<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=116890" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Canto the Fifth</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I<br>When amatory poets sing their loves<br> In liquid lines mellifluously bland,<br>And pair their rhymes as Venus yokes her doves,<br> They little think what mischief is in hand;<br>The greater their success the worse it proves,<br> As Ovid's verse may give to understand;<br>Even Petrarch's self, if judged with due severity,<br>Is the Platonic pimp of all posterity.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> II<br>I therefore do denounce all amorous writing,<br> Except in such a way as not to attract;<br>Plain -- simple -- short, and by no means inviting,<br> But with a moral to each error tack'd,<br>Form'd rather for instructing than delighting,<br> And with all passions in their turn attack'd;<br>Now, if my Pegasus should not be shod ill,<br>This poem will become a moral model.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> III<br>The European with the Asian shore<br> Sprinkled with palaces; the ocean stream<br>Here and there studded with a seventy-four;<br> Sophia's cupola with golden gleam;<br>The cypress groves; Olympus high and hoar;<br> The twelve isles, and the more than I could dream,<br>Far less describe, present the very view<br>Which charm'd the charming Mary Montagu.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> IV<br>I have a passion for the name of "Mary,"<br> For once it was a magic sound to me;<br>And still it half calls up the realms of fairy,<br> Where I beheld what never was to be;<br>All feelings changed, but this was last to vary,<br> A spell from which even yet I am not quite free:<br>But I grow sad -- and let a tale grow cold,<br>Which must not be pathetically told.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> V<br>The wind swept down the Euxine, and the wave<br> Broke foaming o'er the blue Symplegades;<br>'T is a grand sight from off the Giant's Grave<br> To watch the progress of those rolling seas<br>Between the Bosphorus, as they lash and lave<br> Europe and Asia, you being quite at ease;<br>There's not a sea the passenger e'er pukes in,<br>Turns up more dangerous breakers than the Euxine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> VI<br>'T was a raw day of Autumn's bleak beginning,<br> When nights are equal, but not so the days;<br>The Parcae then cut short the further spinning<br> Of seamen's fates, and the loud tempests raise<br>The waters, and repentance for past sinning<br> In all, who o'er the great deep take their ways:<br>They vow to amend their lives, and yet they don't;<br>Because if drown'd, they can't -- if spared, they won't.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> VII<br>A crowd of shivering slaves of every nation,<br> And age, and sex, were in the market ranged;<br>Each bevy with the merchant in his station:<br> Poor creatures! their good looks were sadly changed.<br>All save the blacks seem'd jaded with vexation,<br> From friends, and home, and freedom far estranged;<br>The negroes more philosophy display'd, --<br>Used to it, no doubt, as eels are to be flay'd.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> VIII<br>Juan was juvenile, and thus was full,<br> As most at his age are, of hope and health;<br>Yet I must own he looked a little dull,<br> And now and then a tear stole down by stealth;<br>Perhaps his recent loss of blood might pull<br> His spirit down; and then the loss of wealth,<br>A mistress, and such comfortable quarters,<br>To be put up for auction amongst Tartars,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> IX<br>Were things to shake a stoic; ne'ertheless,<br> Upon the whole his carriage was serene:<br>His figure, and the splendour of his dress,<br> Of which some gilded remnants still were seen,<br>Drew all eyes on him, giving them to guess<br> He was above the vulgar by his mien;<br>And then, though pale, he was so very handsome;<br>And then -- they calculated on his ransom.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> X<br>Like a backgammon board the place was dotted<br> With whites and blacks, in groups on show for sale,<br>Though rather more irregularly spotted:<br> Some bought the jet, while others chose the pale.<br>It chanced amongst the other people lotted,<br> A man of thirty rather stout and hale,<br>With resolution in his dark grey eye,<br>Next Juan stood, till some might choose to buy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XI<br>He had an English look; that is, was square<br> In make, of a complexion white and ruddy,<br>Good teeth, with curling rather dark brown hair,<br> And, it might be from thought or toil or study,<br>An open brow a little mark'd with care:<br> One arm had on a bandage rather bloody;<br>And there he stood with such sang-froid, that greater<br>Could scarce be shown even by a mere spectator.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XII<br>But seeing at his elbow a mere lad,<br> Of a high spirit evidently, though<br>At present weigh'd down by a doom which had<br> O'erthrown even men, he soon began to show<br>A kind of blunt compassion for the sad<br> Lot of so young a partner in the woe,<br>Which for himself he seem'd to deem no worse<br>Than any other scrape, a thing of course.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XIII<br>"My boy!" said he, "amidst this motley crew<br> Of Georgians, Russians, Nubians, and what not,<br>All ragamuffins differing but in hue,<br> With whom it is our luck to cast our lot,<br>The only gentlemen seem I and you;<br> So let us be acquainted, as we ought:<br>If I could yield you any consolation,<br>'T would give me pleasure. -- Pray, what is your nation?"</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XIV<br>When Juan answer'd -- "Spanish!" he replied,<br> "I thought, in fact, you could not be a Greek;<br>Those servile dogs are not so proudly eyed:<br> Fortune has play'd you here a pretty freak,<br>But that's her way with all men, till they're tried;<br> But never mind, -- she'll turn, perhaps, next week;<br>She has served me also much the same as you,<br>Except that I have found it nothing new."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XV<br>"Pray, sir," said Juan, "if I may presume,<br> What brought you here?" -- "Oh! nothing very rare --<br>Six Tartars and a drag-chain." -- "To this doom<br> But what conducted, if the question's fair,<br>Is that which I would learn." -- "I served for some<br> Months with the Russian army here and there,<br>And taking lately, by Suwarrow's bidding,<br>A town, was ta'en myself instead of Widdin."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XVI<br>"Have you no friends?" -- "I had -- but, by God's blessing,<br> Have not been troubled with them lately. Now<br>I have answer'd all your questions without pressing,<br> And you an equal courtesy should show.'<br>"Alas!" said Juan, "'t were a tale distressing,<br> And long besides." -- "Oh! if 't is really so,<br>You're right on both accounts to hold your tongue;<br>A sad tale saddens doubly, when't is long.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XVII<br>"But droop not: Fortune at your time of life,<br> Although a female moderately fickle,<br>Will hardly leave you (as she's not your wife)<br> For any length of days in such a pickle.<br>To strive, too, with our fate were such a strife<br> As if the corn-sheaf should oppose the sickle:<br>Men are the sport of circumstances, when<br>The circumstances seem the sport of men."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XVIII<br>"'T is not," said Juan, "for my present doom<br> I mourn, but for the past; -- I loved a maid:" --<br>He paused, and his dark eye grew full of gloom;<br> A single tear upon his eyelash staid<br>A moment, and then dropp'd; "but to resume,<br> 'T is not my present lot, as I have said,<br>Which I deplore so much; for I have borne<br>Hardships which have the hardiest overworn,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XIX<br>"On the rough deep. But this last blow --" and here<br> He stopp'd again, and turn'd away his face.<br>"Ay," quoth his friend, "I thought it would appear<br> That there had been a lady in the case;<br>And these are things which ask a tender tear,<br> Such as I, too, would shed if in your place:<br>I cried upon my first wife's dying day,<br>And also when my second ran away:</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XX<br>"My third --" -- "Your third!" quoth Juan, turning round;<br> "You scarcely can be thirty: have you three?"<br>"No -- only two at present above ground:<br> Surely 't is nothing wonderful to see<br>One person thrice in holy wedlock bound!"<br> "Well, then, your third," said Juan; "what did she?<br>She did not run away, too, -- did she, sir?"<br>"No, faith." -- "What then?" -- "I ran away from her."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XXI<br>"You take things coolly, sir," said Juan. "Why,"<br> Replied the other, "what can a man do?<br>There still are many rainbows in your sky,<br> But mine have vanish'd. All, when life is new,<br>Commence with feelings warm, and prospects high;<br> But time strips our illusions of their hue,<br>And one by one in turn, some grand mistake<br>Casts off its bright skin yearly like the snake.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XXII<br>"'T is true, it gets another bright and fresh,<br> Or fresher, brighter; but the year gone through,<br>This skin must go the way, too, of all flesh,<br> Or sometimes only wear a week or two; --<br>Love's the first net which spreads its deadly mesh;<br> Ambition, Avarice, Vengeance, Glory, glue<br>The glittering lime-twigs of our latter days,<br>Where still we flutter on for pence or praise."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XXIII<br>"All this is very fine, and may be true,"<br> Said Juan; "but I really don't see how<br>It betters present times with me or you."<br> "No?" quoth the other; "yet you will allow<br>By setting things in their right point of view,<br> Knowledge, at least, is gain'd; for instance, now,<br>We know what slavery is, and our disasters<br>May teach us better to behave when masters."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XXIV<br>"Would we were masters now, if but to try<br> Their present lessons on our Pagan friends here,"<br>Said Juan, -- swallowing a heart-burning sigh:<br> "Heaven help the scholar whom his fortune sends here!"<br>"Perhaps we shall be one day, by and by,"<br> Rejoin'd the other, when our bad luck mends here;<br>"Meantime (yon old black eunuch seems to eye us)<br>I wish to G-d that somebody would buy us.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XXV<br>"But after all, what is our present state?<br> 'T is bad, and may be better -- all men's lot:<br>Most men are slaves, none more so than the great,<br> To their own whims and passions, and what not;<br>Society itself, which should create<br> Kindness, destroys what little we had got:<br>To feel for none is the true social art<br>Of the world's stoics -- men without a heart."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XXVI<br>Just now a black old neutral personage<br> Of the third sex stept up, and peering over<br>The captives, seem'd to mark their looks and age,<br> And capabilities, as to discover<br>If they were fitted for the purposed cage:<br> No lady e'er is ogled by a lover,<br>Horse by a blackleg, broadcloth by a tailor,<br>Fee by a counsel, felon by a jailor,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XXVII<br>As is a slave by his intended bidder.<br> 'T is pleasant purchasing our fellow-creatures;<br>And all are to be sold, if you consider<br> Their passions, and are dext'rous; some by features<br>Are bought up, others by a warlike leader,<br> Some by a place -- as tend their years or natures;<br>The most by ready cash -- but all have prices,<br>From crowns to kicks, according to their vices.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XXVIII<br>The eunuch, having eyed them o'er with care,<br> Turn'd to the merchant, and begun to bid<br>First but for one, and after for the pair;<br> They haggled, wrangled, swore, too -- so they did!<br>As though they were in a mere Christian fair<br> Cheapening an ox, an ass, a lamb, or kid;<br>So that their bargain sounded like a battle<br>For this superior yoke of human cattle.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XXIX<br>At last they settled into simple grumbling,<br> And pulling out reluctant purses, and<br>Turning each piece of silver o'er, and tumbling<br> Some down, and weighing others in their hand,<br>And by mistake sequins with paras jumbling,<br> Until the sum was accurately scann'd,<br>And then the merchant giving change, and signing<br>Receipts in full, began to think of dining.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XXX<br>I wonder if his appetite was good?<br> Or, if it were, if also his digestion?<br>Methinks at meals some odd thoughts might intrude,<br> And conscience ask a curious sort of question,<br>About the right divine how far we should<br> Sell flesh and blood. When dinner has opprest one,<br>I think it is perhaps the gloomiest hour<br>Which turns up out of the sad twenty-four.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XXXI<br>Voltaire says "No:" he tells you that Candide<br> Found life most tolerable after meals;<br>He's wrong -- unless man were a pig, indeed,<br> Repletion rather adds to what he feels,<br>Unless he's drunk, and then no doubt he's freed<br> From his own brain's oppression while it reels.<br>Of food I think with Philip's son, or rather<br>Ammon's (ill pleased with one world and one father);</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XXXII<br>I think with Alexander, that the act<br> Of eating, with another act or two,<br>Makes us feel our mortality in fact<br> Redoubled; when a roast and a ragout,<br>And fish, and soup, by some side dishes back'd,<br> Can give us either pain or pleasure, who<br>Would pique himself on intellects, whose use<br>Depends so much upon the gastric juice?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XXXIII<br>The other evening ('t was on Friday last) --<br> This is a fact and no poetic fable --<br>Just as my great coat was about me cast,<br> My hat and gloves still lying on the table,<br>I heard a shot -- 't was eight o'clock scarce past --<br> And, running out as fast as I was able,<br>I found the military commandant<br>Stretch'd in the street, and able scarce to pant.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XXXIV<br>Poor fellow! for some reason, surely bad,<br> They had slain him with five slugs; and left him there<br>To perish on the pavement: so I had<br> Him borne into the house and up the stair,<br>And stripp'd and look'd to -- But why should I ad<br> More circumstances? vain was every care;<br>The man was gone: in some Italian quarrel<br>Kill'd by five bullets from an old gun-barrel.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XXXV<br>I gazed upon him, for I knew him well;<br> And though I have seen many corpses, never<br>Saw one, whom such an accident befell,<br> So calm; though pierced through stomach, heart, and liver,<br>He seem'd to sleep, -- for you could scarcely tell<br> (As he bled inwardly, no hideous river<br>Of gore divulged the cause) that he was dead:<br>So as I gazed on him, I thought or said --</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XXXVI<br>"Can this be death? then what is life or death?<br> Speak!" but he spoke not: "Wake!" but still he slept: --<br>"But yesterday and who had mightier breath?<br> A thousand warriors by his word were kept<br>In awe: he said, as the centurion saith,<br> 'Go,' and he goeth; 'come,' and forth he stepp'd.<br>The trump and bugle till he spake were dumb --<br>And now nought left him but the muffled drum."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XXXVII<br>And they who waited once and worshipp'd -- they<br> With their rough faces throng'd about the bed<br>To gaze once more on the commanding clay<br> Which for the last, though not the first, time bled:<br>And such an end! that he who many a day<br> Had faced Napoleon's foes until they fled, --<br>The foremost in the charge or in the sally,<br>Should now be butcher'd in a civic alley.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XXXVIII<br>The scars of his old wounds were near his new,<br> Those honourable scars which brought him fame;<br>And horrid was the contrast to the view --<br> But let me quit the theme; as such things claim<br>Perhaps even more attention than is due<br> From me: I gazed (as oft I have gazed the same)<br>To try if I could wrench aught out of death<br>Which should confirm, or shake, or make a faith;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XXXIX<br>But it was all a mystery. Here we are,<br> And there we go: -- but where? five bits of lead,<br>Or three, or two, or one, send very far!<br> And is this blood, then, form'd but to be shed?<br>Can every element our elements mar?<br> And air -- earth -- water -- fire live -- and we dead?<br>We whose minds comprehend all things? No more;<br>But let us to the story as before.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XL<br>The purchaser of Juan and acquaintance<br> Bore off his bargains to a gilded boat,<br>Embark'd himself and them, and off they went thence<br> As fast as oars could pull and water float;<br>They look'd like persons being led to sentence,<br> Wondering what next, till the caïque was brought<br>Up in a little creek below a wall<br>O'ertopp'd with cypresses, dark-green and tall.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XLI<br>Here their conductor tapping at the wicket<br> Of a small iron door, 't was open'd, and<br>He led them onward, first through a low thicket<br> Flank'd by large groves, which tower'd on either hand:<br>They almost lost their way, and had to pick it --<br> For night was dosing ere they came to land.<br>The eunuch made a sign to those on board,<br>Who row'd off, leaving them without a word.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XLII<br>As they were plodding on their winding way<br> Through orange bowers, and jasmine, and so forth<br>(Of which I might have a good deal to say,<br> There being no such profusion in the North<br>Of oriental plants, "et cetera,"<br> But that of late your scribblers think it worth<br>Their while to rear whole hotbeds in their works<br>Because one poet travell'd 'mongst the Turks) --</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XLIII<br>As they were threading on their way, there came<br> Into Don Juan's head a thought, which he<br>Whisper'd to his companion: -- 't was the same<br> Which might have then occurr'd to you or me.<br>"Methinks," said he, "it would be no great shame<br> If we should strike a stroke to set us free;<br>Let's knock that old black fellow on the head,<br>And march away -- 't were easier done than said."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XLIV<br>"Yes," said the other, "and when done, what then?<br> How get out? how the devil got we in?<br>And when we once were fairly out, and when<br> From Saint Bartholomew we have saved our skin,<br>To-morrow'd see us in some other den,<br> And worse off than we hitherto have been;<br>Besides, I'm hungry, and just now would take,<br>Like Esau, for my birthright a beef-steak.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XLV<br>"We must be near some place of man's abode; --<br> For the old negro's confidence in creeping,<br>With his two captives, by so queer a road,<br> Shows that he thinks his friends have not been sleeping;<br>A single cry would bring them all abroad:<br> 'T is therefore better looking before leaping --<br>And there, you see, this turn has brought us through,<br>By Jove, a noble palace! -- lighted too."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XLVI<br>It was indeed a wide extensive building<br> Which open'd on their view, and o'er the front<br>There seem'd to be besprent a deal of gilding<br> And various hues, as is the Turkish wont, --<br>A gaudy taste; for they are little skill'd in<br> The arts of which these lands were once the font:<br>Each villa on the Bosphorus looks a screen<br>New painted, or a pretty opera-scene.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XLVII<br>And nearer as they came, a genial savour<br> Of certain stews, and roast-meats, and pilaus,<br>Things which in hungry mortals' eyes find favour,<br> Made Juan in his harsh intentions pause,<br>And put himself upon his good behaviour:<br> His friend, too, adding a new saving clause,<br>Said, "In Heaven's name let's get some supper now,<br>And then I'm with you, if you're for a row."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XLVIII<br>Some talk of an appeal unto some passion,<br> Some to men's feelings, others to their reason;<br>The last of these was never much the fashion,<br> For reason thinks all reasoning out of season.<br>Some speakers whine, and others lay the lash on,<br> But more or less continue still to tease on,<br>With arguments according to their "forte;"<br>But no one dreams of ever being short. --</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XLIX<br>But I digress: of all appeals, -- although<br> I grant the power of pathos, and of gold,<br>Of beauty, flattery, threats, a shilling, -- no<br> Method's more sure at moments to take hold<br>Of the best feelings of mankind, which grow<br> More tender, as we every day behold,<br>Than that all-softening, overpowering knell,<br>The tocsin of the soul -- the dinner-bell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> L<br>Turkey contains no bells, and yet men dine;<br> And Juan and his friend, albeit they heard<br>No Christian knoll to table, saw no line<br> Of lackeys usher to the feast prepared,<br>Yet smelt roast-meat, beheld a huge fire shine,<br> And cooks in motion with their clean arms bared,<br>And gazed around them to the left and right<br>With the prophetic eye of appetite.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LI<br>And giving up all notions of resistance,<br> They follow'd close behind their sable guide,<br>Who little thought that his own crack'd existence<br> Was on the point of being set aside:<br>He motion'd them to stop at some small distance,<br> And knocking at the gate, 't was open'd wide,<br>And a magnificent large hall display'd<br>The Asian pomp of Ottoman parade.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LII<br>I won't describe; description is my forte,<br> But every fool describes in these bright days<br>His wondrous journey to some foreign court,<br> And spawns his quarto, and demands your praise --<br>Death to his publisher, to him 't is sport;<br> While Nature, tortured twenty thousand ways,<br>Resigns herself with exemplary patience<br>To guide-books, rhymes, tours, sketches, illustrations.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LIII<br>Along this hall, and up and down, some, squatted<br> Upon their hams, were occupied at chess;<br>Others in monosyllable talk chatted,<br> And some seem'd much in love with their own dress.<br>And divers smoked superb pipes decorated<br> With amber mouths of greater price or less;<br>And several strutted, others slept, and some<br>Prepared for supper with a glass of rum.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LIV<br>As the black eunuch enter'd with his brace<br> Of purchased Infidels, some raised their eyes<br>A moment without slackening from their pace;<br> But those who sate ne'er stirr'd in anywise:<br>One or two stared the captives in the face,<br> Just as one views a horse to guess his price;<br>Some nodded to the negro from their station,<br>But no one troubled him with conversation.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LV<br>He leads them through the hall, and, without stopping,<br> On through a farther range of goodly rooms,<br>Splendid but silent, save in one, where, dropping,<br> A marble fountain echoes through the glooms<br>Of night which robe the chamber, or where popping<br> Some female head most curiously presumes<br>To thrust its black eyes through the door or lattice,<br>As wondering what the devil a noise that is.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LVI<br>Some faint lamps gleaming from the lofty walls<br> Gave light enough to hint their farther way,<br>But not enough to show the imperial halls,<br> In all the flashing of their full array;<br>Perhaps there's nothing -- I'll not say appals,<br> But saddens more by night as well as day,<br>Than an enormous room without a soul<br>To break the lifeless splendour of the whole.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LVII<br>Two or three seem so little, one seems nothing:<br> In deserts, forests, crowds, or by the shore,<br>There solitude, we know, has her full growth in<br> The spots which were her realms for evermore;<br>But in a mighty hall or gallery, both in<br> More modern buildings and those built of yore,<br>A kind of death comes o'er us all alone,<br>Seeing what's meant for many with but one.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LVIII<br>A neat, snug study on a winter's night,<br> A book, friend, single lady, or a glass<br>Of claret, sandwich, and an appetite,<br> Are things which make an English evening pass;<br>Though certes by no means so grand a sight<br> As is a theatre lit up by gas.<br>I pass my evenings in long galleries solely,<br>And that's the reason I'm so melancholy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LIX<br>Alas! man makes that great which makes him little:<br> I grant you in a church 't is very well:<br>What speaks of Heaven should by no means be brittle,<br> But strong and lasting, till no tongue can tell<br>Their names who rear'd it; but huge houses fit ill --<br> And huge tombs worse -- mankind, since Adam fell:<br>Methinks the story of the tower of Babel<br>Might teach them this much better than I'm able.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LX<br>Babel was Nimrod's hunting-box, and then<br> A town of gardens, walls, and wealth amazing,<br>Where Nabuchadonosor, king of men,<br> Reign'd, till one summer's day he took to grazing,<br>And Daniel tamed the lions in their den,<br> The people's awe and admiration raising;<br>'T was famous, too, for Thisbe and for Pyramus,<br>And the calumniated queen Semiramis.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXI<br>That injured Queen by chroniclers so coarse<br> Has been accused (I doubt not by conspiracy)<br>Of an improper friendship for her horse<br> (Love, like religion, sometimes runs to heresy):<br>This monstrous tale had probably its source<br> (For such exaggerations here and there I see)<br>In writing "Courser" by mistake for "Courier:"<br>I wish the case could come before a jury here.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXII<br>But to resume, -- should there be (what may not<br> Be in these days?) some infidels, who don't,<br>Because they can't find out the very spot<br> Of that same Babel, or because they won't<br>(Though Claudius Rich, Esquire, some bricks has got,<br> And written lately two memoirs upon't),<br>Believe the Jews, those unbelievers, who<br>Must be believed, though they believe not you,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXIII<br>Yet let them think that Horace has exprest<br> Shortly and sweetly the masonic folly<br>Of those, forgetting the great place of rest,<br> Who give themselves to architecture wholly;<br>We know where things and men must end at best:<br> A moral (like all morals) melancholy,<br>And "Et sepulchri immemor struis domos"<br>Shows that we build when we should but entomb us.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXIV<br>At last they reach'd a quarter most retired,<br> Where echo woke as if from a long slumber;<br>Though full of all things which could be desired,<br> One wonder'd what to do with such a number<br>Of articles which nobody required;<br> Here wealth had done its utmost to encumber<br>With furniture an exquisite apartment,<br>Which puzzled Nature much to know what Art meant.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXV<br>It seem'd, however, but to open on<br> A range or suite of further chambers, which<br>Might lead to heaven knows where; but in this one<br> The movables were prodigally rich:<br>Sofas 't was half a sin to sit upon,<br> So costly were they; carpets every stitch<br>Of workmanship so rare, they made you wish<br>You could glide o'er them like a golden fish.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXVI<br>The black, however, without hardly deigning<br> A glance at that which wrapt the slaves in wonder,<br>Trampled what they scarce trod for fear of staining,<br> As if the milky way their feet was under<br>With all its stars; and with a stretch attaining<br> A certain press or cupboard niched in yonder --<br>In that remote recess which you may see --<br>Or if you don't the fault is not in me, --</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXVII<br>I wish to be perspicuous; and the black,<br> I say, unlocking the recess, pull'd forth<br>A quantity of clothes fit for the back<br> Of any Mussulman, whate'er his worth;<br>And of variety there was no lack --<br> And yet, though I have said there was no dearth,<br>He chose himself to point out what he thought<br>Most proper for the Christians he had bought.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXVIII<br>The suit he thought most suitable to each<br> Was, for the elder and the stouter, first<br>A Candiote cloak, which to the knee might reach,<br> And trousers not so tight that they would burst,<br>But such as fit an Asiatic breech;<br> A shawl, whose folds in Cashmire had been nurst,<br>Slippers of saffron, dagger rich and handy;<br>In short, all things which form a Turkish Dandy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXIX<br>While he was dressing, Baba, their black friend,<br> Hinted the vast advantages which they<br>Might probably attain both in the end,<br> If they would but pursue the proper way<br>Which fortune plainly seem'd to recommend;<br> And then he added, that he needs must say,<br>"'T would greatly tend to better their condition,<br>If they would condescend to circumcision.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXX<br>"For his own part, he really should rejoice<br> To see them true believers, but no less<br>Would leave his proposition to their choice."<br> The other, thanking him for this excess<br>Of goodness, in thus leaving them a voice<br> In such a trifle, scarcely could express<br>"Sufficiently" (he said) "his approbation<br>Of all the customs of this polish'd nation.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXXI<br>"For his own share -- he saw but small objection<br> To so respectable an ancient rite;<br>And, after swallowing down a slight refection,<br> For which he own'd a present appetite,<br>He doubted not a few hours of reflection<br> Would reconcile him to the business quite."<br>"Will it?" said Juan, sharply: "Strike me dead,<br>But they as soon shall circumcise my head!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXXII<br>"Cut off a thousand heads, before--" -- "Now, pray,"<br> Replied the other, "do not interrupt:<br>You put me out in what I had to say.<br> Sir! -- as I said, as soon as I have supt,<br>I shall perpend if your proposal may<br> Be such as I can properly accept;<br>Provided always your great goodness still<br>Remits the matter to our own free-will."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXXIII<br>Baba eyed Juan, and said, "Be so good<br> As dress yourself-" and pointed out a suit<br>In which a Princess with great pleasure would<br> Array her limbs; but Juan standing mute,<br>As not being in a masquerading mood,<br> Gave it a slight kick with his Christian foot;<br>And when the old negro told him to "Get ready,"<br>Replied, "Old gentleman, I'm not a lady."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXXIV<br>"What you may be, I neither know nor care,"<br> Said Baba; "but pray do as I desire:<br>I have no more time nor many words to spare."<br> "At least," said Juan, "sure I may enquire<br>The cause of this odd travesty?" -- "Forbear,"<br> Said Baba, "to be curious; 't will transpire,<br>No doubt, in proper place, and time, and season:<br>I have no authority to tell the reason."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXXV<br>"Then if I do," said Juan, "I'll be --" -- "Hold!"<br> Rejoin'd the negro, "pray be not provoking;<br>This spirit's well, but it may wax too bold,<br> And you will find us not too fond of joking."<br>"What, sir!" said Juan, "shall it e'er be told<br> That I unsex'd my dress?" But Baba, stroking<br>The things down, said, "Incense me, and I call<br>Those who will leave you of no sex at all.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXXVI<br>"I offer you a handsome suit of clothes:<br> A woman's, true; but then there is a cause<br>Why you should wear them." -- "What, though my soul loathes<br> The effeminate garb?" -- thus, after a short pause,<br>Sigh'd Juan, muttering also some slight oaths,<br> "What the devil shall I do with all this gauze?"<br>Thus he profanely term'd the finest lace<br>Which e'er set off a marriage-morning face.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXXVII<br>And then he swore; and, sighing, on he slipp'd<br> A pair of trousers of flesh-colour'd silk;<br>Next with a virgin zone he was equipp'd,<br> Which girt a slight chemise as white as milk;<br>But tugging on his petticoat, he tripp'd,<br> Which -- as we say -- or, as the Scotch say, whilk<br>(The rhyme obliges me to this; sometimes<br>Monarchs are less imperative than rhymes) --</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXXVIII<br>Whilk, which (or what you please), was owing to<br> His garment's novelty, and his being awkward:<br>And yet at last he managed to get through<br> His toilet, though no doubt a little backward:<br>The negro Baba help'd a little too,<br> When some untoward part of raiment stuck hard;<br>And, wrestling both his arms into a gown,<br>He paused, and took a survey up and down.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXXIX<br>One difficulty still remain'd -- his hair<br> Was hardly long enough; but Baba found<br>So many false long tresses all to spare,<br> That soon his head was most completely crown'd,<br>After the manner then in fashion there;<br> And this addition with such gems was bound<br>As suited the ensemble of his toilet,<br>While Baba made him comb his head and oil it.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXXX<br>And now being femininely all array'd,<br> With some small aid from scissors, paint, and tweezers,<br>He look'd in almost all respects a maid,<br> And Baba smilingly exclaim'd, "You see, sirs,<br>A perfect transformation here display'd;<br> And now, then, you must come along with me, sirs,<br>That is -- the Lady:" clapping his hands twice,<br>Four blacks were at his elbow in a trice.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXXXI<br>"You, sir," said Baba, nodding to the one,<br> 'Will please to accompany those gentlemen<br>To supper; but you, worthy Christian nun,<br> Will follow me: no trifling, sir; for when<br>I say a thing, it must at once be done.<br> What fear you? think you this a lion's den?<br>Why, 't is a palace; where the truly wise<br>Anticipate the Prophet's paradise.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXXXII<br>"You fool! I tell you no one means you harm."<br> "So much the better," Juan said, "for them;<br>Else they shall feel the weight of this my arm,<br> Which is not quite so light as you may deem.<br>I yield thus far; but soon will break the charm<br> If any take me for that which I seem:<br>So that I trust for everybody's sake,<br>That this disguise may lead to no mistake."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXXXIII<br>"Blockhead! come on, and see," quoth Baba; while<br> Don Juan, turning to his comrade, who<br>Though somewhat grieved, could scarce forbear a smile<br> Upon the metamorphosis in view, --<br>"Farewell!" they mutually exclaim'd: "this soil<br> Seems fertile in adventures strange and new;<br>One's turn'd half Mussulman, and one a maid,<br>By this old black enchanter's unsought aid."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXXXIV<br>"Farewell!" said Juan: 'should we meet no more,<br> I wish you a good appetite." -- "Farewell!"<br>Replied the other; "though it grieves me sore;<br> When we next meet we'll have a tale to tell:<br>We needs must follow when Fate puts from shore.<br> Keep your good name; though Eve herself once fell."<br>"Nay," quoth the maid, "the Sultan's self shan't carry me,<br>Unless his highness promises to marry me."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXXXV<br>And thus they parted, each by separate doors;<br> Baba led Juan onward room by room<br>Through glittering galleries and o'er marble floors,<br> Till a gigantic portal through the gloom,<br>Haughty and huge, along the distance lowers;<br> And wafted far arose a rich perfume:<br>It seem'd as though they came upon a shrine,<br>For all was vast, still, fragrant, and divine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXXXVI<br>The giant door was broad, and bright, and high,<br> Of gilded bronze, and carved in curious guise;<br>Warriors thereon were battling furiously;<br> Here stalks the victor, there the vanquish'd lies;<br>There captives led in triumph droop the eye,<br> And in perspective many a squadron flies:<br>It seems the work of times before the line<br>Of Rome transplanted fell with Constantine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXXXVII<br>This massy portal stood at the wide close<br> Of a huge hall, and on its either side<br>Two little dwarfs, the least you could suppose,<br> Were sate, like ugly imps, as if allied<br>In mockery to the enormous gate which rose<br> O'er them in almost pyramidic pride:<br>The gate so splendid was in all its features,<br>You never thought about those little creatures,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXXXVIII<br>Until you nearly trod on them, and then<br> You started back in horror to survey<br>The wondrous hideousness of those small men,<br> Whose colour was not black, nor white, nor grey,<br>But an extraneous mixture, which no pen<br> Can trace, although perhaps the pencil may;<br>They were mis-shapen pigmies, deaf and dumb --<br>Monsters, who cost a no less monstrous sum.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXXXIX<br>Their duty was -- for they were strong, and though<br> They look'd so little, did strong things at times --<br>To ope this door, which they could really do,<br> The hinges being as smooth as Rogers' rhymes;<br>And now and then, with tough strings of the bow,<br> As is the custom of those Eastern climes,<br>To give some rebel Pacha a cravat;<br>For mutes are generally used for that.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XC<br>They spoke by signs -- that is, not spoke at all;<br> And looking like two incubi, they glared<br>As Baba with his fingers made them fall<br> To heaving back the portal folds: it scared<br>Juan a moment, as this pair so small<br> With shrinking serpent optics on him stared;<br>It was as if their little looks could poison<br>Or fascinate whome'er they fix'd their eyes on.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XCI<br>Before they enter'd, Baba paused to hint<br> To Juan some slight lessons as his guide:<br>"If you could just contrive," he said, "to stint<br> That somewhat manly majesty of stride,<br>'T would be as well, and (though there's not much in 't)<br> To swing a little less from side to side,<br>Which has at times an aspect of the oddest; --<br>And also could you look a little modest,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XCII<br>"'T would be convenient; for these mutes have eyes<br> Like needles, which may pierce those petticoats;<br>And if they should discover your disguise,<br> You know how near us the deep Bosphorus floats;<br>And you and I may chance, ere morning rise,<br> To find our way to Marmora without boats,<br>Stitch'd up in sacks -- a mode of navigation<br>A good deal practised here upon occasion."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XCIII<br>With this encouragement, he led the way<br> Into a room still nobler than the last;<br>A rich confusion form'd a disarray<br> In such sort, that the eye along it cast<br>Could hardly carry anything away,<br> Object on object flash'd so bright and fast;<br>A dazzling mass of gems, and gold, and glitter,<br>Magnificently mingled in a litter.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XCIV<br>Wealth had done wonders -- taste not much; such things<br> Occur in Orient palaces, and even<br>In the more chasten'd domes of Western kings<br> (Of which I have also seen some six or seven),<br>Where I can't say or gold or diamond flings<br> Great lustre, there is much to be forgiven;<br>Groups of bad statues, tables, chairs, and pictures,<br>On which I cannot pause to make my strictures.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XCV<br>In this imperial hall, at distance lay<br> Under a canopy, and there reclined<br>Quite in a confidential queenly way,<br> A lady; Baba stopp'd, and kneeling sign'd<br>To Juan, who though not much used to pray,<br> Knelt down by instinct, wondering in his mind,<br>What all this meant: while Baba bow'd and bended<br>His head, until the ceremony ended.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XCVI<br>The lady rising up with such an air<br> As Venus rose with from the wave, on them<br>Bent like an antelope a Paphian pair<br> Of eyes, which put out each surrounding gem;<br>And raising up an arm as moonlight fair,<br> She sign'd to Baba, who first kiss'd the hem<br>Of her deep purple robe, and speaking low,<br>Pointed to Juan who remain'd below.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XCVII<br>Her presence was as lofty as her state;<br> Her beauty of that overpowering kind,<br>Whose force description only would abate:<br> I'd rather leave it much to your own mind,<br>Than lessen it by what I could relate<br> Of forms and features; it would strike you blind<br>Could I do justice to the full detail;<br>So, luckily for both, my phrases fail.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XCVIII<br>Thus much however I may add, -- her years<br> Were ripe, they might make six-and-twenty springs;<br>But there are forms which Time to touch forbears,<br> And turns aside his scythe to vulgar things,<br>Such as was Mary's Queen of Scots; true -- tears<br> And love destroy; and sapping sorrow wrings<br>Charms from the charmer, yet some never grow<br>Ugly; for instance -- Ninon de l'Enclos.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XCIX<br>She spake some words to her attendants, who<br> Composed a choir of girls, ten or a dozen,<br>And were all clad alike; like Juan, too,<br> Who wore their uniform, by Baba chosen;<br>They form'd a very nymph-like looking crew,<br> Which might have call'd Diana's chorus "cousin,"<br>As far as outward show may correspond;<br>I won't be bail for anything beyond.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> C<br>They bow'd obeisance and withdrew, retiring,<br> But not by the same door through which came in<br>Baba and Juan, which last stood admiring,<br> At some small distance, all he saw within<br>This strange saloon, much fitted for inspiring<br> Marvel and praise; for both or none things win;<br>And I must say, I ne'er could see the very<br>Great happiness of the "Nil Admirari."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CI<br>"Not to admire is all the art I know<br> (Plain truth, dear Murray, needs few flowers of speech)<br>To make men happy, or to keep them so"<br> (So take it in the very words of Creech) --<br>Thus Horace wrote we all know long ago;<br> And thus Pope quotes the precept to re-teach<br>From his translation; but had none admired,<br>Would Pope have sung, or Horace been inspired?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CII<br>Baba, when all the damsels were withdrawn,<br> Motion'd to Juan to approach, and then<br>A second time desired him to kneel down,<br> And kiss the lady's foot; which maxim when<br>He heard repeated, Juan with a frown<br> Drew himself up to his full height again,<br>And said, "It grieved him, but he could not stoop<br>To any shoe, unless it shod the Pope."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CIII<br>Baba, indignant at this ill-timed pride,<br> Made fierce remonstrances, and then a threat<br>He mutter'd (but the last was given aside)<br> About a bow-string -- quite in vain; not yet<br>Would Juan bend, though 't were to Mahomet's bride:<br> There's nothing in the world like etiquette<br>In kingly chambers or imperial halls,<br>As also at the race and county balls.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CIV<br>He stood like Atlas, with a world of words<br> About his ears, and nathless would not bend:<br>The blood of all his line's Castilian lords<br> Boil'd in his veins, and rather than descend<br>To stain his pedigree a thousand swords<br> A thousand times of him had made an end;<br>At length perceiving the "foot" could not stand,<br>Baba proposed that he should kiss the hand.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CV<br>Here was an honourable compromise,<br> A half-way house of diplomatic rest,<br>Where they might meet in much more peaceful guise;<br> And Juan now his willingness exprest<br>To use all fit and proper courtesies,<br> Adding, that this was commonest and best,<br>For through the South the custom still commands<br>The gentleman to kiss the lady's hands.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CVI<br>And he advanced, though with but a bad grace,<br> Though on more thorough-bred or fairer fingers<br>No lips e'er left their transitory trace;<br> On such as these the lip too fondly lingers,<br>And for one kiss would fain imprint a brace,<br> As you will see, if she you love shall bring hers<br>In contact; and sometimes even a fair stranger's<br>An almost twelvemonth's constancy endangers.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CVII<br>The lady eyed him o'er and o'er, and bade<br> Baba retire, which he obey'd in style,<br>As if well used to the retreating trade;<br> And taking hints in good part all the while,<br>He whisper'd Juan not to be afraid,<br> And looking on him with a sort of smile,<br>Took leave, with such a face of satisfaction<br>As good men wear who have done a virtuous action.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CVIII<br>When he was gone, there was a sudden change:<br> I know not what might be the lady's thought,<br>But o'er her bright brow flash'd a tumult strange,<br> And into her dear cheek the blood was brought,<br>Blood-red as sunset summer clouds which range<br> The verge of Heaven; and in her large eyes wrought,<br>A mixture of sensations might be scann'd,<br>Of half voluptuousness and half command.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CIX<br>Her form had all the softness of her sex,<br> Her features all the sweetness of the devil,<br>When he put on the cherub to perplex<br> Eve, and paved (God knows how) the road to evil;<br>The sun himself was scarce more free from specks<br> Than she from aught at which the eye could cavil;<br>Yet, somehow, there was something somewhere wanting,<br>As if she rather order'd than was granting.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CX<br>Something imperial, or imperious, threw<br> A chain o'er all she did; that is, a chain<br>Was thrown as 't were about the neck of you, --<br> And rapture's self will seem almost a pain<br>With aught which looks like despotism in view:<br> Our souls at least are free, and 't is in vain<br>We would against them make the flesh obey --<br>The spirit in the end will have its way.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXI<br>Her very smile was haughty, though so sweet;<br> Her very nod was not an inclination;<br>There was a self-will even in her small feet,<br> As though they were quite conscious of her station --<br>They trod as upon necks; and to complete<br> Her state (it is the custom of her nation),<br>A poniard deck'd her girdle, as the sign<br>She was a sultan's bride (thank Heaven, not mine!).</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXII<br>"To hear and to obey" had been from birth<br> The law of all around her; to fulfill<br>All phantasies which yielded joy or mirth,<br> Had been her slaves' chief pleasure, as her will;<br>Her blood was high, her beauty scarce of earth:<br> Judge, then, if her caprices e'er stood still;<br>Had she but been a Christian, I've a notion<br>We should have found out the "perpetual motion."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXIII<br>Whate'er she saw and coveted was brought;<br> Whate'er she did not see, if she supposed<br>It might be seen, with diligence was sought,<br> And when 't was found straightway the bargain closed;<br>There was no end unto the things she bought,<br> Nor to the trouble which her fancies caused;<br>Yet even her tyranny had such a grace,<br>The women pardon'd all except her face.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXIV<br>Juan, the latest of her whims, had caught<br> Her eye in passing on his way to sale;<br>She order'd him directly to be bought,<br> And Baba, who had ne'er been known to fail<br>In any kind of mischief to be wrought,<br> At all such auctions knew how to prevail:<br>She had no prudence, but he had; and this<br>Explains the garb which Juan took amiss.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXV<br>His youth and features favour'd the disguise,<br> And, should you ask how she, a sultan's bride,<br>Could risk or compass such strange phantasies,<br> This I must leave sultanas to decide:<br>Emperors are only husbands in wives' eyes,<br> And kings and consorts oft are mystified,<br>As we may ascertain with due precision,<br>Some by experience, others by tradition.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXVI<br>But to the main point, where we have been tending: --<br> She now conceived all difficulties past,<br>And deem'd herself extremely condescending<br> When, being made her property at last,<br>Without more preface, in her blue eyes blending<br> Passion and power, a glance on him she cast,<br>And merely saying, "Christian, canst thou love?"<br>Conceived that phrase was quite enough to move.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXVII<br>And so it was, in proper time and place;<br> But Juan, who had still his mind o'erflowing<br>With Haidée's isle and soft Ionian face,<br> Felt the warm blood, which in his face was glowing,<br>Rush back upon his heart, which fill'd apace,<br> And left his cheeks as pale as snowdrops blowing;<br>These words went through his soul like Arab-spears,<br>So that he spoke not, but burst into tears.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXVIII<br>She was a good deal shock'd; not shock'd at tears,<br> For women shed and use them at their liking;<br>But there is something when man's eye appears<br> Wet, still more disagreeable and striking;<br>A woman's tear-drop melts, a man's half sears,<br> Like molten lead, as if you thrust a pike in<br>His heart to force it out, for (to be shorter)<br>To them 't is a relief, to us a torture.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXIX<br>And she would have consoled, but knew not how:<br> Having no equals, nothing which had e'er<br>Infected her with sympathy till now,<br> And never having dreamt what 't was to bear<br>Aught of a serious, sorrowing kind, although<br> There might arise some pouting petty care<br>To cross her brow, she wonder'd how so near<br>Her eyes another's eye could shed a tear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXX<br>But nature teaches more than power can spoil,<br> And, when a strong although a strange sensation<br>Moves -- female hearts are such a genial soil<br> For kinder feelings, whatsoe'er their nation,<br>They naturally pour the "wine and oil,"<br> Samaritans in every situation;<br>And thus Gulbeyaz, though she knew not why,<br>Felt an odd glistening moisture in her eye.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXXI<br>But tears must stop like all things else; and soon<br> Juan, who for an instant had been moved<br>To such a sorrow by the intrusive tone<br> Of one who dared to ask if "he had loved,"<br>Call'd back the stoic to his eyes, which shone<br> Bright with the very weakness he reproved;<br>And although sensitive to beauty, he<br>Felt most indignant still at not being free.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXXII<br>Gulbeyaz, for the first time in her days,<br> Was much embarrass'd, never having met<br>In all her life with aught save prayers and praise;<br> And as she also risk'd her life to get<br>Him whom she meant to tutor in love's ways<br> Into a comfortable tete-a-tete,<br>To lose the hour would make her quite a martyr,<br>And they had wasted now almost a quarter.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXXIII<br>I also would suggest the fitting time<br> To gentlemen in any such like case,<br>That is to say in a meridian clime --<br> With us there is more law given to the chase,<br>But here a small delay forms a great crime:<br> So recollect that the extremest grace<br>Is just two minutes for your declaration --<br>A moment more would hurt your reputation.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXXIV<br>Juan's was good; and might have been still better,<br> But he had got Haidée into his head:<br>However strange, he could not yet forget her,<br> Which made him seem exceedingly ill-bred.<br>Gulbeyaz, who look'd on him as her debtor<br> For having had him to her palace led,<br>Began to blush up to the eyes, and then<br>Grow deadly pale, and then blush back again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXXV<br>At length, in an imperial way, she laid<br> Her hand on his, and bending on him eyes<br>Which needed not an empire to persuade,<br> Look'd into his for love, where none replies:<br>Her brow grew black, but she would not upbraid,<br> That being the last thing a proud woman tries;<br>She rose, and pausing one chaste moment, threw<br>Herself upon his breast, and there she grew.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXXVI<br>This was an awkward test, as Juan found,<br> But he was steel'd by sorrow, wrath, and pride:<br>With gentle force her white arms he unwound,<br> And seated her all drooping by his side,<br>Then rising haughtily he glanced around,<br> And looking coldly in her face, he cried,<br>"The prison'd eagle will not pair, nor I<br>Serve a Sultana's sensual phantasy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXXVII<br>"Thou ask'st if I can love? be this the proof<br> How much I have loved -- that I love not thee!<br>In this vile garb, the distaff, web, and woof,<br> Were fitter for me: Love is for the free!<br>I am not dazzled by this splendid roof,<br> Whate'er thy power, and great it seems to be;<br>Heads bow, knees bend, eyes watch around a throne,<br>And hands obey -- our hearts are still our own."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXXVIII<br>This was a truth to us extremely trite;<br> Not so to her, who ne'er had heard such things:<br>She deem'd her least command must yield delight,<br> Earth being only made for queens and kings.<br>If hearts lay on the left side or the right<br> She hardly knew, to such perfection brings<br>Legitimacy its born votaries, when<br>Aware of their due royal rights o'er men.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXXIX<br>Besides, as has been said, she was so fair<br> As even in a much humbler lot had made<br>A kingdom or confusion anywhere,<br> And also, as may be presumed, she laid<br>Some stress on charms, which seldom are, if e'er,<br> By their possessors thrown into the shade:<br>She thought hers gave a double "right divine;"<br>And half of that opinion's also mine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXXX<br>Remember, or (if you can not) imagine,<br> Ye, who have kept your chastity when young,<br>While some more desperate dowager has been waging<br> Love with you, and been in the dog-days stung<br>By your refusal, recollect her raging!<br> Or recollect all that was said or sung<br>On such a subject; then suppose the face<br>Of a young downright beauty in this case.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXXXI<br>Suppose, -- but you already have supposed,<br> The spouse of Potiphar, the Lady Booby,<br>Phaedra, and all which story has disclosed<br> Of good examples; pity that so few by<br>Poets and private tutors are exposed,<br> To educate -- ye youth of Europe -- you by!<br>But when you have supposed the few we know,<br>You can't suppose Gulbeyaz' angry brow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXXXII<br>A tigress robb'd of young, a lioness,<br> Or any interesting beast of prey,<br>Are similes at hand for the distress<br> Of ladies who can not have their own way;<br>But though my turn will not be served with less,<br> These don't express one half what I should say:<br>For what is stealing young ones, few or many,<br>To cutting short their hopes of having any?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXXXIII<br>The love of offspring's nature's general law,<br> From tigresses and cubs to ducks and ducklings;<br>There's nothing whets the beak, or arms the claw<br> Like an invasion of their babes and sucklings;<br>And all who have seen a human nursery, saw<br> How mothers love their children's squalls and chucklings;<br>This strong extreme effect (to tire no longer<br>Your patience) shows the cause must still be stronger.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXXXIV<br>If I said fire flash'd from Gulbeyaz' eyes,<br> 'T were nothing -- for her eyes flash'd always fire;<br>Or said her cheeks assumed the deepest dyes,<br> I should but bring disgrace upon the dyer,<br>So supernatural was her passion's rise;<br> For ne'er till now she knew a check'd desire:<br>Even ye who know what a check'd woman is<br>(Enough, God knows!) would much fall short of this.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXXXV<br>Her rage was but a minute's, and 't was well --<br> A moment's more had slain her; but the while<br>It lasted 't was like a short glimpse of hell:<br> Nought's more sublime than energetic bile,<br>Though horrible to see yet grand to tell,<br> Like ocean warring 'gainst a rocky isle;<br>And the deep passions flashing through her form<br>Made her a beautiful embodied storm.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXXXVI<br>A vulgar tempest 't were to a typhoon<br> To match a common fury with her rage,<br>And yet she did not want to reach the moon,<br> Like moderate Hotspur on the immortal page;<br>Her anger pitch'd into a lower tune,<br> Perhaps the fault of her soft sex and age --<br>Her wish was but to "kill, kill, kill," like Lear's,<br>And then her thirst of blood was quench'd in tears.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXXXVII<br>A storm it raged, and like the storm it pass'd,<br> Pass'd without words -- in fact she could not speak;<br>And then her sex's shame broke in at last,<br> A sentiment till then in her but weak,<br>But now it flow'd in natural and fast,<br> As water through an unexpected leak;<br>For she felt humbled -- and humiliation<br>Is sometimes good for people in her station</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXXXVIII<br>It teaches them that they are flesh and blood,<br> It also gently hints to them that others,<br>Although of clay, are yet not quite of mud;<br> That urns and pipkins are but fragile brothers,<br>And works of the same pottery, bad or good,<br> Though not all born of the same sires and mothers:<br>It teaches -- Heaven knows only what it teaches,<br>But sometimes it may mend, and often reaches.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXXXIX<br>Her first thought was to cut off Juan's head;<br> Her second, to cut only his -- acquaintance;<br>Her third, to ask him where he had been bred;<br> Her fourth, to rally him into repentance;<br>Her fifth, to call her maids and go to bed;<br> Her sixth, to stab herself; her seventh, to sentence<br>The lash to Baba: -- but her grand resource<br>Was to sit down again, and cry of course.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXL<br>She thought to stab herself, but then she had<br> The dagger close at hand, which made it awkward;<br>For Eastern stays are little made to pad,<br> So that a poniard pierces if 't is stuck hard:<br>She thought of killing Juan -- but, poor lad!<br> Though he deserved it well for being so backward,<br>The cutting off his head was not the art<br>Most likely to attain her aim -- his heart.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXLI<br>Juan was moved; he had made up his mind<br> To be impaled, or quarter'd as a dish<br>For dogs, or to be slain with pangs refined,<br> Or thrown to lions, or made baits for fish,<br>And thus heroically stood resign'd,<br> Rather than sin -- except to his own wish:<br>But all his great preparatives for dying<br>Dissolved like snow before a woman crying.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXLII<br>As through his palms Bob Acres' valour oozed,<br> So Juan's virtue ebb'd, I know not how;<br>And first he wonder'd why he had refused;<br> And then, if matters could be made up now;<br>And next his savage virtue he accused,<br> Just as a friar may accuse his vow,<br>Or as a dame repents her of her oath,<br>Which mostly ends in some small breach of both.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXLIII<br>So he began to stammer some excuses;<br> But words are not enough in such a matter,<br>Although you borrow'd all that e'er the muses<br> Have sung, or even a Dandy's dandiest chatter,<br>Or all the figures Castlereagh abuses;<br> Just as a languid smile began to flatter<br>His peace was making, but before he ventured<br>Further, old Baba rather briskly enter'd.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXLIV<br>"Bride of the Sun! and Sister of the Moon!"<br> ('T was thus he spake) "and Empress of the Earth!<br>Whose frown would put the spheres all out of tune,<br> Whose smile makes all the planets dance with mirth,<br>Your slave brings tidings -- he hopes not too soon --<br> Which your sublime attention may be worth:<br>The Sun himself has sent me like a ray,<br>To hint that he is coming up this way."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXLV<br>"Is it," exclaim'd Gulbeyaz, "as you say?<br> I wish to heaven he would not shine till morning!<br>But bid my women form the milky way.<br> Hence, my old comet! give the stars due warning --<br>And, Christian! mingle with them as you may,<br> And as you'd have me pardon your past scorning --"<br>Here they were interrupted by a humming<br>Sound, and then by a cry, "The Sultan's coming!"</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXLVI<br>First came her damsels, a decorous file,<br> And then his Highness' eunuchs, black and white;<br>The train might reach a quarter of a mile:<br> His majesty was always so polite<br>As to announce his visits a long while<br> Before he came, especially at night;<br>For being the last wife of the Emperour,<br>She was of course the favorite of the four.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXLVII<br>His Highness was a man of solemn port,<br> Shawl'd to the nose, and bearded to the eyes,<br>Snatch'd from a prison to preside at court,<br> His lately bowstrung brother caused his rise;<br>He was as good a sovereign of the sort<br> As any mention'd in the histories<br>Of Cantemir, or Knolles, where few shine<br>Save Solyman, the glory of their line.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXLVIII<br>He went to mosque in state, and said his prayers<br> With more than "Oriental scrupulosity;"<br>He left to his vizier all state affairs,<br> And show'd but little royal curiosity:<br>I know not if he had domestic cares --<br> No process proved connubial animosity;<br>Four wives and twice five hundred maids, unseen,<br>Were ruled as calmly as a Christian queen.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXLIX<br>If now and then there happen'd a slight slip,<br> Little was heard of criminal or crime;<br>The story scarcely pass'd a single lip --<br> The sack and sea had settled all in time,<br>From which the secret nobody could rip:<br> The Public knew no more than does this rhyme;<br>No scandals made the daily press a curse --<br>Morals were better, and the fish no worse.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CL<br>He saw with his own eyes the moon was round,<br> Was also certain that the earth was square,<br>Because he had journey'd fifty miles, and found<br> No sign that it was circular anywhere;<br>His empire also was without a bound:<br> 'T is true, a little troubled here and there,<br>By rebel pachas, and encroaching giaours,<br>But then they never came to "the Seven Towers;"</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CLI<br>Except in shape of envoys, who were sent<br> To lodge there when a war broke out, according<br>To the true law of nations, which ne'er meant<br> Those scoundrels, who have never had a sword in<br>Their dirty diplomatic hands, to vent<br> Their spleen in making strife, and safely wording<br>Their lies, yclep'd despatches, without risk or<br>The singeing of a single inky whisker.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CLII<br>He had fifty daughters and four dozen sons,<br> Of whom all such as came of age were stow'd,<br>The former in a palace, where like nuns<br> They lived till some Bashaw was sent abroad,<br>When she, whose turn it was, was wed at once,<br> Sometimes at six years old -- though it seems odd,<br>'T is true; the reason is, that the Bashaw<br>Must make a present to his sire in law.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CLIII<br>His sons were kept in prison, till they grew<br> Of years to fill a bowstring or the throne,<br>One or the other, but which of the two<br> Could yet be known unto the fates alone;<br>Meantime the education they went through<br> Was princely, as the proofs have always shown:<br>So that the heir apparent still was found<br>No less deserving to be hang'd than crown'd.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CLIV<br>His majesty saluted his fourth spouse<br> With all the ceremonies of his rank,<br>Who clear'd her sparkling eyes and smooth'd her brows,<br> As suits a matron who has play'd a prank;<br>These must seem doubly mindful of their vows,<br> To save the credit of their breaking bank:<br>To no men are such cordial greetings given<br>As those whose wives have made them fit for heaven.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CLV<br>His Highness cast around his great black eyes,<br> And looking, as he always look'd, perceived<br>Juan amongst the damsels in disguise,<br> At which he seem'd no whit surprised nor grieved,<br>But just remark'd with air sedate and wise,<br> While still a fluttering sigh Gulbeyaz heaved,<br>"I see you've bought another girl; 't is pity<br>That a mere Christian should be half so pretty."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CLVI<br>This compliment, which drew all eyes upon<br> The new-bought virgin, made her blush and shake.<br>Her comrades, also, thought themselves undone:<br> Oh! Mahomet! that his majesty should take<br>Such notice of a giaour, while scarce to one<br> Of them his lips imperial ever spake!<br>There was a general whisper, toss, and wriggle,<br>But etiquette forbade them all to giggle.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CLVII<br>The Turks do well to shut -- at least, sometimes --<br> The women up, because, in sad reality,<br>Their chastity in these unhappy climes<br> Is not a thing of that astringent quality<br>Which in the North prevents precocious crimes,<br> And makes our snow less pure than our morality;<br>The sun, which yearly melts the polar ice,<br>Has quite the contrary effect on vice.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CLVIII<br>Thus in the East they are extremely strict,<br> And Wedlock and a Padlock mean the same;<br>Excepting only when the former's pick'd<br> It ne'er can be replaced in proper frame;<br>Spoilt, as a pipe of claret is when prick'd:<br> But then their own Polygamy's to blame;<br>Why don't they knead two virtuous souls for life<br>Into that moral centaur, man and wife?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CLIX<br>Thus far our chronicle; and now we pause,<br> Though not for want of matter; but 't is time<br>According to the ancient epic laws,<br> To slacken sail, and anchor with our rhyme.<br>Let this fifth canto meet with due applause,<br> The sixth shall have a touch of the sublime;<br>Meanwhile, as Homer sometimes sleeps, perhaps<br>You'll pardon to my muse a few short naps.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Byron">Byron</a> from <i>Don Juan</i><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=116890" data-title="Canto the Fifth de Byron" data-description="I/When amatory poets sing their loves/ In liquid lines mellifluously bland,/And pair 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 give to un..."></div> </div> </div>

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