona, 
 
 With eyes that look'd into the very soul 
 
 (And other chief points of a "bella donna"), 
 
 Bright and as black and burning as a coal ; 
 And through her clear brunette complexion shone a 
 
 Great wish to please a most attractive dower, 
 
 Especially when added to the power. 
 
 xcv. 
 
 But all that power was wasted upon him, 
 For sorrow o'er each sense held stern command ; 
 
 Her eye might flash on his, but found it dim ; 
 And though thus chain'd, as natural her hand 
 
 Touoh'd his, nor that nor any handsome limb 
 (And she had some not easy to withstand) 
 
 Could stir his pulse, or make his faith feel brittle ; 
 
 Perhaps his recent wounds might help a little.
 
 CANTO iv. DON JUAN. 237 
 
 XCVI. 
 
 No matter ; we should ne'er too much inquire, 
 But facts are facts ; no knight could be more true, 
 
 And firmer faith no ladye-love desire ; 
 We will omit the proofs, save one or two : 
 
 Tis said no one in hand " can hold a fire 
 " By thought of frosty Caucasus ;'' but few, 
 
 I really think ; yet Juan's then ordeal 
 
 Was more triumphant, and not much less real. 
 
 XCVII. 
 Here I might enter on a chaste description, 
 
 Having withstood temptation in my youth, 
 But here that several people take exception 
 
 At the first two books having two much truth ; 
 Therefore I '11 make Don Juan leave the ship soon, 
 
 Because the publisher declares, in south, 
 Through needles' eyes it easier for the camel is 
 To pass, than those two cantos into families. 
 
 XCVIII. 
 
 'Tis all the same to me; I 'm fond of yielding, 
 And therefore leave them to the purer page 
 
 Of Smollet, Prior, Ariosto, Fielding, 
 Who says strange things for so correct an age ; 
 
 I once had great alacrity in wielding 
 My pen, and liked poetic war to wage, 
 
 And recollect the time when all this cant 
 
 Would have provoked remarks which now it shan't.
 
 238 DON JUAN. CANTO iv- 
 
 XCIX. 
 
 As boys love rows, my boyhood liked a squabble ; 
 
 But at this hour I wish to part in peace, 
 Leaving such to the literary rabble, 
 
 Whether my verse's fame be doom'd to cease 
 While the right hand that wrote it still is able, 
 
 Or of some centuries to take a lease ; 
 The grass upon my grave will grow as long, 
 And sigh to midnight winds, but not to song. 
 
 C. 
 
 Of poets who come down to us through distance 
 Of time and tongues, the foster-babes of Fame, 
 
 Life seems the smallest portion of existence ; 
 Where twenty ages gather o'er a name, 
 
 'Tis as a snowball which derives assistance 
 From every flake, and yet rolls on the same, 
 
 Even till an iceberg it may chance to grow, 
 
 But after all 'tis nothing but cold snow. 
 
 CI.' 
 
 And so great names are nothing more than nominal, 
 
 And love of glory's but an airy lust, 
 Too often in its fury overcoming all 
 
 Who would as 'twere identify their dust 
 From out the wide destruction, which, entombing all, 
 
 Leaves nothing till the coming of the just 
 Save change j I 've stood upon Achilles' tomb, 
 And heard Troy doubted ; time will doubt of Rome.
 
 CANTO w. DON JUAN. 230 
 
 GIL 
 
 The very generations of the dead 
 Are swept away, and tomb inherits tomb, 
 
 Until the memory of an age is fled, 
 And, buried, sinks beneath its offspring's doom : 
 
 Where are the epitaphs our fathers read ? 
 Save a few glean'd from the sepulchral gloom 
 
 Which once-named myriads nameless lie beneath, 
 
 And lose their own in universal death. 
 
 GUI. 
 
 I canter by the spot each afternoon 
 Where perish'd in his fame the hero-boy, 
 
 Who lived too long for men, but died too soon 
 For human vanity, the young De Foix! 
 
 A broken pillar, not uncouthly hewn, 
 But which neglect is hastening to destroy, 
 
 Records Ravenna's carnage on its face, 
 
 While weeds and ordure rankle round the base. (5) 
 
 CIV. 
 
 I pass each day where Dante's bones are laid : 
 A little cupola, more neat than solemn, 
 
 Protects his dust, but reverence here is paid 
 
 To the bard's tomb, and not the warrior's column 
 
 The time must come, when both alike decayed, 
 The chieftain's trophy, and the poet's volume, 
 
 Will sink where lie the songs and wars of earth, 
 
 Before Pelides' death, or Homer's birth.
 
 240 DON JUAN. CANTO iv. 
 
 CV. 
 With human blood that column was cemented, 
 
 With human filth that column is defiled, 
 As if the peasant's coarse contempt were vented 
 
 To shew his loathing of the spot he soil'd ; 
 Thus is the trophy used, and thus lamented 
 
 Should ever be those blood-hounds, from whose wU d 
 Instinct of gore and glory earth has known 
 Those sufferings Danle saw in hell alone. 
 
 CVI. 
 
 Yet there will still be bards ; though fame is smoke, 
 Its fumes 'are frankincense to human thought ; 
 
 And the unquiet feelings, which first woke 
 
 Song in the world, will seek what then they sought ; 
 
 As on the beach the waves at last are broke, 
 Thus to their extreme verge the passions brought 
 
 Dash into poetry, which is but passion, 
 
 Or at least was so ere it grew a fashion. 
 
 CV1I. 
 
 If in the course of such a life as was 
 At once adventurous and contemplative, 
 
 Men who partake all passions as they pass, 
 Acquire the deep and bitter power to give 
 
 Their images again as in a glass, 
 
 And in such colours that they seem to live ; 
 
 You may do right forbidding them to show 'em, 
 
 But spoil (I think) a very pretty poem.
 
 CANTO IV. DON JUAN. 241 
 
 CVIII. 
 
 Oh ! ye, who make the fortunes of all books ! 
 
 Benign ceruleans of the second sex ! 
 Who advertise new poems by your looks, 
 
 Your " imprimatur" will ye not annex, 
 What, must I go to the oblivious cooks, 
 
 Those Cornish plunderers of Parnassian wrecks ? 
 Ah! must I then the only minstrel be, 
 Proscribed from tasting your Castalian tea ! 
 
 CIX. 
 What, can I prove " a lion'' then no more ? 
 
 A ball-room bard, a foolscap, hot-press darling ? 
 To bear the compliments of many a bore, 
 
 And sigh, " I can't get out,' 1 like Yorick's starling? 
 Why then I'll swear, as poet Wordy swore, 
 
 (Because the world won't read him, always snarling) 
 That taste is gone, that fame is but a lottery, 
 Drawn by the blue-coat misses of a coterie. 
 
 CX. 
 
 Oh ! " darkly, deeply, beautifully blue," 
 As some one somewhere sings about the sky, 
 
 And I, ye learned ladies, say of you; 
 
 They say your stockings are so (Heaven knows why, 
 
 I have examined few pair of that hue) ; 
 Blue as the garters which serenely lie 
 
 Round the Patrician left-legs, which adorn 
 
 The festal midnight, and the levee morn. 
 
 VOL. I, K
 
 242 DON JUAN. CANTO IV. 
 
 CXI. 
 
 Vet some of you are most seraphic creatures 
 But times are alter'd since, a rhyming lover, 
 
 You read my stanzas, and I read your features : 
 And but no matter, all those things are over ; 
 
 Still I have no dislike to learned natures, 
 For sometimes such a world of virtues cover ; 
 
 I know one woman of that purple school, 
 
 The loveliest, chastest, best, but quite a fool. 
 
 CXII 
 
 Humboldt, " the first of travellers," but not 
 
 The last, if late accounts be accurate, 
 Invented, by some name I have forgot, 
 
 As well as the sublime discovery's date, 
 An airy instrument, with which he sought 
 
 To ascertain the atmospheric state, 
 By measuring " the intensity i-fllue :" 
 Oh, Lady Daphne ! let me measure you ! 
 
 CX1II. 
 
 But to the narrative : the vessel bound 
 
 With slaves to sell off in the capital, 
 After the usual process, might be found 
 
 At anchor under the seraglio wall ; 
 Her cargo, from the plague being safe and sound, 
 
 Were landed in the market, one and all, 
 And there with Georgians, Russians, and Circassians, 
 Bought up for different purposes and passions.
 
 CANTO iv. DON JUAN 
 
 CXIV. 
 
 Some went off dearly ; fifteen hundred dollars 
 For one Circassian, a sweeA girl, were given, 
 
 AVarranted virgin ; beauty's brightest colours 
 Had deck'd her out in all the hues of heaven : 
 
 Her sale sent home some disappointed bawlers, 
 Who bade on till the Hundreds reach'd eleven ; 
 
 But when the offer went beyond, they knew 
 
 'Twas for the Sultan, and at once withdrew. 
 
 cxv. 
 
 Twelve negresses from Nubia brought a price 
 
 Which the West Indian market scarce could bring ; 
 
 Though Wilberforce, at last, has made it twice 
 What 'twas ere abolition ; and the thing 
 
 Need not seem very wonderful, for vice 
 Is always much more splendid than a king : 
 
 The virtues, even the most exalted, Charity, 
 
 Are saving vice spares nothing for a rarity. 
 
 CXVI. 
 
 But for the destiny of this young troop, 
 
 How some were bought by pachas, some by Jews, 
 
 How some to burdens were obliged to stoop, 
 And others rose to the command of crews 
 
 As reziegadoes ; while in hapless group, 
 Hoping no very old vizier might choose, 
 
 The females stood, as one by one they pick'd 'em, 
 
 To make a mistress, or fourth wife, or victim :
 
 244 DON JUAN. CANTO IV. 
 
 CXVII. 
 
 All this must be reserved for further song; 
 
 Also our hero's lot, howe'er unpleasant, 
 (Because this Canto has become too long) 
 
 Must be postponed discreetly for the present; 
 I 'm sensible redundancy is wrong, 
 
 But could not for the muse of me put less in't : 
 And now delay the progress of Don Juan, 
 Till what is call'd in Ossian the fifth Duau.
 
 NOTES TO CANTO IV. 
 
 Note 1, page 209, stanza xii. 
 " Whom the gods love die young" was said ff yore. 
 See Herodotus. 
 
 Note 2, page 225, stanza lix. 
 
 A vein had burst. 
 
 This is no very uncommon effect of the violence of conflicting 
 and different passions. The Doge Francis Foscari, on his de- 
 position in 1457, hearing the bells of St. Mark announce the 
 election of his successor, " mourut subitement d'une hemorragie 
 eausee par une veine qui s'ecldta dans sa poitrine," (see Sis- 
 mondi and Daru, vols. i. and ii.) at the age of eighty years, when 
 " Who would have thought the old man had so much blood in 
 him ?" Before I was sixteen years of age, I was witness to a 
 melancholy instance of the same effect of mixed passions upon 
 a young person ; who, however, did not die in consequence, at 
 that time, but fell a victim some years afterwards to a seizure 
 of the same kind, arising from causes intimately connected with 
 agitation of mind. 
 
 Note 8, page 231, stanza Ixxx. 
 But sold by the impresario at no high rate. 
 This is a fact. A few years ago a man engaged a company 
 for tome foreign theatre ; embarked thrm at an Italian port,
 
 46 NOTES TO CANTO IV. 
 
 and carrying them to Algiers, sold them all. One of the women, 
 returned from her captivity, I heard sing, by a strange coinci- 
 dence, in Rossini's opera of " L'ltaliana in Algeri," at Venice, 
 in the beginning of 1817. 
 
 Note 4, page 233, stanza Ixxxvi. 
 
 " From all the pope makes yearly 'twould perplex 
 " To find three perfect pipes of the third sex. 
 
 It is strange that it should be the Pope and the Sultan who 
 are the chief encouragers of this branch of trade women being 
 prohibited as singers at St. Peter's, and not 'deemed trust-worthy 
 as guardians of the haram. 
 
 Note 5, page 239, stanza ciii. 
 While weeds and ordure rankle round the base 
 Tha pillar which records the battle of Ravenna is about two 
 miles from the city, on the opposite side of the river to the road 
 towards Forli. Gaston de Foix, who gained the battle, was 
 killed in it; there fell on both sides twenty thousand men. The 
 present state of the pillar and its site is described in the text.
 
 DON JUAN. 
 
 CANTO V.
 
 DON JUAN. 
 
 CANTO V. 
 
 I. 
 WHEN amatory poets sing their loves 
 
 In liquid lines mellifluously bland, 
 And praise their rhymes as Venus yokes her doves, 
 
 They little think what mischief is in hand ; 
 The greater their success the worse it proves, 
 
 As Ovid's verse may make you understand; 
 Even Petrarch's self, if judged with due severity, 
 Is the Platonic pimp of all posterity. 
 
 II. 
 
 I therefore do denounce all amorous writing, 
 Except in such a way as not to attract ; 
 
 Plain simple short, and by no means inviting, 
 But with a moral to each error tack'd, 
 
 Form'd rather for instructing than delighting, 
 And with all passions in their turn attack'd ; 
 
 Now, if my Pegasus should not be shod ill, 
 
 This poem will become a moral model.
 
 t'50 DON JUAN. CANTO v 
 
 III. 
 
 The European with the Asian shore 
 
 Sprinkled with palaces ; the ocean stream (l) 
 
 Here and there studded with a seventy-four ; 
 Sophia's cupola with golden gleam ; 
 
 The cypress groves; Olympus high and hoar ; 
 
 The twelve isles, and the more than I could dream, 
 
 Far less describe, present the very view 
 
 Which charm'd the charming Mary Montague. 
 
 IV. 
 
 I have a passion for the name of " Mary," 
 For once it was a magic sound to me ; 
 
 And still it half calls up the realms of fairy, 
 Where I beheld what never was to be ; 
 
 All feelings changed, but this was last to vary, 
 A spell from which even yet I am not quite free : 
 
 But I grow sad and let a tale grow cold, 
 
 Which must not be pathetically told. 
 
 V. 
 
 The wind swept down the Euxine, and the wave 
 Broke foaming o'er the blue Symplegades ; 
 
 'Tis a grand sight from off the " Giant's Grave" (2) 
 To watch the progress of those rolling seas 
 
 Between the Bosphorus, as they lash and lave 
 Europe and Asia, you being quite at ease ; 
 
 There's not a sea the passenger e'er pukes in, 
 
 Turns up more dangerous breakers than the Euxiue.
 
 CANTO v. DON JUAN. 251 
 
 VI. 
 
 Twas a raw day of Autumn's blsak beginning, 
 When nights are equal, but not so the days ; 
 
 The Parcse then cut short the further spinning 
 Of seamen's fates, and the loud tempests raise 
 
 The waters, and repentance for past sinning 
 In all, who o'er the great deep take their ways : 
 
 They vow to amend their lives, and yet they don't 
 
 Because if drown'd, they can't if spared, they won't. 
 
 VII. 
 
 A crowd of shivering slaves of every nation, 
 And age, and sex, were in the market ranged; 
 
 Each bevy with the merchant in his station : 
 Poor creatures ! their good looks were sadly changed. 
 
 All save the blacks seem'd jaded with vexation 
 
 From friends, and home, and freedom far estranged ; 
 
 The negroes more philosophy display'd, 
 
 Used to it, no doubt, as eels are to be flay'd. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Juan was juvenile, and thus was full, 
 
 As most at his age are, of hope, and health ; 
 
 Yet I must own, he look'd a little dull, 
 And now and then a tear stole down by stealth ; 
 
 Perhaps his recent loss of blood might pull 
 His spirit down ; and then the loss of wealth, 
 
 A mistress, and such comfortable quarters 
 
 To be put up for auction amongst Tartars.
 
 952 DON JUAN. CANTO v, 
 
 IX. 
 
 Were things to shake a stoic; ne'ertheless, 
 Upon the whole his carriage was serene : 
 
 His figure, and the splendour of his dress, 
 Of which some gilded remnants still were seen, 
 
 Drew all ey?s on him, giving them to guess 
 He was above the vulgar by his mien ; 
 
 And then, though pale, he was so very handsome ; 
 
 And then they calculated on his ransom. 
 
 X. 
 
 Like a backgammon board the place was dotted 
 With whites and blacks, in groups on show for sale, 
 
 Though rather more irregularly spotted : 
 
 Some bought the jet, while others chose the pale. 
 
 It chanced amongst the other people lotted, 
 A man of thirty, rather stout and hale, 
 
 With resolution in his dark gray eye, 
 
 Next Juan stood, till some might choose to buy. 
 
 XL 
 
 He had an English look ; that is, was square 
 In make, of a complexion white and ruddy, 
 
 Good teeth, with curling rather dark brown hair, 
 And, it might be from thought, or toil, or study, 
 
 An open brow a little mark'd with care : 
 One arm had on a bandage rather bloody ; 
 
 And there he stood with such sang-froid that greater 
 
 Could scarce be shown even by a mere spectator.
 
 CANTO v. DON JUAN. 253 
 
 XII. 
 
 But seeing at his elbow a mere lad, 
 
 Of a high spirit evidently, though 
 At present weigh'd down by a doom which had 
 
 O'erthrown even men, he soon began to show 
 A kind of blunt compassion for the sad 
 
 Lot of so young a partner in the woe, 
 Which for himself he seem'd to deem no worse 
 Than any other scrape, a thing of course. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 " My boy !" said he, " amidst this motley crew 
 " Of Georgians, Russians, Nubians, and what not, 
 
 " All ragamuffins differing but in hue, 
 '' With whom it is our luck to cast our lot, 
 
 " The only gentlemen seem I and you ; 
 " So let us be acquainted as we ought : 
 
 " If I could yield you any consolation, 
 
 " T would give me pleasure- Pray, whatis your nation ?" 
 
 XIV. 
 
 When Juan answered " Spanish!" he replied, 
 " I thought, in fact, you could not be a Greek ; 
 
 " Those servile dogs are not so proudly eyed : 
 " Fortune has play'd you here a pretty freak, 
 
 " But that's her way with all men till they're tried ; 
 " But never mind, she'll turn perhaps, next week , 
 
 " She has served me also much the same as you 
 
 " Except that I have found it nothing new."
 
 DON JUAN. CANTO v. 
 
 XV. 
 
 " Pray, Sir, " said Juan, " if I may presume, 
 " What brought you here?"" Oh ! nothing very rare 
 
 " Six Tartars and a drag-chain "To this doom 
 
 " But what conducted, if the question's fair, 
 
 " Is that which I would learn.'' " I served for some 
 " Months with the Russian army here and there, 
 
 ' And taking lately, by Suwarrow's bidding, 
 
 " A town, WAS ia'en myself instead of Widin." 
 
 XVI. 
 
 " Have you no friends ?'' " I had--but,b } God's blessing, 
 " Have not been troubled with them lately. Now 
 
 " I have answer'd all your questions without pressing, 
 " And you an equal courtesy should show." 
 
 " Alas !" said Juan, " 't were a tale distressing, 
 " And long besides." " Oh ! if 'tis really so, 
 
 " You're right on both accounts to hold your tongue ; 
 
 " A sad tale saddens doubly when 'tis long. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 " But droop not ; Fortune at your time of life, 
 
 " Although a female moderately fickle, 
 " Will hardly leave you (as she's not your wife) 
 
 " For any length of days in such a pickle. 
 " To strive too with our fate were such a strife 
 
 " As if the corn-sheaf should oppose the sickle: 
 " Men are the sport of circumstances, when 
 " The circumstances seem the sport of men."
 
 CANTO v. DON JUAN. 255 
 
 XVIII. 
 " 'Tis not,' 1 said Juan, " for my present doom 
 
 " I mourn, but for the past; I loved a maid:" 
 He paused, and his dark eye grew full of gloom ; 
 
 A single tear upon his eyelash staid 
 A moment and then dropp'd ; " but to resume, 
 
 " 'Tis not my present lot, as I have said, 
 " Which I deplore so much ; for I have borne 
 " Hardships which have the hardiest overworn, 
 
 XIX. 
 
 " On the rough deep. But this last blow " and here 
 He stopp'd again, and turn'd away his face. 
 
 " Ay," quoth his friend, " I thought it would appear 
 " That there had been a lady in the case ; 
 
 " And these are things which ask a tender tear, 
 " Such as I too would shed if in your place : 
 
 " I cried upon my first wife's dying day, 
 
 " And also when my second ran away : 
 
 XX. 
 
 " My third " " Your third !" quoth Juan, turning 
 round ; 
 
 " You scarcely can be thirty; have you three?" 
 " No only two at present above ground : 
 
 " Surely 'tis nothing wonderful to see 
 " One person thrice in holy wedlock bound !" 
 
 " Well, then, your third," said Juan ; " what did she J 
 '' She did not run away, too, did she, sir;" 
 " No, faith." " What then !" " I ran away from her."
 
 256 DON JUAN. CANTO V 
 
 XXI. 
 
 " You take things coolly, sir," said Juan. " Why,'' 
 Replied the other " what can a man do ? 
 
 " There still are many rainbows in your sky, 
 
 " But mine have vanish'd. All, when life is new, 
 
 " Commence with feelings warm and prospects high ; 
 " But time strips our illusions of their hue, 
 
 " And one by one in turn, some grand mistake 
 
 " Casts off its bright skin yearly like the snake. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 " 'Tis true, it gets another bright and fresh, 
 
 " Or fresher, brighter, but the year gone through, 
 
 " This skin must go the way too of all flesh, 
 " Or sometimes only wear a week or two; 
 
 " Love's the first net which spreads its deadly mesh ; 
 " Ambition, Avarice, Vengeance, Glory, glue 
 
 " The glittering lime-twigs of our latter days, 
 
 " Where still we flutter on for pence or praise." 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 " All this is very fine, and may be true," 
 Said Juan ; " but I really don't see how 
 
 " It betters present times with me or you." 
 " No?" quoth the other; " yet you will allow 
 
 " By setting things in their right point of view, 
 " Knowledge, at least, is gain'd ; for instance, now, 
 
 " We know what slavery is, and our disasters 
 
 " May teach us better to behave when masters."
 
 CAXTO v. DON JUAN. 257 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 " Would we were masters now, if but to try 
 
 " Their present lessons on our Pagan friends here," 
 
 Said Juan swallowing a heart-burning sigh: 
 "Heaven help the scholar whom his fortune sends here !" 
 
 " Perhaps we shall be one day, by and by," 
 
 Rejoined the other, " when our bad luck mends here ; 
 
 " Meantime (yon old black eunuch seems to eye us) 
 
 " I wish to G d that somebody would buy us ! 
 
 XXV. 
 
 " But after all what is our present state ? 
 
 " 'Tis bad, and may be better all men's lot : 
 " Most men are slaves, none more so than the great, 
 
 " To their own whims and passions, and what not ; 
 " Society itself, which should create 
 
 " Kindness, destroys what little we had got : 
 " To feel for none is the true social art 
 "Of the world's stoics men without a heart." 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Just now a black old neutral personage 
 Of the third sex slept up, and peering over 
 
 The captives, seern'd to mark their looks and age, 
 And capabilities, as to discover 
 
 If they were fitted for the purposed cage : 
 No lady e'er is ogled by a lover, 
 
 Horse by a blackleg, broadcloth by a tailor, 
 
 Fee by a counsel, felon by a jailor, 
 
 VOL. i. s
 
 258 DON JUAN. CANTO v. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 As is a slave by his intended bidder. 
 
 Tis pleasant purchasing our fellow creatures ; 
 And all are to be sold, if you consider 
 
 Their passions, and are dext'rous ; some by features 
 Are bought up, others by a warlike leader, 
 
 Some by a place as tend their years or natures ; 
 The most by ready cash but all have prices, 
 From crowns to kicks, according to their vices. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 The eunuch having eyed them o'er with care, 
 Turn'd to the merchant, and begun to bid 
 
 First but for one, and after for the pair ; 
 They haggled, wrangled, swore, too so they did ! 
 
 As though they were in a mere Christian fair 
 Cheapening an ox, an ass, a lamb, or kid; 
 
 So that their bargain sounded like a battle 
 
 For this superior yoke of human cattle. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 At last they settled into simple grumbling, 
 
 And pulling out reluctant purses, and 
 Turning each piece of silver o'er, and tumbling 
 
 Some down, and weighing others in their hand, 
 And by mistake sequins with paras jumbling, 
 
 Until the sum was accurately scann'd, 
 And then the merchant giving change, and signing 
 Receipts in full, began to think of dining.
 
 CANTO v. DON JUAN. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 I wonder if his appetite was good? 
 
 Or, if it were, if also his digestion ? 
 Methinks at meals some odd thoughts might intrude, 
 
 And conscience ask a curious sort of question, 
 About the right divine how far we should 
 
 Sell flesh and blood. When dinner has opprest one, 
 I think it is perhaps the gloomiest hour 
 Which turns up out of the sad twenty-four. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Voltaire says " No :" he tells you that Candide 
 Found life most tolerable after meals ; 
 
 He 's wrong unless man was a pig, indeed, 
 Repletion rather adds to what he feels, 
 
 Unless he 's drunk, and then no doubt he's freed 
 From his own brain's oppression while it reels. 
 
 Of food I think with Philip's son, or rather 
 
 Ammon's (ill pleased with one world and one father) ; 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 I think with Alexander, that the act 
 
 Of eating, with another act or two. 
 Makes us feel our mortality in fact 
 
 Redoubled ; when a roast and a ragout, 
 And fish, and soup, by some side dishes back'd, 
 
 Can give us either pain or pleasure, who 
 Would pique himself on intellects, whose use 
 Depends so much upon the gastric juice?
 
 2fiO DON JUAN. CANTO V. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 The other evening ('twas on Friday last) 
 
 This is a fact and no poetic fable 
 Just as my great coat was about me cast, 
 
 My hat and gloves still lying on the table, 
 I heard a shot 'twas eight o'clock scarce past 
 
 And running out as fast as I was able, ( 3 
 I found the military commandant 
 Stretch'd in the street, and able scarce to pant. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Poor fellow ! for some reason, surely bad, 
 
 They had slain him with five slugs; and left h n there 
 To perish on the pavement ; so I had 
 
 Him borne into the house and up the stair, 
 Andstripp'd, and look'd to, But why shou I add 
 
 More circumstances ? vain was every care; 
 The man was gone : in some Italian quarrel 
 KilPd by five bullets from an old gun-barrel. (4) 
 
 XXXV 
 
 I gazed upon him, for I knew him well ; 
 
 And though I have seen many corpses, never 
 Saw one, whom such an accident befell, 
 
 So calm; though pierced through stomach, heart, and 
 
 liver, 
 He seem'd to sleep, for you could scarcely tell 
 
 (As he bled inwardly no hideous river 
 Of gore divulged the cause) that he was dead : 
 So as I gazed on him, I thought or said
 
 CANTO v. DON JUAN. 261 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 " Can this be death ? then what is life or death ? 
 
 " Speak !" but he spoke not : " wake! " butstill he slept : 
 " But yesterday and who had mightier breath ? 
 
 " A thousand warriors by his word were kept 
 " In awe : he said, as the centurion saith, 
 
 " ' Go,' and he goeth ; 'come,' and forth he stepp'd, 
 " The trump and bugle till he spake were dumb 
 '' And now nought left him but the muffled drum." 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 And they who waited once and worshipp'd they 
 With their rough faces throng'd about the bed 
 
 To gaze once more on the commanding clay 
 
 Which for the last though not the first time bled : 
 
 And such an end ! that he who many a day 
 Had faced Napoleon's foes until they fled, 
 
 The foremost in the charge or in the sally, 
 
 Should now be butcher'd in a civic alley. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 The scars of his old wounds were near his new, 
 Those honourable scars which brought him fame ; 
 
 And horrid was the contrast to the view 
 
 But let me quit the theme ; as such things claim 
 
 Perhaps even more attention than is due 
 
 From me : I gazed (as oft I have gazed the same) 
 
 To try if I could wrench aught out of death 
 
 Which should confirm, or shake, or make a faith ;
 
 262 DON JUAN. CANTO v. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 But it was all a mystery. Here we are. 
 
 And there we go ; but where ? five bits of lead, 
 Or three, or two, or one, send very far ! 
 
 And is this blood, then, form'd but to be shed ? 
 Can every element our elements mar ? 
 
 And air earth water fire live and we dead ? 
 We, whose minds comprehend all things ? No more ; 
 But let us to the story as before. 
 
 XL. 
 
 The purchaser of Juan and acquaintance 
 
 Bore off his bargains to a gilded boat, 
 Embark'd himself and them, and off they went thence 
 
 As fast as oars could pull and water float ; 
 They look'd like persons being led to sentence, 
 
 Wondering what next, till the caique was brought : 
 Up in a little creek below a wall 
 O'ertopp'd with cypresses dark-green and tall. 
 
 XLL 
 
 Here their conductor tapping at the wicket 
 
 Of a small iron door, 'twas opened, and 
 He led them onward, first through a low thicket 
 
 Flank'd by large groves, which tower'd on either hand : 
 They almost lost their way and had to pick it 
 
 For night was closing ere they came to land. 
 The eunuch made a sign to those on board, 
 Who row'd off, leaving them without a word.
 
 CANTO v. DON JUAN. 263 
 
 XLII. 
 
 As they were plodding on their winding way, 
 Through orange bowers, and jasmine, and so forth ; 
 
 (Of which I might have a good deal to say, 
 There being no such profusion in the north 
 
 Of oriental plants, " et cetera," 
 But that of late your scribblers think it worth 
 
 Their while to rear whole hotbeds in their works 
 
 Because one poet travell'd 'mongst the Turks :) 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 As they were threading on their way, there came 
 Into Don Juan's head a thought, which he 
 
 Whisper'd to his companion : 'twas the same 
 Which might have then occurr'd to you or me. 
 
 " Methinks," said he, "it would be no great shame 
 " If we should strike a stroke to set us free ; 
 
 " Let's knock that old black fellow on the head, 
 
 " And march away 'twere easier done than said." 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 " Yes," said the other, " and when done, what then ? 
 
 " How get out ? how the devil got we in ? 
 " And when we once were fairly out, and when 
 
 " From Saint Bartholomew we have saved our skin, 
 " To-morrow 'd see us in some other den, 
 
 " And worse off than we hitherto have been ; 
 " Besides, I'm hungry, and just now would take, 
 " Like Esau, for my birthright a beef-steak.
 
 i'64 DON JUAN. CANTO v. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 " We must be near some place of man's abode; 
 " For the old negro's confidence in creeping, 
 
 " With his two captives, by so queer a road, 
 " Shows that he thinks his friends have not been 
 sleeping ; 
 
 " A single cry would bring them all abroad : 
 " 'Tis therefore better looking before leaping 
 
 " And there, you see, this turn has brought us through 
 
 " By Jove, a noble palace ! lighted too." 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 It was indeed a wide extensive building 
 Which open'd on their view, and o'er the front 
 
 There seem'd to be besprent a deal of gilding 
 And various hues, as is the Turkish wont, 
 
 A gaudy taste ; for they are little skill'd in 
 The arts of which these lands were once the font : 
 
 Each villa on the Bosphorus looks a screen 
 
 New painted, or a pretty opera-scene. 
 
 XL VII. 
 
 And nearer as they came, a genial savour 
 Of certain stews, and roast-meats, and pilaus, 
 
 Things which in hungry mortals' eyes find favour, 
 Made Juan in his harsh intentions pause, 
 
 And put himself upon his good behaviour: 
 His friend, too, adding a new saving clause, 
 
 Said, " In Heaven's name let's get some supper now, 
 
 " And then I 'm with you, if you're for a row."
 
 CANTO v. DON JUAN. 265 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 Some talk of an appeal unto some passion, 
 Some to men's feelings, others to their reason ; 
 
 The last of these was never much the fashion, 
 For reason thinks all reasoning out of season. 
 
 Some speakers whine, and others lay the lash on, 
 But more or less continue still to tease on, 
 
 With arguments according to their " forte ;" 
 
 But no one ever dreams of being short. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 But I digress : of all appeals, although 
 I grant the power of pathos, and of gold, 
 
 Of beauty, flattery, threats, a shilling, no 
 Method's more sure at moments to take hold 
 
 Of the best feelings of mankind, which grow 
 More tender, as we every day behold, 
 
 Than that all-softening, overpowering knell, 
 
 The tocsin of the soul the dinner bell. 
 
 L. 
 
 Turkey contains no bells, and yet men dine ; 
 
 And Juan and his friend, albeit they heard 
 No Christian knoll to table, saw no line 
 
 Of lacqueys usher to the feast prepared, 
 Yet smelt roast-meat, beheld a huge fire shine, 
 
 And cooks in motion with their clean arms bared, 
 And gazed around them to the left and right 
 With the prophetic eye of appetite.
 
 fc / 
 
 266 DON JUAN- CANTO v. 
 
 LI. 
 
 And giving up all notions of resistance, 
 
 They follow'd close behind their sable guide. 
 Who little thought that his own crack'd existence 
 
 Was on the point of being set aside : 
 He motion'd them to stop at some small distance, 
 And knocking at the gate, 'twas open'd wide, 
 And a magnificent large hall display'd 
 The Asian pomp of Ottoman parade. 
 
 LII. 
 
 I won't describe ; description is my forte, 
 But every fool describes in these bright days 
 
 His wond'rous journey to some foreign court, 
 And spawns his quarto, and demands your praise 
 
 Death to his publisher, to him 'tis sport ; 
 While Nature tortured twenty thousand ways, 
 
 Resigns herself with exemplary patience 
 
 To guide-books, rhymes, tours, sketches, illustrations. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 Along this hall, and up and down, some, squatted 
 Upon their hams, were occupied at chess ; 
 
 Others in monosyllable talk chatted, 
 And some seem'd much in love with their own dress, 
 
 And divers smoked superb pipes decorated 
 With amber mouths of greater price or less j 
 
 And several strutted, others slept, and some 
 
 Prepared for supper with a glass of rum. (5)
 
 CANTO v. DON JUAN. 267 
 
 LIV. 
 
 As the black eunuch enter'd with his brace 
 Of purchased Infidels, some raised their eyes 
 
 A moment without slackening from their pace; 
 But those who sate, ne'er stirr'd in any wise : 
 
 One or two stared the captives in the face, 
 Just as one views a horse to guess his price ; 
 
 Some nodded to the negro from their station, 
 
 But no one troubled him with conversation. 
 
 LV. 
 
 He leads them through the hall, and without stopping, 
 On through a farther range of goodly rooms, 
 
 Splendid but silent, save in one, where, dropping, (6) 
 A marble fountain echoes through the glooms 
 
 Of night, which robe the chamber, or where popping 
 Some female head most curiously presumes 
 
 To thrust its black eyes through the door or lattice, 
 
 As wondering what the devil noise that is. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 Some faint lamps gleaming from the lofty walls 
 Cave light enough to hint their farther way, 
 
 But not enough to show the imperial halls 
 In all the flashing of their full array ; 
 
 Perhaps there 's nothing 1 '11 not say appals, 
 But saddens more by night as well as day, 
 
 Then an enormous room without a soul 
 
 To break the lifeless splendor of the whole.
 
 DON JUAN. CANTO v. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 Two or three seem so little, one seems nothing : 
 In deserts, forests, crowds, or by the shore, 
 
 There solitude, we know, has her full growth in 
 The spots which were her realms for evermore ; 
 
 But in a mighty hall or gallery, both in 
 
 More modern buildings and those built of yore, 
 
 A kind of death comes o'er us all alone 
 
 Seeing what 's meant for many with but one. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 A neat, snug study on a winter's night, 
 
 A book, friend, single lady, or a glass 
 Of claret, sandwich, and an appetite, 
 
 Are things which make an English evening pass ; 
 Though ccrles by no means so grand a sight 
 
 As is a theatre lit up by gas. 
 I pass my evenings in long galleries solely, 
 And that's the reason I 'm so melancholy. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 Alas ! man makes that great which makes him little : 
 
 I grant you in a church 'tis very well : 
 What speaks of Heaven should by no means be brittle, 
 
 But strong and lasting, till no tongue can tell 
 Their names who rear'd it; but huge houses fit ill 
 
 And huge tombs worse mankind, since Adam fell : 
 Methinks the story of the tower of Babel 
 Might teach them this much better than I 'm able.
 
 CANTO v. DON JUAN. 
 
 LX. 
 
 Babel was Nimrod's hunting-seat, and then 
 A town of gardens, walls, and wealth amazing, 
 
 Where Nabuchadonosor, king of men, 
 Reigu'd, till one summer's day he took to grazing, 
 
 And Daniel tamed the lions in their den, 
 The people's awe and admiration raising; 
 
 'Twas famous, too, for Thisbe and for Pyramus, 
 
 And the calumniated Queen Semiramis. 
 
 LX1. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 But to resume, should there be (what may not 
 Be in these days ?) some infidels, who don't, 
 
 Because they can't, find out the very spot 
 Of that same Babel* or because they won't, 
 
 (Though Claudius Rich, Esquire, some bricks has got 
 And written lately two memoirs upon 't) 
 
 Believe the Jews, those unbelievers, who 
 
 Must be believed, though they believe not you.
 
 270 DON JUAN. CANTO v. 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 Yet let them think, that Horace has exprest 
 
 Shortly and sweetly the masonic folly 
 Of those, forgetting the great place of rest, 
 
 Who give themselves to architecture wholly; 
 We know where things and men must end at last : 
 
 A moral (like all morals) melancholy, 
 And "Et sepulchri immemor struis domes'* 
 Shows that we build when we should but entomb us. 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 At last they reach'd a quarter most retired, 
 Where echo woke as if from a long slumber ; 
 
 Though full of all things which could be desired, 
 One wouderM what to do with such a number 
 
 Of articles which nobody required ; 
 Here wealth had done its utmost to encumber 
 
 With furniture an exquisite apartment, 
 
 Which puzzled nature much to know what art meant. 
 
 LXV. 
 It seem'd, however but to open on 
 
 A range or suit of further chambers, which 
 Might lead to Heaven knows where ; but in this one 
 
 The moveables were prodigally rich : 
 Sofas 'twas half a sin to sit upon, 
 
 So costly were they ; carpets every stitch 
 Of workmanship so rare, they made you wish 
 You could glide o'er them like a golden fish.
 
 ANTO v. DON JUAN. 271 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 The black, however, without hardly deigning 
 
 A glance at that which wrapt the slaves in wonder, 
 
 Trampled what they scarce trod for fear of staining, 
 As if the milky way their feet was under 
 
 With all its stars ; and with a stretch attaining 
 A certain press or cupboard niched in yonder 
 
 In that remote recess which you may see 
 
 Or if you don't the fault is not in me, 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 I wish to be perspicuous ; and the black, 
 I say, unlocking the recess, pull'd forth 
 
 A quantity of clothes fit for the back 
 Of any Mussulman, whate'er his worth; 
 
 And of variety there was no lack 
 And yet, though I have said there was no dearth, 
 
 He chose himself to point out what he thought 
 
 Most proper for the Christians he had bought. 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 The suit he thought most suitable to each 
 Was, for the elder and the stouter, first 
 
 A candiote cloak, which to the knee might reach, 
 And trowsers not so tight that they would burst, 
 
 But such as fit an Asiatic breech ; 
 
 A shawl, whose folds in Cashmire had been nurst, 
 
 Slippers of saffron, dagger rich and handy ; 
 
 In short, all things which form a Turkish Dandy.
 
 272 DON JUAN. CANTO V. 
 
 LXIX. 
 While he was dressing, Baba, their black friend, 
 
 Hinted the vast advantages which they 
 Might probably obtain both in the end, 
 
 If they would but pursue the proper way 
 Which Fortune plainly seem'd to recommend; 
 
 And then he added, that he needs must say, 
 " 'Twould greatly tend to better their condition, 
 " If they would condescend to circumcision. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 " For his own part, he really should rejoice 
 "To see them true believers, but no less 
 
 " Would leave his proposition to their choice " 
 The other, thanking him for this excess 
 
 Of goodness, in thus leaving them a voice 
 In such a trifle, scarcely could express 
 
 " Sufficiently (he said) his approbation 
 
 " Of all the customs of this polish'd nation. 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 " For his own share he saw but small objection 
 " To so respectable an ancient rite ; 
 
 " And, after swallowing down a slight refection, 
 " For which he own'd a present appetite, 
 
 " He doubted not a fe\v hours of reflection 
 " Would reconcile him to the business quite." 
 
 " Will it?" said Juan, sharply; " Strike me dead, 
 
 " But they as soon shall circumcise my head !
 
 CANTO v. DON JUAN. 273 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 " Cut ofFa thousand heads, before " " No^y, pray, 
 
 Replied the other, " do not interrupt : 
 " You put me out in what I had to say. 
 
 " Sir! as I said, "as soon as I have supt, 
 " I shall perpend if your proposal may 
 
 " Be such as I can properly accept ; 
 " Provided always your great goodness still 
 " Remits the matter to our own free-will." 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 Baba eyed Juan, and said " Be so good 
 
 " As dress yourself" and pointed out a suit 
 
 In which a Princess with great pleasure would 
 Array her limbs ; but Juan standing mute, 
 
 As not being in a masquerading mood, 
 
 Gave it a slight kick with his Christian foot; 
 
 And when the old negro told him to " Get ready," 
 
 Replied, " Old gentleman, I'm not a lady." 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 " What you may be, I neither know nor care," 
 Said Baba; " but pray do as I desire: 
 
 " I have no more time nor many words to spare." 
 " At least," said Juan " sure I may enquire 
 
 " The cause of this odd travesty?" " Forbear," 
 Said Baba, " to be curious ; 'twill transpire, 
 
 " No doubt, in proper place, and time, and season : 
 
 " I have no authority to tell the reason." 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 DON JUAN- CANTO v. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 " Then if I do," said Juan, " I '11 be " " Hold !" 
 
 Rejoin'd the negro, " pray be not provoking; 
 
 " This spirit's well, but it may wax too bold, 
 "And you will find us not too fond of joking." 
 
 " What, sir,'* said Juan, " shall it e'er be told 
 " That I unsex'd my dress ?'' But Baba stroking 
 
 The things down, said " Incense me, and I call 
 
 " Those who will leave you of no sex at all. 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 " I offer you a handsome suit of clothes : 
 " A woman's true ; but then there is a cause 
 
 " Why you should wear them." " What, though my 
 
 soul loathes 
 " The effeminate garb ?'' thus, after a short pause, 
 
 Sigh'd Juan, muttering also some slight oaths, 
 " What the devil shall I do with all this gauze?" 
 
 Thus he profanely term'd the finest lace 
 
 Which e'er set off a marriage-morning face. 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 And then he swore ; and, sighing, on he slipp'd 
 A pair of trowsers of flesh-colour'd silk, 
 
 Next with a virgin zone he was equipp'd, 
 
 Which girt a slight chemise as white as milk ; 
 
 But tugging on his petticoat he tripp'd, 
 
 Which as we say or as the Scotch say whilk, 
 
 (The rhyme obliges me to this : sometimes 
 
 Kings are not more imperative than rhymes.
 
 CANTO v. DON JUAN. 275 
 
 LXXVITT. 
 
 Whilk, which (or what you please), was owing to 
 His garment's novelty, and his being awkward ; 
 
 And yet at last he managed to get through 
 His toilet, though no doubt a little backward : 
 
 The negro Baba help'd a little too, 
 
 When some untoward part of raiment stuck hard ; 
 
 And, wrestling both his arms into a gown, 
 
 He paused and took a survey up and down. 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 One difficulty still remain'd, his hair 
 Was hardly long enough ; but Baba found 
 
 So many false long tresses all to spare, 
 
 That soon his head was most completely crown'd, 
 
 After the manner then in fashion there; 
 And this addition with such gems was bound 
 
 As suited the ensemble of his toilet, 
 
 While Baba made him comb his head and oil it, 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 And now being femininely all array'd, 
 
 With some small aid from scissars, paint, and tweezers, 
 He look'd in almost all respects a maid, 
 
 And Baba smilingly exclaimed " You see, sirs, 
 "A perfect transformation here displayed , 
 
 " And now, then, you must come along with me, sirs 
 " That is the Lady :" clapping his hands twice, 
 Four blacks were at his elbow in a trice.
 
 ?76 DON JUAN. CANTO v. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 ' You, sir," said Baba, nodding to the one, 
 " Will please to accompany those gentlemen 
 
 " To supper ; but you, worthy Christian nun, 
 " Will follow me ; no trifling, sir ; for when 
 
 " I say a thing, it must at once be done. 
 " What fear you? think you this a lion's den? 
 
 " "Why, 'tis a palace ; where the truly wise 
 
 ' Anticipate the Prophet's paradise. 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 " You fool ! I tell you no one means you harm." 
 " So much the better,'' Juan said, " for them ; 
 
 " Else they shall feel the weight of this my arm, 
 " Which is not quite so light as you may deem. 
 
 " I yield thus far ; but soon will break the charm 
 " If any take me for that which I seem : 
 
 " So that I trust for every body's sake, 
 
 " That this disguise may lead to no mistake." 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 " Blockhead ! come on, and see," quoth Baba; while 
 
 Don Juan, turning to his comrade, who 
 Though somewhat grieved, could scarce forbear a smile 
 
 Upon the metamorphosis in view, 
 ' Farewell !'' they mutually exclaim'd : " this soil 
 
 " Seems fertile in adventures strange and new ; 
 " One's turn'd half Mussulman, and one a maid, 
 " By this old black enchanter's unsought aid.
 
 CANTO v. DON JUAN. 277 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 " Farewell !" said Juan; " should we meet no more, 
 " I wish you a good appetite." " Farewell !" 
 
 Replied the other ; " though it grieves me sore ; 
 " When we next meet, we'll have a tale to tell 
 
 " We needs must follow when Fate puts from shore. 
 " Keep your good name; though Eve herself once fell." 
 
 "Nay," quoth the maid, "the Sultan's self shan't carry me, 
 
 " Unless his highness promises to marry me." 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 And thus they parted, each by separate doors ; 
 
 Babalecl Juan onward room by room 
 Through glittering galleries, and o'er marble floors, 
 
 Till a gigantic pcrtal through the gloom, 
 Haughty and huge, along the distant towers ; 
 
 And wafted far arose a rich perfume : 
 It seem'd as though they came upon a shrine, 
 For all was vast, still, fragrant, and divine. 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 The giant door was broad, and bright, and high, 
 Of gilded bronze, and carved in curious guise ; 
 
 Warriors thereon were battling furiously ; 
 Here stalks the victor, there the vanquish'd lies ; 
 
 There captives led in triumph droop the eye, 
 And in perspective many a squadron flies : 
 
 It seems the work of times before the line 
 
 Of Rome transplanted fell with Constantino.
 
 278 DON JUAN. CANTO 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 This massy portal stood at the wide close 
 
 Of a huge hall, and on its either side 
 Two little dwarfs, the least you could suppose, 
 
 Were sate, like ugly imps, as if allied 
 In mockery to the enormous gate which rose 
 
 O'er them in almost pyramidic pride : 
 The gate so splendid was in all its features, (7) 
 You never thought about those little creatures, 
 
 LXXXV1II. 
 
 Until you nearly trod on them, and then 
 
 You started back in horror to survey 
 The wond'rous hideousness of those small men, 
 
 Whose colour was not black, nor white, nor gray 
 But an extraneous mixture, which no pen 
 
 Can trace, although perhaps the pencil may; 
 They were misshapen pigmies, deaf and dumb- 
 Monsters, who cost a no less mostrous sum. 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 Their duty was for they were strong, and though 
 They look'd so little, did strong things at times 
 
 To ope this door, which they could really do, 
 The hinges being as smooth as Rogers' rhymes ; 
 
 And now and then with tough strings of the bow, 
 As is the custom of those eastern climes, 
 
 To give some rebel Pacha a cravat; 
 
 For mutes are generally used for that. ,
 
 CANTO v. DON JUAN. 
 
 XC. 
 
 They spoke by signs that is, not spoke at all ; 
 
 And looking like two incubi, they glared 
 As Baba with his fingers made them fall 
 
 To heaving back the portal folds : it scared 
 Juan a moment, as this pair so small 
 
 With shrinking serpent optics on him stared j 
 It was as if their little looks could poison 
 Or fascinate whom'er they fix'd their eyes on. 
 
 XCI. 
 
 Before they enter'd Baba paused to hint 
 To Juan some slight lessons as his guide : 
 
 " If you could just contrive," he said, " to stint 
 " That somewhat manly majesty of stride, 
 
 "'T would be as well, and, (though there's not much in't"* 
 " To swing a little less from side to side, 
 
 ' Which has at times an aspect of the oddest ; 
 
 " And also could you look a little modest, 
 
 XCII. 
 " 'T would be convenient; for these mutes have eyes 
 
 " Like needles, which may pierce those petticoats : 
 " And if they should discover your disguise, 
 
 " You know how near us the deep Bosphorus floats ; 
 " And you and I may chance, ere morning rise, 
 
 " To find our way to Marmora without boats, 
 " Stitch'd up in sacks a mode of navigation 
 " A good deal practised hereupon occasion."
 
 280 DON JUAN. -CANTO v. 
 
 XCIIJ. 
 
 With this encouragement, he led the way 
 
 Into a room still nobler than the last ; 
 A rich confusion form'd a disarray 
 
 In such sort, that the eye along it cast 
 Could hardly carry any thing away, 
 
 Object on object flash'd so bright and fast; 
 A dazzling mass of gems, and gold, and glitter, 
 Magnificently mingled in a litter. 
 
 XCIV. 
 
 Wealth had done wonders taste not much ; such things 
 
 Occur in orient palaces, and even 
 In the more chasten'd domes of western kings 
 
 (Of which I have also seen some six or seven) 
 Where I can't say or gold or diamond flings 
 
 Much lustre, there is much to be forgiven ; 
 Groups of bad statues, tables, chairs, and pictures, 
 On which I cannot pause to make my strictures. 
 
 XCV. 
 
 In this imperial hall, at distance lay 
 
 Under a canopy, and there reclined 
 Quite in a confidential queenly way, 
 
 A lady ; Baba stopp'd, and kneeling sign'd 
 To Juan, who though not much used to pray, 
 
 Knelt down by instinct, wondering in his mind 
 What all this meant : while Baba bow'd and bended 
 His head, until the ceremony ended.
 
 CANTO v. DON JUAN. 281 
 
 XCVI. 
 
 The lady rising up with such an air 
 
 As Venus rose with from the wave, on them 
 
 Bent like an antelope a Paphian pair 
 
 Of eyes, which put out each surrounding gem ; 
 
 And raising up an arm us moonlight fair, 
 She sign'd to Baba, who first kiss'd the hem 
 
 Of her deep-purple robe, and speaking low, 
 
 Pointed to Juan, who remain'd below. 
 
 XCVII. 
 
 Her presence was as lofty as her state ; 
 
 Her beauty of that overpowering kind, 
 Whose force, description only would abate : 
 
 I'd rather leave it much to your own mind, 
 Than lessen it by what I could relate 
 
 Of forms and features ; it would strike you blind 
 Coxild 1 do justice to the full detail ; 
 So, luckily for both, my phrases fail. 
 
 XCVI1I. 
 This much however I may add, her years 
 
 Were ripe, they might make six and twenty springs. 
 But there are forms which Time to touch forbears, 
 
 And turns aside his scyth to vulgar things. 
 Such as was Mary's Queen of Scots ; true tears 
 
 And love destroy; and sapping sorrow wrings 
 Charms from the charmer, yet some never grow 
 Ugly; for instance Ninon de 1'Enclos.
 
 282 DON JUAN. CANTO V. 
 
 XCIX. 
 
 She spake some words to her attendants, who 
 Composed a choir of girls, ten or a dozen, 
 
 And were all clad alike ; like Juan, too, 
 Who wore their uniform, by Baba chosen : 
 
 They form'd a very nymph-like looking crew. 
 Which might have calPd Diana's chorus f ' cousin," 
 
 As far as outward show may correspond ; 
 
 I won't be bail for any thing beyond. 
 
 C. 
 
 They bow'd obeisance and withdrew retiring 
 But not by the same door through which came in 
 
 Baba and Juan, which last stood admiring, 
 At some small distance, all he saw within 
 
 This strange saloon, much fitted for inspiring 
 Marvel and praise ; for both or none things win; 
 
 And I must say, I ne'er could see the very 
 
 Great happiness of the "Nil Admirari." 
 
 01. 
 
 "Not to admire is all the art I know 
 
 " (Plain truth, dear Murray, needs few flowers of speech) 
 " To make men happy, or to keep them so ; 
 
 " (So take it in the very words of Creech)." 
 Thus Horace wrote we all know long ago ; 
 
 And thus Pope quotes the precept to re-teach 
 From his translation ; but had none admired, 
 Would Pope have sung, or Horace been inspired ?
 
 CANTO v. DON JUAN. 283 
 
 CII. 
 
 Baba, when all the damsels were withdrawn, 
 Motion'd to Juan to approach, and then 
 
 A second time desired him to kneel down, 
 And kiss the lady's foot ; which maxim when 
 
 He heard, repeated Juan with a frown 
 Drew himself up to his full height again, 
 
 And said, " It grieved him, but he could not stoop 
 
 " To any shoe, unless it shod the Pope." 
 
 GUI. 
 
 Baba, indignant at this ill-timed pride, 
 Made fierce remonstrances, and then a threat 
 
 He mutter'd (but the last was given aside) 
 About a bow-stringquite in vain ; not yet 
 
 Would Juan stoop, though 't were to Mahomet's bride 
 There's nothing in the world like etiquette 
 
 In kingly chambers or imperial halls, 
 
 As also at the race and county balls. 
 
 CIV. 
 
 He stood like Atlas, with a world of words 
 About his ears, and nathless would not bend ; 
 
 The blood of all his line's Castilian lords 
 Boil'd in his veins, and rather than descend 
 
 To stain his pedigree, a thousand swords 
 A thousand times of him had made an end ; 
 
 At length perceiving the "foot" could not stand, 
 
 Baba proposed that he should kiss the hand.
 
 DON JUAN. CANTO v. 
 
 CV. 
 Here was an honourable compromise, 
 
 A half-way house of diplomatic rest, 
 Where they might meet in much more peaceful guise; 
 
 And Juan now his willingness exprest 
 To use all fit and proper courtesies. 
 
 Adding, that this was commonest and best, 
 For through the .South, the custom still commands 
 The gentleman, to kiss the lady's hands. 
 
 CVI. 
 
 And he advanced, though with but a bad grace, 
 Though on more thorough-tired (8) or fairer fingers 
 
 No lips e'er left their transitory trace : 
 
 On such as these the lip too fondly lingers, 
 
 And for one kiss would fain imprint a brace, 
 As you will see if she you love shall bring hers 
 
 In contact ; and sometimes even a fair stranger's 
 
 An almost twelvemonth's constancy endangers. 
 
 CVIL 
 
 The lady eyed him o'er and o'er, and bade 
 
 Baba retire, which he obey'd in style, 
 As if well-used to the retreating trade; 
 
 And taking hints in good part all the while, 
 He whisperM Juan not to be afraid, 
 
 And looking on him with a sort of smile, 
 Took leave with such a face of satisfaction, 
 As good men wear who have done a virtuous action.
 
 CANTO v. DON JUAN. 2fi5 
 
 CVIII. 
 
 When he was gone, there was a sudden change : 
 I know not what might be the lady's thought, 
 
 But o'er her bright brow flash'd a tumult strange, 
 And into her clear check the blood was brought, 
 
 Blood-red as sunset summer clouds which range 
 The verge of Heaven ; and in her large eyes wrought 
 
 A mixture of sensations might be scann'd, 
 
 Of half voluptuousness and half command 
 
 CIX. 
 
 Her form had all ths softness of her sex, 
 Her features all the sweetness of the devil, 
 
 When he put on the cherub to perplex 
 
 Eve, and paved (God knows how) the road to evil ; 
 
 The sun himself was scarce more froe from specks 
 Than she from aught at which the eye could cavil ; 
 
 Yet, somehow, there was something somewhere wanting, 
 
 As if she rather ordci^d than was granting. 
 
 CX. 
 
 Something imperial, or imperious, threw 
 A chain o'er all she did ; that is, a chain 
 
 Was thrown as 't were about the neck of you, 
 And rapture's self will seem almost a pain 
 
 With aught which looks like despotism in view . 
 Our souls at least are free, and 'tis in vain 
 
 We would against them make the flesh obey 
 
 The spirit in the end will have its way.
 
 286 DON JUAN. CANTO v. 
 
 CXI. 
 
 Her very smile was haughty, though so sweet ; 
 
 Her very nod was not an inclination : 
 There was a self-will even in her small feet, 
 
 As though they were quite conscious of her station 
 They trod as upon necks ; and to complete 
 
 Her state, (it is the custom of her nation,) 
 A poniard deck'd her girdle, as the sign 
 She was a sultan's bride, ("thank Heaven not mine.) 
 
 CXII. 
 
 " To hear and to obey" had been from birth 
 
 The law of all around her ; to fulfil 
 All phantasies which yielded joy or mirth, 
 
 Had been her slaves' chief pleasure, as her will ; 
 Her blood was high, her beauty scarce of earth : 
 
 Judge, then, if her caprices e'er stood still ; 
 Had she but been a Christian, I 've a notion 
 We should have found out the " perpetual motion." 
 
 CXIII. 
 
 Whate'er she saw and coveted was brought ; 
 
 Whate'er she did not see, if she supposed 
 It might be seen, with diligence was sought, 
 
 And when 'twas found straightway the bargain closed . 
 There was no end unto the things she bought, 
 
 Nor to the trouble which her fancies caused ; 
 Yet even her tyranny had such a grace, 
 The women pardon'd all except her face.
 
 CANTO v. DON JUAN. 287 
 
 CXIV. 
 
 Juan, the latest of her whims, had caught 
 Her eye in passing on his way to sale j 
 
 She order'd him directly to be bought, 
 
 And Baba, who had ne'er been known to fail 
 
 In any kind of mischief to be wrought, 
 Had his instructions where and how to deal ; 
 
 She had no prudence, but he had ; and this 
 
 Explains the garb which Juan took amiss. 
 
 cxv. 
 
 His youth and features favour'd the disguise, 
 And, should you ask how she, a sultan's bride, 
 
 Could risk or compass such strange phantasies, 
 This I must leave sultanas to decide : 
 
 Emperors are only husbands in wives' eyes, 
 And kings and consorts oft are mystified, 
 
 As we may ascertain with due precision, 
 
 Some by experience, others by tradition. 
 
 CXVI. 
 
 But to the main point, where we have been tending 
 She now conceived all difficulty past, 
 
 And deem'd herself extremely condescending 
 When, being made her property at last, 
 
 Without more preface, in her blue eyes blending 
 Passion and power, a glance on him she cast, 
 
 And merely saying, " Christian, canst thou love?" 
 
 Conceived that phrase was quite enough to move.
 
 288 DON JUAN. 
 
 CANTO V 
 
 CXVIt. 
 
 And so it was, in proper time and place; 
 
 But Juan, who had still his mind o'erflowing 
 With Haidfce's isle and soft Ionian face, 
 
 Felt the warm blood, which in his face was glowing, 
 Rush back upon his heart, which fill'd apace, 
 
 And left his cheeks as pale as snowdrops blowing : 
 These words went through his soul like Arab-spears, 
 So that he spoke not, but burst into tears. 
 
 CXVIII. 
 
 She was a gooc! deal shock'd ; not shock'd at tears, 
 For women shed and use them at their liking ; 
 
 But there is something when man's eye appears 
 Wet, still more disagreeable and striking . 
 
 A woman's tear-drop melts, a man's half sears, 
 Like molten lead, as if you thrust a pike in 
 
 His heart to force it out, for (to be shorter) 
 
 To them 'tis a relief, to us a torture. 
 
 CXIX. 
 
 And she would have consoled, but, knew not how ; 
 
 Having no equals, nothing which had e'er 
 Infected her with sympathy till now, 
 
 And never having dreamt what 'twas to bear 
 Aught of a serious sorrowing kind, although 
 
 There might arise some pouting petty care 
 To cross her brow, she wonder'd how so near 
 Her eyes another's eye could shed a tear.
 
 CANTO v. DON JUAN. 289 
 
 cxx. 
 
 But nature teaches more than power can spoil, 
 And, when a strong although a strange sensation, 
 
 Moves female hearts are such a genial soil 
 For kinder feelings, whatsoe'er their nation, 
 
 They naturally pour the " wine and oil," 
 Samaritans in every situation ; 
 
 And thus Gulleyaz, though she knew not why, 
 
 Felt an odd glistening moisture in her eye. 
 
 CXXI. 
 
 But tears must stop like all things else ; and soon 
 Juan, who for an instant had been moved 
 
 To such a sorrow by the intrusive tone 
 
 Of one who dared to ask if " he had loved," 
 
 Call'd back the stoic to his eyes, which shone 
 Bright with the very weakness he reproved ; 
 
 And although sensitive to beauty, he 
 
 Pelt most indignant still at not being free- 
 
 cxxir. 
 
 Gulleyaz, for the first time in her days, 
 Was much embarrass'd, never having met 
 
 In all her life with aught save prayers and praise ; 
 And as she also risk'd her life to get 
 
 Him whom she meant to tutor in love's ways 
 Into a comfortable tete-a-tete, 
 
 To lose the hour would make her quite a martyr, 
 
 And they had wasted now almost a quarter- 
 VOL. i. u
 
 290 DON JUAN. CANTO v. 
 
 CXX1II. 
 
 I also would suggest the fitting time, 
 
 To gentlemen in any such like case, 
 That is to say in a meridian clime, 
 
 With us there is more law given to the case, 
 But here a small delay forms a great crime : 
 
 So recollect that the extremes! grace 
 Is just two minutes for your declaration 
 A moment more would hurt your reputation. 
 
 CXXIV. 
 
 Juan's was good ; and might have been still better, 
 But lie had got Haide'e into his head: 
 
 However strange, he could not yet forget her 
 Which made him seem exceedingly ill-bred. 
 
 Gulleyaz, who look'd on him as her debtor 
 For having had him to her palace led, 
 
 Began to blush up to the eyes, and then 
 
 Grow deadly pale, and then blush back again. 
 
 cxxv. 
 
 At length, in an imperial way, she laid 
 Her hand on his, and bending on his eyes, 
 
 Which needed not an empire to persuade, 
 Look'd into his for love, where none replies : 
 
 Her brow grew black, but she would not upbraid, 
 That being the last thing a proud woman tries ; 
 
 She rose, and pausing one chaste moment, threw 
 
 Herself upon his breast, and there she grew.
 
 CANTO v. DON JUAN. 2Q1 
 
 CXXVI. 
 
 This was an awkward test, as Juan found, 
 
 But he was steel'd by sorrow, wrath, and pride : 
 
 With gentle force her white arms he unwound, 
 And seated her all drooping by his side. 
 
 Then rising haughtily he glanced around, 
 And looking coldly in her face, he cried, 
 
 " The prison 'd eagle will not pair, nor I 
 
 " Serve a sultana's sensual phantasy. 
 
 CXXVII. 
 
 " Thou ask'st, if I can love ? be this the proof 
 " How much I have loved that I love not thee \ 
 
 " In this vile garb, the distaff's web andwoof 
 " Were fitter for me : Love is for the free ! 
 
 " I am not dazzled by this splendid roof. 
 
 " Whate'er thy power, and great it seems to be, 
 
 " Heads bow, knees bend, eyes watch around a throne, 
 
 " And hands obey our hearts are still our own." 
 
 CXXVIII. 
 
 This was a truth to us extremely trite, 
 
 Not so to her, who ne'er had heard such things . 
 
 She deem'd her least command must yield delight, 
 Earth being only made for queens and kings. 
 
 If hearts lay on the left side or the right 
 She hardly knew, to such perfection brings 
 
 Legitimacy its born votaries, when 
 
 Aware of their due royal rights o'er men.
 
 292 DON JUAN. CANTO v- 
 
 CXXIX. 
 
 Besides, as has been said, she was so fair 
 As even in a much humbler lot had made 
 
 A kingdom or confusion any where, 
 And also, as may be presumed, she laid 
 
 Some stress upon those charms, which seldom are 
 By the possessors thrown into the shade ; 
 
 She thought hers gave a double " right divine," 
 
 And half of that opinion's also mine. 
 
 cxxx. 
 
 Remember, or (if you can not) imagine, 
 Ye ! who have kept your chastity when young, 
 
 While some more desperate dowager has been waging 
 Love with you, and been in the dog-days stung 
 
 By your refusal, recollect her raging ! 
 Or recollect all that was said or sung 
 
 On such a subject; then suppose the face 
 
 Of a young downright beauty in this case. 
 
 CXXXI. 
 
 Suppose, but you already have supposed, 
 The spouse of Potiphar, the Lady Booby, 
 
 Phedra, and all which story has disclosed 
 Of good examples; pity that so few by 
 
 Poets and private tutors are exposed, 
 To educate ye youth of Europe you by ! 
 
 But when you have supposed the few we know, 
 
 You can't suppose Gulleyaz' angry brow.
 
 CANTO v. DON JUAN. 93 
 
 CXXXII. 
 
 A tigress robb'd of young, a lioness, 
 
 Or any interesting beast of prey, 
 Are similes at hand for the distress 
 
 Of ladies who cannot have their own way ; 
 But though my turn will not be served with less, 
 
 These don't express one half what I should say : 
 For what is stealing young ones, few or many, 
 To cutting short their hopes of having any? 
 
 CXXXIII. 
 
 The love of offspring's nature's general law, 
 
 From tigresses and cubs to ducks and ducklings; 
 
 There's nothing whets the beak or arms the claw 
 Like an invasion of their babes and sucklings ; 
 
 And all who have seen a human nursery, saw 
 How mothers love their children's squalls and 
 chucklings ; 
 
 And this strong extreme effect (to tire no longer 
 
 Your patience) shows the cause must still be stronger. 
 
 CXXXIV. 
 
 If I said fire flash'd from Gulleyaz' eyes, 
 
 'Twere nothing for her eyes flash'd always fire ; 
 
 Or said her cheeks assumed the deepest dyes, 
 I should but bring disgrace upon the dyer, 
 
 So supernatural was her passion's rise ; 
 
 For ne'er till now she knew a check'd desire : 
 
 Even ye who know what a check'd woman is 
 
 (Enough, God knows !) would much fall short of this.
 
 L'94 DON JUAN. CANTO v. 
 
 cxxxv. 
 
 Her rage was but a minute's, and 'twas well 
 A moment's more had slain her ; but the while 
 
 It lasted 'twas like a short glimpse of hell: 
 Nought 's more sublime than energetic bile, 
 
 Though horrible to see yet grand to tell, 
 Like ocean warring 'gainst a rocky isle ; 
 
 And the deep passions flashing through her form 
 
 Made her a beautiful embodied storm. 
 
 CXXXVI. 
 
 A vulgar tempest 'twere to a Typhoon 
 To match a common fury with her rage, 
 
 And yet she did not want to reach the moon, 
 Like moderate Hotspur on the immortal page; 
 
 Her anger pitch'd into a lower tune, 
 Perhaps the fault of her soft sex and age 
 
 Her wish was but to " kill, kill, kill, 1 ' like Lear's, 
 
 And then her thirst of blood was quench'd in tears. 
 
 CXXXVII. 
 
 A storm it raged, and like the storm it pass'd, 
 Pass'd without words in fact she could not speak ; 
 
 And then her sex's shame broke in at last, 
 A sentiment till then in her but weak, 
 
 But now it flow'd in natural and fast, 
 As water through an unexpected leak, 
 
 For she felt humble and humiliation 
 
 Is sometimes good for people in her station.
 
 CANTO v. DON JUAN. sgs 
 
 CXXXVIII. 
 
 It teaches them that they are flesh and Mood, 
 It also gently hints to them that others, 
 
 Although of clay, are yet not quite of mud ; 
 That urns and pipkins are but fragile brothers, 
 
 And works of the same pottery, bad or good, 
 
 Though not all born of the same sires and mothers : 
 
 It teaches Heaven knows only what it teaches, 
 
 But sometimes it may mend, and often reaches. 
 
 CXXXIX. 
 
 Her first thought was to cut off Juan's head ; 
 
 Her second, to cut only his acquaintance ; 
 Her third, to ask him where he had been bred ; 
 
 Her fourth, to rally him into repentance ; 
 Her fifth, to call her maids and go to bed; 
 
 Her sixth, to stab herself ; her seventh to sentence 
 The lash to Baba; but her grand resoiirce 
 Was to sit down again, and cry of course. 
 
 CXL 
 
 She thought to stab herself, but then she had 
 The dagger close at hand, which made it awkward ; 
 
 For eastern stays are little made to pad, 
 So that a poniard pierces if 'tis stuck hard : 
 
 She thought of killing Juanbut, poor lad ! 
 
 Though he deserved it well for being so backward 
 
 The cutting off his head was not the art 
 
 Most likely to attain her aim his heart.
 
 DON JUAN- CANTO v 
 
 CXLI. 
 Juan was moved ; he had made up his mind 
 
 To be impaled, or quarter'd as a dish 
 For dogs, or to be slain with pangs refined, 
 
 Or thrown to lions, or made baits for fish, 
 And thus heroically stood resign'd, 
 
 Rather than sin except to his own wish : 
 But all his great preparatives for dying 
 Dissolved like snow before a woman crying. 
 
 CXLII. 
 
 As through his palms Bob Acres' valour oozed, 
 So Juan's virtue ebb'd I know not how; 
 
 And first he wonder'd why be had refused ; 
 And then, if matters could be made up now ; 
 
 And next his savage virtue he accused, 
 Just as a friar may accuse his vow, 
 
 Or as a dame repents her of her oath, 
 
 Which mostly ends in some small breach of both. 
 
 CXLIII. 
 
 So he began to stammer some excuses; 
 
 But words are not enough in such a matter, 
 Although you borrow'd all that e'er the muses 
 
 Have sung, or even a Dandy's dandiest chatter, 
 Or all the figures Castlereagh abuses ; 
 
 Just as a languid smile began to flatter 
 His peace was making, but before he ventured 
 Further, old Baba rather briskly entered.
 
 CANTO v. DON JUAN. 297 
 
 CXL1V. 
 
 " Bride of the Sun ! and Sister of the Moon !" 
 ' (Twas thus he spake,) " and Empress of the Earth ! 
 " Whose frown would put the spheres all out of tune, 
 
 " Whose smile makes all the planets dance with mirth, 
 " Your slave brings tidings he hopes not too soon 
 
 " Which your sublime attention may be worth: 
 " The Sun himself has sent me like a ray 
 " To hint that he is coming up this way.'' 
 
 CXLV. 
 
 " Is it," exclaimed Gulleyaz, " as you say ? 
 
 " I wish to heaven he would not shine till morning ! 
 " But bid my women form the milky way. 
 
 " Hence, my old comet ! give the stars due warning 
 " And Christian ! mingle with them as you may, 
 
 " And as you'd have me pardon your past scorning " 
 Here they were interrupted by a humming 
 Sound, and then by a cry, " the sultan's coming ! J1 
 
 CXLVI. 
 
 First came her damsels, a decorous file, 
 
 And then his Highness' eunuchs, black and white ; 
 
 The train might reach a quarter of a mile : 
 His majesty was always so polite 
 
 As to announce his visits a long while 
 Before he came, especially at night ; 
 
 For being the last wife of the emperor, 
 
 She was of course the favourite of the four.
 
 298 DON JUAN. CANTO v. 
 
 CXLVII. 
 His highness was a man of solemn port, 
 
 Shawl'd to the nose and bearded to the eyes, 
 Snatch'd from a prison to preside at court, 
 
 His lately bowstrung brother caused his rise ; 
 He was as good a sovereign of the sort 
 
 As any mention'd in the histories 
 Of Cantemir, or Knolles, where few shine 
 Save Solyman, the glory of their line. (.9) 
 
 CXLVIII. 
 
 He went to mosque in state, and said his prayers 
 With more than "oriental scrupulosity;" 
 
 He left to his vizier all state affairs, 
 And show'd but little royal curiosity: 
 
 I know not if he had domestic cares 
 No process proved connubial animosity ; 
 
 Four wives and twice five hundred maids, unseen, 
 
 Were ruled as calmly as a Christian queen. 
 
 CXLIX. 
 
 If now and then there happen'd a slight slip, 
 Little was heard of criminal or crime ; 
 
 The story scarcely pass'd a single lip 
 The sack and sea had settled all in time, 
 
 From which the secret nobody could rip : 
 The public knew no more than does this rhyme; 
 
 No scandals made the daily press a curse 
 
 Morals were better, and the fish no worse.
 
 CANTO v. DON JUAN. 290 
 
 CL. 
 
 He saw with his own eyes the moou was round, 
 Was also certain that the earth was square. 
 
 Because he had journey'd fifty miles and found 
 No sign that it was circular any where ; 
 
 His empire also was without a bound : 
 'Tis true, a little troubled here and there, 
 
 By rebel pachas, and encroaching giaours, 
 
 But then they never came to " the Seven Towers ;" 
 
 CLI. 
 
 Except in shape of envoys, who were sent 
 To lodge there when a war broke out, according 
 
 To the true law of nations, which ne'er meant 
 Those scoundrels, who have never had a sword in 
 
 Their dirty diplomatic hands, to vent 
 
 Their spleen in making strife, and safely wording 
 
 Their lies, yclep'd despatches, without risk or 
 
 The singeing of a single inky whisker. 
 
 CLII. 
 
 He had fifty daughters and four dozen sons, 
 Of whom all such as came of age were stow'd, 
 
 The former in a palace, where like nuns 
 
 They lived till some bashaw was sent abroad, 
 
 When she, whose turn it was, wedded at once, 
 Sometimes at six years old though this seems odd, 
 
 'Tis true ; the reason is, that the bashaw 
 
 Must make a present to his sire in law.
 
 300 DON JUAN. CANTO v 
 
 CLIII. 
 
 His sons were kept in prison, till they grew 
 Of years to fill a bowstring or the throne, 
 
 One or the other, but which of the two 
 Could yet be known unto the fates alone ; 
 
 Meantime the education they went through 
 Was princely, as the proofs have always shown : 
 
 So that the heir apparent still was found 
 
 No less deserving to be hang'd than crown'd. 
 
 CLIV. 
 
 His majesty saluted his fourth spouse 
 
 With all the ceremonies of his rank, 
 Who clear'd her sparkling eyes and smooth'd her brows, 
 
 As suits a matron who has play'd a prank ; 
 These must seem doubly mindful of their vows, 
 
 To save the credit of their breaking bank : 
 To no men are such cordial greetings given 
 As those whose wives have made them fit for heaven. 
 
 CLV. 
 
 His highness cast around his great black eyes, 
 And looking, as he always look'd, perceived 
 
 Juan amongst the damsels in disguise, 
 
 At which he seem'd no whit surprised nor grieved, 
 
 But just remark'd with air sedate and wise, 
 While still a fluttering sigh Gulleyaz heaved, 
 
 " I see you've bought another girl ; 'tis pity 
 
 " That a mere Christian should be half so pretty."
 
 CANTO v. DON JUAN. 30 1 
 
 CLV1. 
 
 This compliment, which drew all eyes upon 
 The new-bought virgin, made her blush and shake. 
 
 Her comrades, also, thought themselves undone : 
 Oh! Mahomet! that his majesty should take 
 
 Such notice of a giaour, while scarce to one 
 Of them his lips imperial ever spake ! 
 
 There was a general whisper, toss, and wriggle, 
 
 But etiquette forbade them all to giggle. 
 
 CLV1J. 
 
 The Turks do well to shut at least, sometimes 
 The women up because in sad reality, 
 
 Their chastity in these unhappy climes 
 Is not a thing of that astringent quality, 
 
 Which in the north prevents precarious crimes, 
 And makes our snow less pure than our morality , 
 
 The sun, which yearly melts the polar ice, 
 
 Has quite the contrary effect on vice, 
 
 CLVIII. 
 
 Thus far our chronicle ; and now we pause, 
 Though not for want of matter ; but 'tis time, 
 
 According to the ancient epic laws, 
 
 To slacken sail, and anchor with our rhyme. 
 
 Let this fifth canto meet with due applause, 
 The sixth shall have a touch of the sublime ; 
 
 Meanwhile, as Homer sometimes sleeps, perhaps 
 
 You'll pardon to my muse a few short naps.^
 
 NOTES TO CANTO V. 
 
 Note 1, page 250, stanza iii. 
 TJie ocean stream. 
 
 THIS expression of Homer has been much criticised. It hardly 
 answers to our atlantic ideas of the ocean, but is sufficiently ap- 
 plicable to the Hellespont, and the Bosphorus, with the ^gean 
 intersected with islands. 
 
 Note 2, page 250, stanza v. 
 
 " The Giant's Grave." 
 
 " The Giant's Grave" is a heighten the Adriatic shore of the 
 Bosphorus, much frequented by holiday parties : like Harrow 
 and Highgate. 
 
 Note 8, page 260, stanza xxxiii. 
 And running out as fast as I was able. 
 
 The assassination alluded to took place on the eighth of Decem- 
 ber, 1820, in the streets of R , not a hundred paces from 
 
 the residence of the writer. The circumstances were as described. 
 
 Note 4, page 260, stanza xxxiv. 
 Kill'd by five bulletsfrom an old gun barrel. 
 There was found close by him an old gun barrel, sawn half off : 
 it had just been discharged, and was still warm.
 
 304 NOTES TO CANTO V. 
 
 Note 5, page 266, stanza liii. 
 Prepared for supper with a glass of rum. 
 
 In Turkey nothing is more common than for the Mussulmans 
 to take several glasses of strong spirits by way of appetizer. I 
 have seen them take as many as six of raki before dinner, and 
 swear that they dined the better for it : I tried the expe- 
 riment, but was like the Scotchman, who having heard that the 
 birds called kittiewiaks were admirable whets, ate six of them, 
 and complained that " he was no hungrier than wlien he began" 
 
 Note 6, page 267, stanza Iv. 
 Splendid but silent, save in one, where, dropping, 
 
 A marble fountain echoes. 
 
 A common furniture. I recollect being received by Ali Pacha, 
 in a room containing a marble basin and fountain, &c. &c. &c. 
 
 Note 7, page 278, stanza Ixxxvii. 
 The gate so splendid was in all its features. 
 Features of a gate -a ministerial metaphor ; " feature upon 
 which this question hinges." See the " Fudge Family," or hear 
 Castlereagh. 
 
 Note 8, page 284, stanza cvi 
 Though on more thorough-bred or fairer fingers. 
 There is perhaps nothing more distinctive of birth than the 
 hand : it is almost the only sign of blood which aristocracy can 
 generate. 
 
 Note 9, page 298, stanza cxlvii. 
 Save Solyman, the glory of their line. 
 
 It may not be unworthy of remark, that Bacon, in his essay on 
 " Empire," hints that Solyman was the lart of his line ; on what
 
 NOTES TO CANTO V. 
 
 authority, I know not. These are his wordy : " The destruction 
 of Mustapha was so fatal to Solyman's line, as the succession of 
 the Turks from Solyman, until this day, is suspected to be untrue, 
 and of strange blood ; for that Solynius the second was thought 
 to be supposititious." But Bacon in his historical authorities, is 
 often inaccurate. I could give half a dozen, instances from his 
 apophthegms only. 
 
 Being in the humour of criticism,! shall proceed, after having 
 ventured upon the slips of Bacon, to touch on one or two as tri- 
 fling in the edition of the British Poets, by the justly cele- 
 brated Campbell. But I do this in good will, and trust it will 
 be so taken. If any thing could add to my opinion of the 
 talents and true feeling of that gentleman, it would be his clas- 
 sical, honest, and triumphant defence of Pope, against the vul- 
 gar cant of the day, and its existing Grub-street. 
 
 The inadvertencies to which I alluded are, 
 Firstly, in speaking of Anstey, whom' he accuses of having- 
 taken " bis leading characters from Smollett." Anstey's Bath 
 Guide was published in 1766. Smollett's Humphry Clinker, 
 (the only work of Smollett's from which Tabitha, &c. &c. could 
 have been taken) was written during Smollett's last residence at 
 Leghorn in 1770." Argal," if there has been any borrowing-, 
 Anstey must be the creditor, and not the debtor. I refer Mr. 
 Campbell to his own data in his lives of Smollett and Ansteii. 
 
 Secondly, Mr. Campbell says in the life of Cowper (note to 
 page 358, vol 7) that " he knows not to whom Cowper alludes 
 in these lines : 
 
 " Nor he who, for the bane of thousands born, 
 
 " Built Gad a church, and laughthis word to scorn." 
 
 The Calvinist meant Voltaire, and the church of Ferney, with 
 its inscription, " Deo erexit Voltaire." 
 
 VOL. r, x
 
 306 NOTES TO CANTO V. 
 
 Thirdly, in the life of Burns, Mr. C. quotes Shakspeare 
 thus, 
 
 " To gild refined gold, to paint the rote, 
 " Or add fresh perfume to the violet," 
 
 This version by no means improves the original, which is as 
 follows : 
 
 " To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, 
 " To throw a perfume on the violet," &c. 
 
 KING JOHN. 
 
 A great poet quoting another should be correct; he should 
 also be accurate, when he accuses a Parnassian brotherjof that 
 dangerous charge " borrowing :" a poet had better borrow any 
 thing (excepting money) than the thoughts of another they are 
 always sure to be reclaimed ; but it is very hard, having been 
 the lender, to be denounced as the debtor, as is the case of 
 Anstey versus Smollett. 
 
 As there is " honour amongst thieves," let there be some 
 amongst poets, and give each his due, none can afibrd to give 
 it more than Mr. Campbell himself, who with a high reputation 
 for orginality, and a fame which cannot be shaken, is the only poet 
 of the times (except Rogers), who can be reproached (and in 
 him it is indeed tv reproach)with having written too little*
 
 DON JUAN. 
 
 CANTO VI.
 
 PREFACE 
 
 CANTOS VI. VII. AND VIII. 
 
 THE details of the Siege of Ismail in two of the fol- 
 lowing Cantos u. e. the 7th and 8th) are taken from a 
 French work, entitled " Histoire de la Nouvelle Russie." 
 Some of the incidents attributed to Don Juan really 
 occurred, particularly the circumstance of his saving 
 the infant, which was the actual case of the late Due 
 de Richelieu, then a young volunteer in the Russian 
 service, and afterwards the founder and benefactor of 
 Odessa, where his name and memory can never cease 
 to be regarded with reverence. In the course of these 
 Cantos, a stanza or two will be found relative to the 
 late Marquis of Londonderry, but written some time be- 
 fore his decease. Had that person's Oligarchy died 
 with him, they would have been suppressed ; as it is, I 
 am aware of nothing in the manner of his death or of 
 his life to prevent the free expression of the opinions 
 of all whom his whole existence was consumed in en- 
 deavouring to enslave. That he was an amiable man in 
 private life, may or may not be true; but with this the
 
 310 PREFACE. 
 
 Public have nothing to do ; and as to lamenting his 
 death, it will be time enough when Ireland has ceased 
 to mourn for his birth. As a Minister, I, for one of 
 millions, looked upon him as the most despotic in in- 
 tention and the weakest in intellect that ever tyrannized 
 over a country. It is the first time indeed since the 
 Normans, that England has been insulted by a Minister 
 (at least) who could not speak English, and that Par- 
 liament permitted itself to be dictated to in the language 
 of Mrs. Malaprop. 
 
 Of the manner of his death little need be said, ex- 
 cept that if a poor radical, such as Waddington or Wat- 
 son, had cut his throat, he would have been buried in a 
 cross-road, with the usual appurtenances of the stake 
 and mallet. But the minister was an elegant Lunatic 
 a sentimental Suicide he merely cut the " carotid ar- 
 tery" (blessings on their learning) and lo ! the Pageant, 
 and the Abbey ! and " the Syllables of Dolour yelled 
 forth" by the Newspapers and the harangue of the Co- 
 roner in an eulogy over the bleeding body of the deceased 
 (an Anthony worthy of such a Caesar) and the nau- 
 seous and atrocious cant of a degraded Crew of Conspi- 
 rators against all that is sincere and honourable. In his 
 death he was necessarily one of two things by the law 
 a felon or a madman and in either case no great 
 subject for panegyric.* In his life he was what all 
 
 * I say by the law of the tend the laws of humanity judge 
 more gently ; but as the legitimates have always the law in their 
 mouths, let them here make the most of it.
 
 PREFACE. 311 
 
 the world knows, and half of it will feel for years to 
 come, unless his death prove a " moral lesson" to the 
 surviving Sejani * of Europe. It may at least serve as 
 some consolation to the Nations, that their Oppressors 
 are not happy, and in some instances judge so justly of 
 their o\vn actions as to anticipate the sentence of man- 
 kind. Let us hear no more of this man ; and let Ire- 
 land remove the Ashes of her Grattan from the Sanc- 
 tuary of Westminster. Shall the Patriot of Humanity 
 repose by the Werther of Politics ! ! ! 
 
 With regard to the objections which have been made 
 on another score to the already published Cantos of this 
 poem, 1 shall content myself with two quotations from 
 Voltaire : 
 
 " La pudeur s'est enfuite descoeurs, et s'est refugiee 
 sur les livres.' 1 
 
 " Plus les moaurs sont depraves plus les expressions 
 deviennent mesurees ! on croit regagner en langage ce 
 qu'on a perdu en vertu." 
 
 This is the real fact, as applicable to the degraded and 
 hypocritical mass which leavens the present English ge- 
 neration, and is the only answer they deserve- The 
 hackneyed and lavished title of Blasphemer which, 
 with radical, liberal, jacobin, reformer, &c. are the 
 changes which the hirelings are daily ringing in the ears 
 
 * From this number must be excepted Canning : Canning is 
 a genius, almost an universal one, an orator, a wit, a poet, a 
 statesman ; and no man of talent can long pursue the path of 
 his late predecessor Lord C. If ever man saved his country, 
 C.mning can; but will he ? I for one, hope sot 
 
 8
 
 312 PREFACE. 
 
 of those who will listen should be welcome to all who 
 recollect on whom it was originally bestowed. Socrates 
 and Jesus Christ were put to death publicly as Blas- 
 j,hemers> and so have been and may be many who dare 
 to oppose the most notorious abuses of the name of 
 God and the mind of man. But Persecution is not re- 
 futation, nor even triumph: the " wretched Infidel," as 
 he is called, is probably happier in his prison than the 
 proudest of his Assailants. With his opinions I have 
 nothing to do they may be right or wrong but he has 
 suffered for them, and that very suffering for conscience- 
 sake will make more proselytes to Deism than the 
 example of heterodox.* Prelates to Christianity, suicide 
 Statesmen to oppression, or over-pensioned Homicides 
 to the 'impious Alliance which insults the world with 
 the name of "Holy!" I have no wish to trample on 
 the dishonoured or the dead ; but it would be well if the 
 adherents to the Classes from whence those persons 
 sprung should abate a little of the Cant which is the 
 crying sin of this double-dealing and false-speaking 
 
 time of selfish Spoilers, and but enough for the 
 
 present. 
 
 * When Lord Sandwich said " he did not now the differ- 
 ence between Orthodoxy and Heterodoxy" Warburtoa the 
 bishop replied, " Orthodoxy, my Lord, is my doxy, and Hete- 
 rodoxy is another man's doxy : A Prelate of the present day 
 has discovered, it seems, a third kind of doxy, which has not 
 greatly exalted in the eyes of the elect that which Bentham 
 calls " Ghurch-of-Englandism."
 
 DON JUAN. 
 
 CANTO VI. 
 
 I. 
 
 " THERE is a tide in the affairs of men 
 
 " Which taken at the flood" you know the rest, 
 
 And most of us have found it, now and then; 
 
 At least we think so, though but few have guess'd 
 
 The moment, till too late to come again. 
 But no doubt every thing is for the best 
 
 Of which the surest sign is in the end : 
 
 When things are at the worst they sometimes mend. 
 
 II. 
 
 There is a tide in the affairs of women, 
 
 " Which taken at the flood leads'' God knows where 
 Those navigators must be able seamen : 
 
 Whose charts lay down its current to a hair; 
 Not all the reveries of Jacob Behmen 
 
 With its strange whirls and eddies can compare : 
 Men with their heads reflect on this and that 
 But women with their hearts or heaven knows what!
 
 314 DON JUAN. CANTO vi. 
 
 HI. 
 
 And yet a headlong, headstrong, downright she, 
 Young, beautiful, and daring who would risk 
 
 A throne, the world, the universe, to be 
 Beloved in her own way, and rather whisk 
 
 The stars from out the sky, than not be free 
 As are the billows when the breeze is brisk 
 
 Though such a she's a devil (if that there be one) 
 
 Yet she would make full many a Manichean. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Thrones, worlds, et cetera, are so oft upset 
 By commonest Ambition, that when Passion 
 
 (Verthrows the same, we readily forget, 
 Or at the least forgive, the loving rash one. 
 
 If Anthony be well remembered yet, 
 'Tis not his conquests keep his name in fashion ; 
 
 But Actium, lost for Cleopatra's eyes, 
 
 Outbalance all the Caesar's victories. 
 
 V. 
 
 He died at fifty for a queen of forty ; 
 
 I wish their years had been fifteen and twenty, 
 For then wealth, kingdoms, worlds are but a sport I 
 
 Remember , when though I had no great plenty 
 Of worlds to lose, yet still, to pay my court, I 
 
 Gave what I had a heart : as the world went, I 
 Gave what was worth a world ; for worlds could never 
 Restore me those pure feelings, gone for ever.
 
 CANTO VT. DON JUAN. 315 
 
 VI. 
 
 " 'Twas the boy's mite," and like the "widow's" may 
 Perhaps be weighed hereafter, if not now; 
 
 But whether such things do or do not weigh, 
 All who have loved, or love, will still allow 
 
 Life has nought like it. God is love, they say, 
 And Love's a God, or was before the brow 
 
 Of Earth was wrinkled by the sins and tears 
 
 Of but Chronology best knows the years. 
 
 VII. 
 
 We left our hero and third heroine in 
 A kind of state more awkward than uncommon, 
 
 For gentlemen must sometimes risk their skin 
 For that sad tempter, a forbidden woman : 
 
 Sultans too much abhor this sort of sin, 
 
 And don't agree at all with the wise Roman, 
 
 Heroic, stoic Cato, the sententious, 
 
 Who lent his lady to his friend Hortensius. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 I know Gulleyaz was extremely wrong; 
 
 I own it, I deplore it, I condemn it; 
 But I detest all fiction even in song, 
 
 And so must tell the truth, howe'er you blame it. 
 Her reason being weak, her passions strong, 
 
 She thought that her lord's heart (even could she 
 
 claim it) 
 
 Was scarce enough; for he had fifty-nine 
 Years, and a fifteen-hundredth concubine.
 
 316 DON JUAN. CANTO vi. 
 
 IX. 
 
 I ain not, like Cassio, " an arithmetician," 
 But by " the bookish theoric'' it appears, 
 
 If 'tis summed up with feminine precision, 
 
 That, adding to the account his Highness' years, 
 
 The fair Sultana erred from inanition; 
 For were the Sultan just to all his dears, 
 
 She could but claim the fifteenth hundred part 
 
 Of what should be monopoly the heart. 
 
 X. 
 
 It is observed that ladies are litigious 
 
 Upon all legal objects of possession, 
 And not the least so when they are religious, 
 
 Which doubles what they think of the transgression. 
 With suits and prosecutions they besiege us, 
 
 As the tribunals show through many a session, 
 When they suspect that any one goes shares 
 In that to which the law makes them sole heirs. 
 
 XL 
 
 Now if this holds good in a Christian land, 
 The heathen also, though with lesser latitude, 
 
 Are apt to carry things with a high hand, 
 
 And take, what kings call " an imposing attitude ;" 
 
 And for their rights connubial make a stand, 
 
 When their liege husbands treat them with ingratitude : 
 
 >And as four wives must have quadruple claims, 
 
 The Tigris hath its jealousies like Thames.
 
 CANTO vi. - DON JUAN. 317 
 
 XII. 
 
 Gulleyaz was the fourth, and (as I said) 
 The favourite ; but what's favour amongst four? 
 
 Polygamy may well be held in dread, 
 Not only as a sin, but as a bore : 
 
 Most wise men with one moderate woman wed, 
 Will scarcely find philosophy for more ; 
 
 And all (except Mahometans) forbear 
 
 To make the nuptial couch a "Bed of Ware." 
 
 XIII. 
 His Highness, the sublimest of mankind, 
 
 So styled according to the usual forms 
 Of every monarch, till they are consigned 
 
 To those sad hungry jacobins the worms, 
 Who on the very loftiest kings have dined, 
 
 His Highness gazed upon Gulleyaz' charms, 
 Expecting all the welcome of a lover, 
 (A " Highland welcome" all the wide world over.) 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Now here we should distinguish ; for howe'er 
 Kisses, sweet words, embraces, and all that, 
 
 May look like what is neither here nor there, 
 They are put on as easily as a hat, 
 
 Or rather bonnet, which the fair sex wear, 
 Trimmed either heads or hearts to decorate 
 
 Which form an ornament, but no more part 
 
 Of heads, than their caresses of the heart
 
 318 DON JUAN. CANTO vi. 
 
 XV. 
 
 A slight blush, a soft tremor, a calm' kind 
 Of gentle feminine delight, and shown 
 
 More in the eyelids than the eyes, resigned 
 Rather to hide what pleases most unknown, 
 
 Are the best tokens (to a modest mind) 
 Of love, when seated on his loveliest throne, 
 
 A sincere woman's breast for over warm 
 
 Or over cold annihilates the charm. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 For over warmth, if false, is worse than truth j 
 If true, 'tis no great lease of its own fire ; 
 
 For no one, save in very early youth, 
 Would like (I think) to trust all to desire, 
 
 Which is but a precarious bond, in sooth, 
 And apt to be transferred to the first buyer 
 
 At a sad discount : while your over chilly 
 
 Women, on t'other hand, seem somewhat silly. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 That is, we cannot pardon their bad taste, 
 For so it seems to lovers swift or slow, 
 
 Who fain would have a mutual flame confest, 
 And see a sentimental passion glow, 
 
 Even were St. Francis' paramour their guest, 
 In his Monastic Concubine of Snow j 
 
 In short, the maxim for the amorous tribe is 
 
 Horatian, "Medio tu tutissimus ibis."
 
 CANTO VI. DON JUAN. 319 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 The " tu" 's too much, but let it standthe verse 
 Requires it, that's to say, the English rhyme, 
 
 And not the pink of old Hexameters; 
 But, after all, there's neither tune nor time 
 
 In the last line, which cannot well be worse, 
 And was thrust in to close the octave's chime : 
 
 I own no prosody can'ever rate it 
 
 As a rule, but Truth may, if you translate it. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 If fair Gulleyaz overdid her part, 
 
 I know not it succeeded, and success 
 
 Is much in most things, not less in the heart 
 Than other articles of female dress. 
 
 Self-love in man too beats all female art; 
 They lie, we lie, all lie, but love no less : 
 
 And no one virtue yet, except Starvation, 
 
 Could stop that worst of vices Propagation. 
 
 XX. 
 
 We leave this royal couple to repose ; 
 
 A bed is not a throne, and they may sleep 
 Whate'er their dreams be, if of joys or woes ; 
 
 Yet disappointed joys are woes as deep 
 As any man's clay mixture undergoes. ., 
 
 Our least of sorrows are such as we weep,- 
 Tis the vile daily drop on drop which wears 
 The soul out (like the stone) with petty cares.
 
 320 DON JUAN. CANTO vi. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 A scolding wife, a sullen son, a bill 
 To pay, unpaid, protested, or discounted 
 
 At a per-centage ; a child cross, dog ill, 
 
 A favourite horse fallen lame just as he's mounted ; 
 
 A bad old woman making a worse will, 
 Which leaves you minus of the cash you counted 
 
 As certain; these are paltry things, and yet 
 
 I've rarely seen the man they did not fret. 
 
 XXII. 
 I'm a philosopher ; confound them all ! 
 
 Bills, beasts, and men, and no ! not Womankind ; 
 With one good hearty curse I vent my gall, 
 
 And then my Stoicism leaves nought behind 
 Which it can neither pain or evil call, 
 
 And I can give my whole soul up to mind ; 
 Though what is soul or mind, their birth or growth, 
 Is more than I know the deuce take them both. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 So now all things are d n'd, one feels at ease, 
 
 As after reading Athanasius' curse, 
 Which doth your true believer so much please : 
 
 I doubt if any now could make it worse 
 O'er his worst enemy when at his knees. 
 
 Tis so sententious, positive, and terse, 
 And decorates the book of Common Prayer 
 As doth a Rainbow the just clearing air.
 
 CANTO VI. DON JUAN- 321 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Gulleyaz and her lord were sleeping, or 
 At least one of them Oh the heavy night ! 
 
 When wicked wives who love some bachelor 
 Lie down in dudgeon to sigh for the light 
 
 Of the grey morning, and look vainly for 
 Its twinkle through the lattice dusky quite, 
 
 To toss, to tumble, doze, revive, and quake 
 
 Lest their too lawful bed-fellow should wake. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 These are beneath the canopy of heaven, 
 
 Also beneath the canopy of beds 
 Four-posted and silk curtained, which are given 
 
 For rich men and their brides to lay their heads 
 Upon, in sheets white as what bards call "driven 
 
 Snow." Well!. 'tis all hap-hazard when one weds. 
 Gulleyaz was an empress, but had been 
 Perhaps as wretched if a peasant's quean. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Don Juan in his feminine disguise, 
 
 With all the damsels in their long array, 
 
 Had bowed themselves before the imperial eyes, 
 And at the usual signal ta'en their way 
 
 Back to their chambers, those long galleries 
 In the Seraglio, where the ladies lay 
 
 Their delicate limbs ; a thousand bosoms there 
 
 Beating for love as the caged birds for air. 
 VOL. r. y
 
 322 DON JUAN. CANTO vi. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 I love the sex, and sometimes would reverse 
 The tyrant's wish, " that mankind only had 
 
 " One neck, which he with one fell stroke might pierce :" 
 My wish is quite as wide, but not so bad, 
 
 And much more tender on the whole than fierce ; 
 It being (not now, but only while a lad) 
 
 That Womankind had but one rosy mouth, 
 
 To kiss them all at once from North to South. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Oh enviable Briareus ! with thy hands 
 And heads, if thou hadst all things multiplied 
 
 In such proportion ! But my Muse withstands 
 The giant thought of being a Titan's bride, 
 
 Or travelling in Patagonian lands j 
 So let us back to Lilliput, and guide 
 
 Our hero through the labyrinth of love 
 
 In which we left him several lines above. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 He went forth with the lovely Odalisques, 
 At the given signal joined to their array ; 
 
 And though he certainly ran many risks, 
 Yet he could not at times keep, by the way, 
 
 (Although the consequences of such frisks 
 Are worse than the worst damages men pay 
 
 In moral England, where the thing's a tax) 
 
 From ogling all their charms from breasts to backs.
 
 CANTO vi. DON JUAN. 323 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Still he forgot not his disguise; along 
 The galleries from room to room they walked, 
 
 A virgin-like and edifying throng, 
 By eunuchs flanked ; while at their head there stalked 
 
 A dame who kept up discipline among 
 The female ranks, so that none stirred or talked 
 
 Without her sanction on their she-parades : 
 
 Her title was " the Mother of the Maids." 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Whether she was a " mother," I know not, 
 Or whether they were "maids" who called her mother ; 
 
 But this is her seraglio title, got 
 
 I know not how, but good as any other ; 
 
 So Cantemir can tell you, or De Tott : 
 Her office was, to keep aloof or smother 
 
 All bad propensities in fifteen hundred 
 
 Young women, and correct them when they blundered. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 A goodly sinecure, no doubt ! but made 
 
 More easy by the absence of all men 
 Except his majesty, who, with her aid, 
 
 And guards, and bolts, and walls, and now and then 
 A slight example, just to cast a shade 
 
 Along the rest, contrived to keep this den 
 Of beauties cool as an Italian convent, 
 Where all the passions have, alas ! but one vent.
 
 324 DON JUAN. CANTO vi. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 And what is that ? Devotion, doubtless how 
 Could you ask such a question ? but we will 
 
 Continue. As I said, this goodly row 
 Of ladies of all countries at the will 
 
 Of one good man, with stately march and slow, 
 Like water-lilies floating down a rill 
 
 Or rather lake for rills do not run slowly,- -r 
 
 Paced on most maiden-like and melancholy. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 But when they reached their own apartments, there, 
 Like birds or boys, or bedlamites broke loose, 
 
 Waves at spring-tide, or women any where, 
 When freed from bonds (which are of no great use 
 
 After all) or like Irish at a fair, 
 
 Their guards being gone, and as it were a truce 
 
 Established between them and bondage, they 
 
 Began to sing, dance, chatter, smile and play. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Their talk of course ran most on the new comer, 
 Her shape, her hair, her air, her every thing : 
 
 Some thought her dress did not so much become her, 
 Or wondered at her ears without a ring ; 
 
 Some said her years were getting nigh their summer, 
 Others contended they were but in spring ; 
 
 Some thought her rather masculine in height, 
 
 While others wished that she had been so quite.
 
 CANTO vi. DON JUAN. 325 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Hut no one doubted on the whole, that she 
 Was what her dress bespoke, a damsel fair, 
 
 And fresh, and, " beautiful exceedingly,'' 
 
 Who with the brightest Georgians might compare: 
 
 They wondered how Gulleyaz too could be 
 So silly as to buy slaves who might share 
 
 (If that his Highness wearied of his bride) 
 
 Her throne and power and every thing beside. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 But what was strangest in this virgin crew, 
 Although her beauty was enough to vex, 
 After the first investigating view, 
 
 They all found out as few, or fewer, specks 
 In the fair form of their companion new, 
 Than is the custom of the gentle sex, 
 When they survey, with Christian eyes or Heathen, 
 In a new face " the ugliest creature breathing." 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 And yet they had their little jealousies 
 Like all the rest ; but upon this occasion, 
 
 Whether there are such things as sympathies 
 Without our knowledge or our approbation, 
 
 Although they could not see through his disguise, 
 All felt a soft kind of concatenation, 
 
 Like Magnetism, or Devilism, or what 
 
 You please we will not quarrel about that :
 
 DON JUAN. CANTO vi. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 But certain 'tis they all felt for their new 
 Companion something newer still, as 'twere 
 
 A sentimental friendship through and through, 
 Extremely pure, which made them all concur 
 
 In wishing her their sister, save a few 
 Who wished they had a brother, just like her, 
 
 Whom, if they were at home in sweet Circassia, 
 
 They would prefer to Padisha or Pacha. 
 
 XL. 
 
 Of those who had most genius for this sort 
 Of sentimental friendship, there were three, 
 
 Lolah, Katinka, and Dudu ; in short, 
 (To save description) fair as fair can be 
 
 Were they, according to the best report, 
 Though differing in stature and degree, 
 
 And clime and time, and country and complexion j 
 
 They all alike admired their new connexion. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Lolah was dusk as India and as warm ; 
 
 Katinka was a Georgian, white and red, 
 With great blue eyes, a lovely hand and arm, 
 
 And feet so small they scarce seemed made to tread, 
 But rather skim the earth ; while Dudu's form 
 
 Looked more adapted to be put to bed, 
 Being somewhat large and languishing and lazy, 
 Yet of a beauty that would drive you crazy.
 
 CANTO vi. DON JUAN. 327 
 
 XLII. 
 
 A kind of sleepy Venus seemed Dudfr., 
 Yet very fit to " murder sleep" in those 
 
 Who gazed upon her cheek's transcendant hue, 
 Her Attic forehead, and her Phidian nose , 
 
 Few angles were there in her form 'tis true, 
 Thinner she might have been and yet scarce lose j 
 
 Yet, after all, 'twould puzzle to say where 
 
 It would not spoil some separate charm to pare. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 She was not violently lively, but 
 
 Stole on your spirit like a May-day breaking; 
 Her eyes were not too sparkling, yet, half-shut, 
 
 They put beholders in a tender taking j 
 She looked (this simile 's quite new) just cut 
 
 From marble, like Pygmalion's statue waking, 
 The Mortal and the Marble still at strife, 
 And timidly expanding into life. 
 
 XL1V. 
 
 Lolah demanded the new damsel's name 
 " Juanna. 1 ' Well, a pretty name enough. 
 
 Katinka asked her also whence she came 
 
 " From Spain." " But where is Spain?"" Don't 
 " ask such stuff, 
 
 " Nor show your Georgian ignorance for shame !" 
 Said Lolah, with an accent rather rough, 
 
 To poor Katinka : " Spain's an island near 
 
 Morocco, betwixt Egypt and Tangier."
 
 328 DON JUAN. CANTO vi. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 Dudi said nothing, but sat down beside 
 Juanna, playing with her veil or hair ; 
 
 And looking at her steadfastly, she sigh'd, 
 As if she pitied her for being there, 
 
 A pretty stranger without friend or guide, 
 And all abashed too at the general stare 
 
 Which welcomes hapless strangers in all places, 
 
 With kind remarks upon their mien and faces. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 But here the Mother of the Maids drew near, 
 W r ith, " Ladies, it is time to go to rest. 
 
 " I'm puzzled what to do with you, my dear," 
 She added to Juanna, their new guest : 
 
 " Your coming has been unexpected here, 
 " And every couch is occupied ; you had best 
 
 " Partake of mine ; but by to-morrow early 
 
 " We will have all things settled for you fairly." 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 Here Lolah interposed " Mamma, you know 
 " You don't sleep soundly, and I cannot bear 
 
 " That any body should disturb you so ; 
 " I '11 take Juanna ; we're a slenderer pair 
 
 " Than you would make the half of ; don't say no ; 
 " And I of your young charge will take due care.'* 
 
 But here Katinka interfered and said, 
 
 " She also had compassion and a bed.'*
 
 CANTO vi. DON JUAN. 39 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 " Besides, I hate to sleep alone," quoth she. 
 
 The Matron frowned : " Why so " " For fear 
 
 of ghosts," 
 Replied Katinka ; " I am sure I see 
 
 " A phantom upon each of the four posts ; 
 " And then I have the worst dreams that can be, 
 
 " Of Guebres, Giaours, and Ginns, and Gouls in hosts." 
 The Dame replied, " Between your dreams and you 
 " I fear Juanna's dreams would be but few. 
 
 XLXIX. 
 
 " You, Lolali, must continue still to lie 
 
 " Alone, for reasons which don't matter; you 
 
 " The same, Katinka, until by and bye ; 
 " And I shall place Juanna with Dudu, 
 
 " Who's quiet, inoffensive, silent, shy, 
 " And will not toss and chatter the night through. 
 
 " What say you, child ?" Dudti said nothing, as 
 
 Her talents were of the more silent class ; 
 
 L. 
 
 But she rose up, and kissed the Matron's brow 
 Between the eyes, and Lolah on both cheeks, 
 Katinka too ; and with a gentle bow 
 
 (Curtsies are neither used by Turks nor Greeks) 
 She took Juanna by the band to show 
 
 Their place of rest, and left to both their piques, 
 The others pouting at the Matron's preference 
 Of Dudft, though they held their tongues from deference.
 
 330 DON JUAN. CANTO vi. 
 
 LI. 
 
 It was a spacious chamber (Oda is 
 The Turkish title) and ranged round the wall 
 
 Were couches, toilets and much more than this 
 I might describe, as I have seen it all, 
 
 But it suffices little was amiss ; 
 'Tvvas on the whole a nobly furnished hall, 
 
 With all things ladies want, save one or two, 
 
 And even those were nearer than they knew. 
 
 L1I. 
 
 Dudu, as has been said, was a sweet creature, 
 Not very dashing, but extremely winning, 
 
 With the most regulated charms of feature, 
 Which painters cannot catch like faces sinning 
 
 Against proportion the wild strokes of nature 
 Which they hit off at once in the beginning, 
 
 Full of expression, right or wrong, that strike, 
 
 And pleasing or unpleasing, still are like. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 But she was a soft Landscape of mild Earth, 
 Where all was harmony and calm and quiet, 
 
 Luxuriant, budding; cheerful without mirth, 
 Which if not happiness, is much more nigh it 
 
 Than are your mighty passions and so forth, 
 
 Which some call " the sublime :" I wish they'd try it ; 
 
 I've seen your stormy seas and stormy women, 
 
 And pity lovers rather more than seamen.
 
 CANTO vi. DON JUAN. 331 
 
 L1V. 
 
 But she was pensive more than melancholy, 
 And serious more than pensive, and serene, 
 
 It may be more than either not unholy 
 Her thoughts, at least till now, appear to have been 
 
 The strangest thing was, beauteous, she was wholly 
 Unconscious, albeit turned of quick seventeen. 
 
 That she was fair, or dark, or short, or tall ; 
 
 She never thought about herself at all. 
 
 LV. 
 
 And therefore was she kind and gentle as 
 The age of Gold (when Gold was yet unknown, 
 
 By which its nomenclature came to pass ; 
 Thus most appropriately has been shown 
 
 " Lucus a nan Lucendo,'' not what was, 
 But what wan not ; a sort of style that's grown 
 
 Extremely common in this age, whose metal 
 
 The devil may decompose but never settle ; 
 
 LVI. 
 
 I think it may be of " Corinthian Brass," 
 Which was a Mixture of all Metals, but 
 
 The Brazen uppermost.) Kind reader ! pass 
 This long parenthesis : I could not shut 
 
 It sooner for the soul of me, and class 
 
 My faults even with your own ! which meaneth, Put 
 
 A kind construction upon them and me: 
 
 But that you won't then don't I am not less free.
 
 332 DON JUAN. CANTO vi. 
 
 LVJI. 
 
 Tis time we should return to plain narration, 
 And thus my narrative proceeds : Dudti, 
 
 With every kindness short of ostentation, 
 
 Shewed Juan, or Juanna, through and through 
 
 This labyrinth of females, and each station 
 Described what's strange in words extremely few: 
 
 I have but one simile, and that's a blunder, 
 
 For wordless woman, which is silent Thunder. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 And next she gave her (I say her, because 
 The Gender still was Epicene, at least 
 
 In outward show, which is a saving clause) 
 An outline of the Customs of the East, 
 
 With all their chaste integrity of laws, 
 By which the more a Harem is increased, 
 
 The stricter doubtless grow the vestal duties 
 
 Of any supernumerary beauties. 
 
 L1X. 
 
 And then she gave Juanna a chaste kiss : 
 DudCi was fond of kissing which I 'm sure 
 
 That nobody can ever take amiss, 
 Because 'tis pleasant, so that it be pure, 
 
 And between females means no more than this 
 That they have nothing better near, or newer. 
 
 " Kiss" rhymes to " bliss" in fact as well as verse 
 
 I wish it never led to something worse.
 
 CANTO vi. DON JUAN. 833 
 
 LX. 
 
 In perfect Innocence she then unmade 
 Her toilet, which cost little, for she was 
 
 A Child of Nature, carelessly arrayed : 
 If fond of a chance ogle at her glass, 
 
 'Twas like the fawn which, in the lake displayed, 
 Beholds her own shy, shadowy image pass, 
 
 When first she starts, and then returns to peep 
 
 Admiring this new Native of the deep. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 And one by one her articles of dress 
 Were laid aside ; but not before she offered 
 
 Her aid to fair Juanna, whose excess 
 Of Modesty declined the assistance proffered : 
 
 Which past well off as she could do no less : 
 Though by this politesse she rather suffered, 
 
 Pricking her fingers with those cursed pins, 
 
 Which surely were invented for our sins, 
 
 LXII. 
 
 Making a woman like a porcupine, 
 
 Not to be rashly touched. But still more dread, 
 Oh ye ! whose fate it is, as once 'twas mine, 
 
 In early youth, to turn a lady's maid; 
 I did my very boyish best to shine 
 
 In tricking her out for a masquerade : 
 The pins were placed sufficiently, but not 
 Stuck all exactly in the proper spot.
 
 331 DON JUAN. CANTO vi. 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 But these are foolish things to all the wise, 
 And T love Wisdom more than she loves me j 
 
 My tendency is to philosophize 
 On most things, from a tyrant to a tree ; 
 
 But still the spouseless Virgin Knowledge flies. 
 What are we? and whence came we? -what shall be 
 
 Our ultimate existence ? what's our present ? 
 
 Are questions answerless, and yet incessant. 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 There was deep silence in the chamber : dim 
 And distant from each other burned the lights, 
 
 And Slumber hovered o'er each lovely limb 
 Of the fair occupants : if there be sprites, 
 
 They should have walked there in their spriteliest trim, 
 By way of change from their sepulchral sites, 
 
 And shown themselves as Ghosts of better taste 
 
 Than haunting some old Ruin or wild Waste. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 Many and beautiful lay those around, 
 Like flowers of different hue and clime and root, 
 
 In some exotic garden sometimes found, 
 With cost and care and warmth induced to shoot. 
 
 One with her auburn tresses lightly bound, 
 And fair brows gently drooping, as the fruit 
 
 Nods from the tree, was slumbering with soft breath 
 
 And lips apart, which showed the pearls beneath.
 
 CANTO vi. DON JUAN. 335 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 One with her flushed cheek laid on her white arm, 
 And raven ringlets gathered in dark crowd 
 
 Above her brow, lay dreaming soft and warm ; 
 
 And smiling through her dream, as through a cloud 
 
 The Moon breaks, half unveiled each further charm, 
 As, slightly stirring in her snowy shroud, 
 
 Her beauty seized the unconscious hour of night 
 
 All bashfully to struggle into light. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 This is no bull, although it sounds so ; for 
 
 'Tvvas night, but there were lamps, as hath been said. 
 
 A third's all pallid aspect offered more 
 
 The traits of sleeping Sorrow, and betrayed 
 
 Through the heaved breast the dream of some far shore 
 Beloved and deplored ; while slowly strayed 
 
 (As Night Dew, on a Cypress glittering, tinges 
 
 The black bough) tear drops through her eyes' dark 
 fringes. 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 A fourth as marble, statue-like and still, 
 Lay in a breathless, hushed and stony sleep ; 
 
 White, cold and pure, as looks a frozen rill, 
 Or the snow minaret, on an Alpine steep, 
 
 Or Lot's wife done in salt, or what you will; 
 My similes are gathered in a heap, 
 
 So pick and chuse perhaps you'll be content 
 
 With a carved lady on a monument.
 
 326 DON JUAN. CANTO vi. 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 And lo ! a fifth appears ; and what is she? 
 
 A lady of " a certain age," which means 
 Certainly aged what her years might be 
 
 I know not, never counting past their teens ; 
 But there she slept, not quite so fair to see, 
 
 As ere that awful period intervenes 
 Which lays both men and women on the shelf, 
 To meditate upon their sins and self. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 But all this time how slept, or dreamed, Dudi\ ? 
 
 With strict enquiry I could ne'er discover, 
 And scorn to add a syllable untrue ; 
 
 But ere the middle watch was hardly over, 
 Just when the fading lamps waned dim and blue, 
 
 And phantoms hovered, or might seem to hover 
 To those who like their company, about 
 The apartment, on a sudden she screamed out : 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 And that so loudly, that upstarted all 
 
 The Oda, in a general commotion : 
 Matrons and maids, and those whom you may call 
 
 Neither, came crowding like the waves of ocean, 
 One on the other, throughout the whole hall, 
 
 All trembling, wondering, without the least notion, 
 More than I have myself, or what could make 
 The calm Dudti so turbulently wake.
 
 CANTO vi. DON JUAN. 337 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 But wide awake she was, and round her bed, 
 With floating draperies and with flying hair, 
 
 With eager eyes, and light but hurried tread, 
 And bosoms, arms, and ancles glancing bare, 
 
 And bright as any meteor ever bred 
 By the North Pole, they sought her cause of care, 
 
 For she seemed agitated, flushed and frightened, 
 
 Her eye dilated and her colour heightened. 
 
 LXXI1I. 
 
 But what is strange and a strong proof how great 
 A blessing is sound sleep Juanna lay 
 
 As fast as ever husband by his mate 
 In holy matrimony snores a\vay. 
 
 Not all the clamour broke her happy state 
 Of slumber, ere they shook her, so they say 
 
 At least, and then she too unclosed her eyes, 
 
 And yawned a good deal with discreet surprise, 
 
 LXX1V . 
 
 And now commenced a strict investigation, 
 
 Which, as all spoke at once, and niors than once 
 
 Conjecturing, wondering, asking a narration, 
 Alike might puzzle either wit or dunce 
 
 To answer in a very clear oration. 
 Dudu had never passed for wanting sense, 
 
 But being "no orator as Brutus is," 
 
 Coukl not at first expound what was amiss.
 
 338 DON JUAN. CANTO vr. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 At length she said, that in a slumber sound 
 She dreamed a dream, of walking in a wood 
 
 A " wood obscure'' like that where Dante found* 
 Himself in at the age when all grow good ; 
 
 Life's half-way house, where dames with virtue crowiied, 
 Run much less risk of lovers turning rude ; 
 
 And that this wood was full of pleasant fruits, 
 
 And trees of goodly growth and spreading roots; 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 And in the midst a golden apple grew, 
 
 A most prodigious pippin but it hung 
 Jlather too high and distant ; that she threw 
 
 Her glances on it, and then, longing, flung 
 Stones and whatever she could pick up, to 
 
 Bringdown the fruit, which still perversely clung 
 To its own bough, and dangled yet in sight, 
 But always at a most provoking height; 
 
 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 That on a sudden, when she least had hope, 
 
 It fell down of its own accord, before 
 Her feet ; that her first movement was to stoop 
 
 And pick it up, and bite it to the core ; 
 That just as her young lip began to ope 
 
 Upon the golden fruit the vision bore, 
 A bee flew out and stung her to the heart, 
 And so she woke with a great scream and start. 
 
 * " Nel' mezzo del' Cammin' di nostra vita 
 " Mi ritrovai per una Selva oscura," &c. &c. Sec.
 
 CANTO vi. DON JUAN. 339 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 All this she told with some confusion and 
 Dismay, the usual consequence of dreams 
 
 Of the unpleasant kind, with none at hand 
 To expound their vain and visionary gleams- 
 
 I've known some odd ones which seemed really planned 
 Prophetically, or that which one deems 
 
 " A strange coincidence," to use a phrase 
 
 By which such things are settled novv-a-days. 
 
 LXX1X. 
 
 The damsels, who had thoughts of some great harm, 
 
 Began, as is the consequence of fear, 
 To scold a little at the false alarm 
 
 That broke for nothing on their sleeping ear. 
 The matron too was wroth to leave her warm 
 
 Bed for the dream she had been obliged to hear, 
 And chafed at poor Dudu, who only sighed, 
 And said, that she was sorry she had cried. 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 " I've heard of stories of a cock and bull ; 
 
 " But visions of an apple and a bee, 
 '' To take us from our natural rest, and pull 
 
 " The whole Oda from their beds at half-past three, 
 " Would make us think the moon is at its full. 
 
 " You surely are unwell, child ! we must see, 
 " To-morrow, what his Higlmess's physician 
 " Will say to this hysteric of a vision.
 
 340 DON JUAN. CANTO vi. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 " And poor Juanna too ! the child's first night 
 
 " Within these walls, to be broke in upon 
 " With such a clamour I had thought it right 
 
 " That the young stranger should not lie alone, 
 " And as the quietest of all, she might 
 
 " With you, Dudu, a good night's rest have known ; 
 " But now I must transfer her to the charge 
 
 " Of Lolah though her couch is not so large." 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 Lolah's eyes sparkled at the proposition ; 
 
 But poor Dudti with large drops in her own, 
 Resulting from the scolding or the vision, 
 
 Implored that present pardon might be shown 
 For this first fault, and that on no condition 
 
 (She added in a soft and piteous tone) 
 Juanna should be taken from her, and 
 
 Her future dreams should all be kept in hand. 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 She promised never more to have a dream, 
 At least to dream so loudly as just now; 
 
 She xvondered at herself how she could scream 
 'Twas foolish, nervous, as she must allow, 
 
 A fond hallucination, and a theme 
 
 For laughter but she felt her spirits low, 
 
 And begged they would excuse her ; she'd get over 
 
 This weakness in a few hours, and recover.
 
 CANTO vi. DON JUAN. 341 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 And here Juanna kindly interposed, 
 And said she felt herself extremely well 
 
 Where she then was, as her sound sleep disclosed 
 When all around rang like a tocsin bell : 
 
 She did not find herself the least disposed 
 To quit her gentle partner, and to dwell 
 
 Apart from one who had no sin to show 
 
 Save that of dreaming once " mal-a-propos.*' 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 As thus Juanna spoke Dudu turned round 
 And hid her face within Juanna's breast; 
 
 Her neck alone was seen, but that was found 
 The colour of a budding rose's crest. 
 
 I can't tell why she blushed, nor can expound 
 The mystery of this rupture of their rest ; 
 
 All that I know is, that the facts I state 
 
 Are true as truth has ever been of late. 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 And so good night to them, or, if you will, 
 
 Good morrow for the cock had crown, and light 
 
 Began to clothe each Asiatic hill, 
 
 And the Mosque crescent struggled into sight 
 
 Of the long caravan, which in the chill 
 Of dewy dawn wound slowly round each height 
 
 That stretches to the stony belt, which girds 
 
 Asia, where Kaff looks down upon the Kurds.
 
 342 DON JUAN. CANTO vi. 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 With the first ray, or rather grey of morn, 
 Gulleyaz rose from restlessness ; and pale 
 
 As Passion rises, with its bosom worn, 
 
 Arrayed herself with mantle, gem, and veil. . r 
 
 The nightingale that sings with the deep thorn, 
 Which Fable places in her breast of Wail, 
 
 Is lighter far of heart and voice than those 
 
 Whose headlong passions form their proper woes. 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 And that's the moral of this composition, 
 If people would but see its real drift ; 
 
 But (hat they will not do without suspicion, 
 Because all gentle readers have the gift 
 
 Of closing 'gainst the light their orbs of vision ; 
 While gentle writers also love to lift 
 
 Their voices 'gainst each other, which is natural, 
 
 The numbers are too great for them to flatter all. 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 Rose the Sultana from a bed of splendour, 
 Softer than the soft Sybarite's who cried 
 
 Aloud because his feelings were too tender 
 To brook a ruffled rose-leaf by his side, 
 
 So beautiful that art could little mend her, 
 Though pale with conflicts between love and pride: 
 
 So agitated was she with her error, 
 
 She did not even look into the mirror.
 
 CANTO vi. DON JUAN. 343 
 
 XC. 
 
 Also arose about the self-same time, 
 Perhaps a little later, her great lord, 
 
 Master of thirty kingdoms so sublime, 
 And of a wife by whom he was abhorred ; 
 
 A thing of much less import in that clime 
 At least to those of incomes which afford 
 
 The filling up their whole connubial cargo 
 
 Than where two wives are under an embargo. 
 
 XCI. 
 
 He did not think much on the matter, nor 
 
 Indeed on any other : as a man 
 He liked to have a handsome paramour 
 
 At hand, as one may like to have a fan. 
 And therefore of Circassians had good store, 
 
 As an amusement after the Divan ; 
 Though an unusual fit of love, or duty, 
 Had made him lately bask in his bride's beauty. 
 
 XCII. 
 
 And now he rose ; and after due ablutions 
 Exacted by the customs of the East, 
 
 And prayers and other pious evolutions, 
 He drank six cups of coffee at the least, 
 
 And then withdrew to hear about the Russians, 
 Whose victories had recently increased 
 
 In Catherine's reign, whom glory still adores 
 
 As greatest of all sovereigns and w a.
 
 344 DON JUAN. CANTO 
 
 XCHL 
 
 But oh, thou grand legitimate Alexander ! 
 
 Her son's son, let not this last phrase offend 
 Thine ear, if it should reach, and now rhymes wander 
 
 Almost as far as Petersburgh, and lend 
 A dreadful impulse to each loud meander 
 
 Of murmuring Liberty's wide waves, which blend 
 Their roar even with the Baltic's so you be 
 Your father's son, 'tis quite enough for me. 
 
 XCIV. 
 
 To call men love-begotten, or proclaim 
 Their mothers as the antipodes of Timon, 
 
 That hater of mankind, would be a shame, 
 A libel, or whate'er you please to rhyme on; 
 
 But people's ancestors are history's game ; 
 And if one lady's slip could leave a crime on 
 
 All generations, I should like to know 
 
 What pedigree the best would have to show? 
 
 xcv. 
 
 Had Catherine and the Sultan understood 
 Their own true interests which kings rarely know, 
 
 Until 'tis taught by lessons rather rude, 
 There was a way to end their strife, although 
 
 Perhaps precarious, had they but thought good, 
 Without the aid of Prince or Plenipo : 
 
 IShe to dismiss her guards, and he his harem, 
 
 And for other matters, meet and share 'em.
 
 CANTO vi. DON JUAN. 345 
 
 XCVI. 
 
 But as it was, his Highness had to hold 
 His daily council upon ways and means, 
 
 How to encounter with this martial scold, 
 This modern amazon and Queen of Queans ; 
 
 And the perplexity could not be told 
 
 Of all the Pillars of the state, which leans 
 
 Sometimes a little heavy on the backs 
 
 Of those who cannot lay on a new tax. 
 
 XCVII. 
 
 Meantime Gulleyaz, when her king was gone, 
 Retired into her boudoir, a sweet place 
 
 For love or breakfast ; private, pleasing, lone, 
 And rich with all contrivances which grace 
 
 Those gay recesses : many a precious stone 
 Sparkled along its roof, and many a vase 
 
 Of porcelain held in the fettered flowers, 
 
 Those captive soothers of a captive's hours. 
 
 XCVIII. 
 
 Mother of pearl, and porphyry, and marble, 
 Vied with each other on this costly spot ; 
 
 And singing birds without were heard to warble ; 
 And the stained glass which lighted this fair grot 
 
 Varied each ray ;~but all descriptions garble 
 The true effect, and so we had better not 
 
 Be too minute ; an outline is the best, 
 
 A lively reader's fancy does the rest.
 
 346 DON JUAN. 
 
 CANTO VI. 
 
 XCIX. 
 
 And here she summoned Baba, and required 
 
 Don Juan at his hands and information 
 Of what had past since all the slaves retired, 
 
 And whether he had occupied their station ; 
 If matters had been managed as desired, 
 
 And his disguise with due consideration 
 Kept up ; and above all, the where and how 
 He had passed the night, was what she wished to know- 
 
 C. 
 
 Baba, with some embarrassment, replied 
 To this long catechism of questions asked 
 
 More easily than answered,- -that he had tried 
 His best to obey in what he had been tasked; 
 
 But there seemed something that he wished to hide, 
 Which hesitation more betrayed than masqued ; 
 
 He scratched his ear, the infallible resource 
 
 To which embarrassed people have recourse. 
 
 CI. 
 
 Gulleyaz was no model of true patience, 
 Nor much disposed to wait in word or deed ; 
 
 She liked quick answers in all conversations ; 
 And when she saw him stumbling like a steed 
 
 In his replies, she puzzled him for fresh ones; 
 And as his speech grew still more broken-kneed, 
 
 Her cheek began to flush, her eyes to sparkle, 
 
 And her proud brow's blue veins to swell and darkle.
 
 CANTO vi. DON JUAN. 347 
 
 CII. 
 
 When Baba saw these symptoms, which he knew 
 To bode him no great good, he deprecated 
 
 Her anger, and beseech'd she'd hear him through- 
 He could not help the thing which he related : 
 
 Then out it came at length, that to Dudu 
 
 Juan was given in charge, as hath been stated ; 
 
 But not by Baba's fault, he said, and swore on 
 
 The holy camel's hump, besides the Koran. 
 
 era. 
 
 The chief dame of the Oda, upon whom 
 The discipline of the whole harem bore, 
 
 As soon as they re-entered their own room. 
 For Baba's function stopt short at the door, 
 
 Had settled all ; nor could he then presume 
 (The aforesaid Baba) just then to do more, 
 
 Without exciting such suspicion as 
 
 Might make the matter still worse than it was. 
 
 CIV. 
 He hoped, indeed he thought he could be sure 
 
 Juan had not betrayed himself; in fact 
 Twas certain that his conduct had been pure, 
 
 Because a foolish or imprudent act 
 Would not alone have made him insecure, 
 
 But ended in his being found out, and sacked, 
 And thrown into the sea Thus Baba spoke 
 Of all save Dudu's dream, which was no joke.
 
 348 DON JUAN. CANTO vi. 
 
 CV. 
 
 This he discreetly kept in the back ground, 
 And talked away, and might have talked till now, 
 
 For any further answer that he found, 
 So deep an anguish wrung Gulleyaz' brow ; 
 
 Her cheek turned ashes, ears rung, brain whirled round 
 As if she had received a sudden blow, 
 
 And the heart's dew of pain sprang fest and chilly 
 
 O'er her fair front, like Morning's on a lily. 
 
 CVI. 
 
 Although she was not of the fainting sort, 
 Baba thought she would faint, but there he erred j 
 
 It was but a convulsion, which though short 
 Can never be described ; we all have heard, 
 
 And some of us have felt thus " all amort,'' 
 When thiags beyond the common have occurred; 
 
 Gulleyaz proved in that brief agony 
 
 What she could ne'er express then how should I ? 
 
 CVII. 
 
 She stood a moment as a Pythoness 
 
 Stands on her tripod, agonized, and full 
 
 Of Inspiration gathered from Distress, 
 When all the heart-strings like wild horses pull 
 
 The heart asunder ; then, as more or less 
 Their speed abated or their strength grew dull, 
 
 She sunk down on her seat by slow degrees, 
 
 And bowed herthrobbing head o'er trembling knees.
 
 CANTO vi. DON JUAN. 349 
 
 CVIII. 
 
 Her face declined and was unseen ; her hair 
 Fell in long tresses like the weeping willow, 
 
 Sweeping the marble underneath her chair, 
 Or rather sofa (for it was all pillow, 
 
 A low, soft ottoman) and black Despair 
 
 Stirred up and down her bosom like a billow, 
 
 Which rushes to some shore whose shingles check 
 
 Its farther course, but must receive its wreck. 
 
 CIX. 
 
 Her head hung- down, and her long hair in stooping 
 Concealed her features better than a veil ; 
 
 And one hand o'er the ottoman lay drooping, 
 White, waxen, and as alabaster pale : 
 
 Would that I were a painter ! to be grouping 
 All that a poet drags into detail ! 
 
 Oh that my words were colours ! but their tints 
 
 May serve perhaps as outlines or slight hints. 
 
 CX. 
 
 Baba, who knew by experience when to talk 
 And when to hold his tongue, now held it till 
 
 This passion might blow o'er, nor dared to balk 
 Gulleyaz' taciturn or speaking will. 
 
 At length she rose up, and began to walk 
 Slowly along the room, but silent still, 
 
 And her brow cleared, but not her troubled eye ; 
 
 The Wind was down, but still the Sea ran high.
 
 350 DON JUAN. CANTO vi. 
 
 CXI. 
 
 She stopt, and raised her head to speak but paused, 
 And then moved on again with rapid pace ; 
 
 Then slackened it, which is the march most caused 
 By deep Emotion : you may sometimes trace 
 
 A feeling' in each footstep, as disclosed 
 By Sallust in his Catiline, who, chased 
 
 By all the Demons of all Passions, showed 
 
 Their work even by the way in which he trode. 
 
 CXII. 
 
 Gulleyaz stopped and beckoned Baba: " Slave! 
 
 " Bring the two slaves !" she said in a low tone, 
 But one which Baba did not like to brave, 
 
 And yet he shuddered, and seemed rather prone 
 To prove reluctant, and begged leave to crave 
 
 (Though he well knew the meaning) to be shown 
 What slaves her Highness wished to indicate, 
 For fear of any error, like the late. 
 
 CXIII. 
 
 " The Georgian and her paramour," replied 
 The Imperial Bride and added, " Let the boat 
 
 " Be ready by the secret portal's side : 
 
 " You know the rest." The words stuck in her throat, 
 
 Despite her injured love and fiery pride; 
 And of this Baba willingly took note, 
 
 And begged by every hair of Mahomet's beard 
 
 She would revoke the order he had heard.
 
 CANTO vi. DON JUAN. 351 
 
 CXIV. 
 
 " To hear is to obey," he said ; " but still, 
 " Sultana, think upon the consequence : 
 
 " It is not that I shall not all fulfil 
 
 " Ytmr orders, even in their severest sense ; 
 
 " But such precipitation may end ill, 
 " Even at your own imperative expense : 
 
 " I do not mean destruction and exposure 
 
 " In case of any premature disclosure ; 
 
 cxv. 
 
 " But your own feelings. Even should all the rest 
 " Be hidden by the rolling waves, which hide 
 
 " Already many a once love-beaten breast 
 " Deep in the caverns of the deadly tide 
 
 " You love this boyish, new, Seraglio guest, 
 " And if this violent remedy be tried 
 
 " Excuse my freedom, when I here assure you, 
 
 " That killing him is not the way to cure you." 
 
 CXVI. 
 
 " What dost thou know of love or feeling? wretch ! 
 
 " Begone !" she cried, with kindling eyes" And do 
 " My bidding!" Baba vanished, for to stretch 
 
 His own remonstrance further he well knew 
 Might end in acting as his own " Jack Ketch ;" 
 
 And though he wished extremely to get through 
 This awkward business without harm to others, 
 He still preferred his own neck to another's.
 
 352 DON JUAN. CANTO vi. 
 
 CXVIL 
 
 Away he went then upon his commission, 
 
 Growling and grumbling in good Turkish phrase 
 
 Against all women of whate'er condition, 
 Especially Sultanas and their ways ; 
 
 Their obstinacy, pride, and indecision, 
 Their never knowing their own mind two days, 
 
 The trouble that they gave, their Immorality, 
 
 Which made him daily bless his own Neutrality. 
 
 CXVIII. 
 
 And then he called his Brethren to his aid, 
 And sent one on a summons to the pair, 
 
 That they must instantly be well arrayed, 
 And above all be combed even to a hair, 
 
 And brought before the Empress, who had made 
 Enquiries after them with kindest care : 
 
 At which Dudil looked strange, and Juan silly ; 
 
 But go they must at once, and Will I Nill I. 
 
 CXIX. 
 
 And here I leave them at their preparation 
 For the Imperial presence, wherein whether 
 
 Gulleyaz shewed them both commiseration, 
 Or got rid of the parties altogether, 
 
 Like other angry ladies of her nation, 
 Are things the turning of a hair or feather 
 
 May settle ; but far be't from me to anticipate 
 
 In what way feminine Caprice may dissipate.
 
 CANTO vi. DON JUAN. 
 
 CXX. 
 
 I leave them for the present with good wishes, 
 Though doubts of their well doing, to arrange 
 
 Another part of History, for the dishes 
 
 Of this our banquet we must sometimes change, 
 
 And trusting Juan may escape the fishes, 
 Although his situation now seems strange, 
 
 And scarce secure : as such digressions are fair, 
 
 The Muse will take a little touch at warfare. 
 
 END OF VOL. i.
 
 J'homns White, .Prinlci . 
 Johnsons Court.
 
 . OF CALIF, LIBRARY, LOS ANGELES
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACiLn 
 
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