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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=116891" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Canto the Sixth</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I<br>"There is a tide in the affairs of men<br> Which, -- taken at the flood," -- you know the rest,<br>And most of us have found it now and then;<br> At least we think so, though but few have guess'd<br>The moment, till too late to come again.<br> But no doubt every thing is for the best --<br>Of which the surest sign is in the end:<br>When things are at the worst they sometimes mend.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> II<br>There is a tide in the affairs of women<br> Which, taken at the flood, leads -- God knows where:<br>Those navigators must be able seamen<br> Whose charts lay down its current to a hair;<br>Not all the reveries of Jacob Behmen<br> With its strange whirls and eddies can compare:<br>Men with their heads reflect on this and that --<br>But women with their hearts on heaven knows what!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> III<br>And yet a headlong, headstrong, downright she,<br> Young, beautiful, and daring -- who would risk<br>A throne, the world, the universe, to be<br> Beloved in her own way, and rather whisk<br>The stars from out the sky, than not be free<br> As are the billows when the breeze is brisk --<br>Though such a she's a devil (if that there be one),<br>Yet she would make full many a Manichean.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> IV<br>Thrones, worlds, et cetera, are so oft upset<br> By commonest ambition, that when passion<br>O'erthrows the same, we readily forget,<br> Or at the least forgive, the loving rash one.<br>If Antony be well remember'd yet,<br> 'T is not his conquests keep his name in fashion,<br>But Actium, lost for Cleopatra's eyes,<br>Outbalances all Caesar's victories.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> V<br>He died at fifty for a queen of forty;<br> I wish their years had been fifteen and twenty,<br>For then wealth, kingdoms, worlds are but a sport -- I<br> Remember when, though I had no great plenty<br>Of worlds to lose, yet still, to pay my court, I<br> Gave what I had -- a heart: as the world went, I<br>Gave what was worth a world; for worlds could never<br>Restore me those pure feelings, gone forever.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> VI<br>'T was the boy's "mite," and, like the "widow's," may<br> Perhaps be weigh'd hereafter, if not now;<br>But whether such things do or do not weigh,<br> All who have loved, or love, will still allow<br>Life has nought like it. God is love, they say,<br> And Love's a god, or was before the brow<br>Of earth was wrinkled by the sins and tears<br>Of -- but Chronology best knows the years.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> VII<br>We left our hero and third heroine in<br> A kind of state more awkward than uncommon,<br>For gentlemen must sometimes risk their skin<br> For that sad tempter, a forbidden woman:<br>Sultans too much abhor this sort of sin,<br> And don't agree at all with the wise Roman,<br>Heroic, stoic Cato, the sententious,<br>Who lent his lady to his friend Hortensius.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> VIII<br>I know Gulbeyaz was extremely wrong;<br> I own it, I deplore it, I condemn it;<br>But I detest all fiction even in song,<br> And so must tell the truth, howe'er you blame it.<br>Her reason being weak, her passions strong,<br> She thought that her lord's heart (even could she claim it)<br>Was scarce enough; for he had fifty-nine<br>Years, and a fifteen-hundredth concubine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> IX<br>I am not, like Cassio, "an arithmetician,"<br> But by "the bookish theoric" it appears,<br>If 't is summ'd up with feminine precision,<br> That, adding to the account his Highness' years,<br>The fair Sultana err'd from inanition;<br> For, were the Sultan just to all his dears,<br>She could but claim the fifteen-hundredth part<br>Of what should be monopoly -- the heart.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> X<br>It is observed that ladies are litigious<br> Upon all legal objects of possession,<br>And not the least so when they are religious,<br> Which doubles what they think of the transgression:<br>With suits and prosecutions they besiege us,<br> As the tribunals show through many a session,<br>When they suspect that any one goes shares<br>In that to which the law makes them sole heirs.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XI<br>Now, if this holds good in a Christian land,<br> The heathen also, though with lesser latitude,<br>Are apt to carry things with a high hand,<br> And take what kings call "an imposing attitude,"<br>And for their rights connubial make a stand,<br> When their liege husbands treat them with ingratitude:<br>And as four wives must have quadruple claims,<br>The Tigris hath its jealousies like Thames.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XII<br>Gulbeyaz was the fourth, and (as I said)<br> The favourite; but what is favour amongst four?<br>Polygamy may well be held in dread,<br> Not only as a sin, but as a bore:<br>Most wise men, with one moderate woman wed,<br> Will scarcely find philosophy for more;<br>And all (except Mahometans) forbear<br>To make the nuptial couch a "Bed of Ware."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XIII<br>His Highness, the sublimest of mankind, --<br> So styled according to the usual forms<br>Of every monarch, till they are consign'd<br> To those sad hungry jacobins the worms,<br>Who on the very loftiest kings have dined, --<br> His Highness gazed upon Gulbeyaz' charms,<br>Expecting all the welcome of a lover<br>(A "Highland welcome" all the wide world over).</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XIV<br>Now here we should distinguish; for howe'er<br> Kisses, sweet words, embraces, and all that,<br>May look like what is -- neither here nor there,<br> They are put on as easily as a hat,<br>Or rather bonnet, which the fair sex wear,<br> Trimm'd either heads or hearts to decorate,<br>Which form an ornament, but no more part<br>Of heads, than their caresses of the heart.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XV<br>A slight blush, a soft tremor, a calm kind<br> Of gentle feminine delight, and shown<br>More in the eyelids than the eyes, resign'd<br> Rather to hide what pleases most unknown,<br>Are the best tokens (to a modest mind)<br> Of love, when seated on his loveliest throne,<br>A sincere woman's breast, -- for over-warm<br>Or over-cold annihilates the charm.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XVI<br>For over-warmth, if false, is worse than truth;<br> If true, 't is no great lease of its own fire;<br>For no one, save in very early youth,<br> Would like (I think) to trust all to desire,<br>Which is but a precarious bond, in sooth,<br> And apt to be transferr'd to the first buyer<br>At a sad discount: while your over chilly<br>Women, on t' other hand, seem somewhat silly.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XVII<br>That is, we cannot pardon their bad taste,<br> For so it seems to lovers swift or slow,<br>Who fain would have a mutual flame confess'd,<br> And see a sentimental passion glow,<br>Even were St. Francis' paramour their guest,<br> In his monastic concubine of snow; --<br>In short, the maxim for the amorous tribe is<br>Horatian, "Medio tu tutissimus ibis."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XVIII<br>The "tu"'s too much, -- but let it stand, -- the verse<br> Requires it, that's to say, the English rhyme,<br>And not the pink of old hexameters;<br> But, after all, there's neither tune nor time<br>In the last line, which cannot well be worse,<br> And was thrust in to close the octave's chime:<br>I own no prosody can ever rate it<br>As a rule, but Truth may, if you translate it.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XIX<br>If fair Gulbeyaz overdid her part,<br> I know not -- it succeeded, and success<br>Is much in most things, not less in the heart<br> Than other articles of female dress.<br>Self-love in man, too, beats all female art;<br> They lie, we lie, all lie, but love no less;<br>And no one virtue yet, except starvation,<br>Could stop that worst of vices -- propagation.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XX<br>We leave this royal couple to repose:<br> A bed is not a throne, and they may sleep,<br>Whate'er their dreams be, if of joys or woes:<br> Yet disappointed joys are woes as deep<br>As any man's day mixture undergoes.<br> Our least of sorrows are such as we weep;<br>'T is the vile daily drop on drop which wears<br>The soul out (like the stone) with petty cares.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XXI<br>A scolding wife, a sullen son, a bill<br> To pay, unpaid, protested, or discounted<br>At a per-centage; a child cross, dog ill,<br> A favourite horse fallen lame just as he's mounted,<br>A bad old woman making a worse will,<br> Which leaves you minus of the cash you counted<br>As certain; -- these are paltry things, and yet<br>I've rarely seen the man they did not fret.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XXII<br>I'm a philosopher; confound them all!<br> Bills, beasts, and men, and -- no! not womankind!<br>With one good hearty curse I vent my gall,<br> And then my stoicism leaves nought behind<br>Which it can either pain or evil call,<br> And I can give my whole soul up to mind;<br>Though what is soul or mind, their birth or growth,<br>Is more than I know -- the deuce take them both!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XXIII<br>So now all things are damned one feels at ease,<br> As after reading Athanasius' curse,<br>Which doth your true believer so much please:<br> I doubt if any now could make it worse<br>O'er his worst enemy when at his knees,<br> 'T is so sententious, positive, and terse,<br>And decorates the book of Common Prayer,<br>As doth a rainbow the just clearing air.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XXIV<br>Gulbeyaz and her lord were sleeping, or<br> At least one of them! -- Oh, the heavy night,<br>When wicked wives, who love some bachelor,<br> Lie down in dudgeon to sigh for the light<br>Of the gray morning, and look vainly for<br> Its twinkle through the lattice dusky quite --<br>To toss, to tumble, doze, revive, and quake<br>Lest their too lawful bed-fellow should wake!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XXV<br>These are beneath the canopy of heaven,<br> Also beneath the canopy of beds<br>Four-posted and silk curtain'd, which are given<br> For rich men and their brides to lay their heads<br>Upon, in sheets white as what bards call "driven<br> Snow." Well! 't is all hap-hazard when one weds.<br>Gulbeyaz was an empress, but had been<br>Perhaps as wretched if a peasant's quean.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XXVI<br>Don Juan in his feminine disguise,<br> With all the damsels in their long array,<br>Had bow'd themselves before th' imperial eyes,<br> And at the usual signal ta'en their way<br>Back to their chambers, those long galleries<br> In the seraglio, where the ladies lay<br>Their delicate limbs; a thousand bosoms there<br>Beating for love, as the caged bird's for air.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XXVII<br>I love the sex, and sometimes would reverse<br> The tyrant's wish, "that mankind only had<br>One neck, which he with one fell stroke might pierce:"<br> My wish is quite as wide, but not so bad,<br>And much more tender on the whole than fierce;<br> It being (not now, but only while a lad)<br>That womankind had but one rosy mouth,<br>To kiss them all at once from North to South.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XXVIII<br>Oh, enviable Briareus! with thy hands<br> And heads, if thou hadst all things multiplied<br>In such proportion! -- But my Muse withstands<br> The giant thought of being a Titan's bride,<br>Or travelling in Patagonian lands;<br> So let us back to Lilliput, and guide<br>Our hero through the labyrinth of love<br>In which we left him several lines above.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XXIX<br>He went forth with the lovely Odalisques,<br> At the given signal join'd to their array;<br>And though he certainly ran many risks,<br> Yet he could not at times keep, by the way<br>(Although the consequences of such frisks<br> Are worse than the worst damages men pay<br>In moral England, where the thing's a tax),<br>From ogling all their charms from breasts to backs.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XXX<br>Still he forgot not his disguise: -- along<br> The galleries from room to room they walk'd,<br>A virgin-like and edifying throng,<br> By eunuchs flank'd; while at their head there stalk'd<br>A dame who kept up discipline among<br> The female ranks, so that none stirr'd or talk'd<br>Without her sanction on their she-parades:<br>Her title was "the Mother of the Maids."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XXXI<br>Whether she was a "mother," I know not,<br> Or whether they were "maids" who call'd her mother;<br>But this is her seraglio title, got<br> I know not how, but good as any other;<br>So Cantemir can tell you, or De Tott:<br> Her office was to keep aloof or smother<br>All bad propensities in fifteen hundred<br>Young women, and correct them when they blunder'd.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XXXII<br>A goodly sinecure, no doubt! but made<br> More easy by the absence of all men --<br>Except his majesty, who, with her aid,<br> And guards, and bolts, and walls, and now and then<br>A slight example, just to cast a shade<br> Along the rest, contrived to keep this den<br>Of beauties cool as an Italian convent,<br>Where all the passions have, alas! but one vent.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XXXIII<br>And what is that? Devotion, doubtless -- how<br> Could you ask such a question? -- but we will<br>Continue. As I said, this goodly row<br> Of ladies of all countries at the will<br>Of one good man, with stately march and slow,<br> Like water-lilies floating down a rill --<br>Or rather lake, for rills do not run slowly, --<br>Paced on most maiden-like and melancholy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XXXIV<br>But when they reach'd their own apartments, there,<br> Like birds, or boys, or bedlamites broke loose,<br>Waves at spring-tide, or women anywhere<br> When freed from bonds (which are of no great use<br>After all), or like Irish at a fair,<br> Their guards being gone, and as it were a truce<br>Establish'd between them and bondage, they<br>Began to sing, dance, chatter, smile, and play.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XXXV<br>Their talk, of course, ran most on the new comer;<br> Her shape, her hair, her air, her everything:<br>Some thought her dress did not so much become her,<br> Or wonder'd at her ears without a ring;<br>Some said her years were getting nigh their summer,<br> Others contended they were but in spring;<br>Some thought her rather masculine in height,<br>While others wish'd that she had been so quite.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XXXVI<br>But no one doubted on the whole, that she<br> Was what her dress bespoke, a damsel fair,<br>And fresh, and "beautiful exceedingly,"<br> Who with the brightest Georgians might compare:<br>They wonder'd how Gulbeyaz, too, could be<br> So silly as to buy slaves who might share<br>(If that his Highness wearied of his bride)<br>Her throne and power, and every thing beside.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XXXVII<br>But what was strangest in this virgin crew,<br> Although her beauty was enough to vex,<br>After the first investigating view,<br> They all found out as few, or fewer, specks<br>In the fair form of their companion new,<br> Than is the custom of the gentle sex,<br>When they survey, with Christian eyes or Heathen,<br>In a new face "the ugliest creature breathing."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XXXVIII<br>And yet they had their little jealousies,<br> Like all the rest; but upon this occasion,<br>Whether there are such things as sympathies<br> Without our knowledge or our approbation,<br>Although they could not see through his disguise,<br> All felt a soft kind of concatenation,<br>Like magnetism, or devilism, or what<br>You please -- we will not quarrel about that:</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XXXIX<br>But certain 'tis they all felt for their new<br> Companion something newer still, as 't were<br>A sentimental friendship through and through,<br> Extremely pure, which made them all concur<br>In wishing her their sister, save a few<br> Who wish'd they had a brother just like her,<br>Whom, if they were at home in sweet Circassia,<br>They would prefer to Padisha or Pacha.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XL<br>Of those who had most genius for this sort<br> Of sentimental friendship, there were three,<br>Lolah, Katinka, and Dudù; in short<br> (To save description), fair as fair can be<br>Were they, according to the best report,<br> Though differing in stature and degree,<br>And clime and time, and country and complexion;<br>They all alike admired their new connection.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XLI<br>Lolah was dusk as India and as warm;<br> Katinka was a Georgian, white and red,<br>With great blue eyes, a lovely hand and arm,<br> And feet so small they scarce seem'd made to tread,<br>But rather skim the earth; while Dudù's form<br> Look'd more adapted to be put to bed,<br>Being somewhat large, and languishing, and lazy,<br>Yet of a beauty that would drive you crazy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XLII<br>A kind of sleepy Venus seem'd Dudù,<br> Yet very fit to "murder sleep" in those<br>Who gazed upon her cheek's transcendent hue,<br> Her Attic forehead, and her Phidian nose:<br>Few angles were there in her form, 't is true,<br> Thinner she might have been, and yet scarce lose;<br>Yet, after all, 't would puzzle to say where<br>It would not spoil some separate charm to pare.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XLIII<br>She was not violently lively, but<br> Stole on your spirit like a May-day breaking;<br>Her eyes were not too sparkling, yet, half-shut,<br> They put beholders in a tender taking;<br>She look'd (this simile's quite new) just cut<br> From marble, like Pygmalion's statue waking,<br>The mortal and the marble still at strife,<br>And timidly expanding into life.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XLIV<br>Lolah demanded the new damsel's name --<br> "Juanna." -- Well, a pretty name enough.<br>Katinka ask'd her also whence she came --<br> "From Spain." -- "But where is Spain?" -- "Don't ask such stuff,<br>Nor show your Georgian ignorance -- for shame!"<br> Said Lolah, with an accent rather rough,<br>To poor Katinka: "Spain's an island near<br>Morocco, betwixt Egypt and Tangier."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XLV<br>Dudù said nothing, but sat down beside<br> Juanna, playing with her veil or hair;<br>And looking at her steadfastly, she sigh'd,<br> As if she pitied her for being there,<br>A pretty stranger without friend or guide,<br> And all abash'd, too, at the general stare<br>Which welcomes hapless strangers in all places,<br>With kind remarks upon their mien and faces.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XLVI<br>But here the Mother of the Maids drew near,<br> With, "Ladies, it is time to go to rest.<br>I'm puzzled what to do with you, my dear,"<br> She added to Juanna, their new guest:<br>"Your coming has been unexpected here,<br> And every couch is occupied; you had best<br>Partake of mine; but by to-morrow early<br>We will have all things settled for you fairly."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XLVII<br>Here Lolah interposed -- "Mamma, you know<br> You don't sleep soundly, and I cannot bear<br>That anybody should disturb you so;<br> I'll take Juanna; we're a slenderer pair<br>Than you would make the half of; -- don't say no;<br> And I of your young charge will take due care."<br>But here Katinka interfered, and said,<br>"She also had compassion and a bed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XLVIII<br>"Besides, I hate to sleep alone," quoth she.<br> The matron frown'd: "Why so?" -- "For fear of ghosts,"<br>Replied Katinka; "I am sure I see<br> A phantom upon each of the four posts;<br>And then I have the worst dreams that can be,<br> Of Guebres, Giaours, and Ginns, and Gouls in hosts."<br>The dame replied, "Between your dreams and you,<br>I fear Juanna's dreams would be but few.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XLIX<br>"You, Lolah, must continue still to lie<br> Alone, for reasons which don't matter; you<br>The same, Katinka, until by and by;<br> And I shall place Juanna with Dudù,<br>Who's quiet, inoffensive, silent, shy,<br> And will not toss and chatter the night through.<br>What say you, child?" -- Dudù said nothing, as<br>Her talents were of the more silent class;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> L<br>But she rose up, and kiss'd the matron's brow<br> Between the eyes, and Lolah on both cheeks,<br>Katinka, too; and with a gentle bow<br> (Curt'sies are neither used by Turks nor Greeks)<br>She took Juanna by the hand to show<br> Their place of rest, and left to both their piques,<br>The others pouting at the matron's preference<br>Of Dudù, though they held their tongues from deference.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LI<br>It was a spacious chamber (Oda is<br> The Turkish title), and ranged round the wall<br>Were couches, toilets -- and much more than this<br> I might describe, as I have seen it all,<br>But it suffices -- little was amiss;<br> 'T was on the whole a nobly furnish'd hall,<br>With all things ladies want, save one or two,<br>And even those were nearer than they knew.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LII<br>Dudù, as has been said, was a sweet creature,<br> Not very dashing, but extremely winning,<br>With the most regulated charms of feature,<br> Which painters cannot catch like faces sinning<br>Against proportion -- the wild strokes of nature<br> Which they hit off at once in the beginning,<br>Full of expression, right or wrong, that strike,<br>And pleasing or unpleasing, still are like.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LIII<br>But she was a soft landscape of mild earth,<br> Where all was harmony, and calm, and quiet,<br>Luxuriant, budding; cheerful without mirth,<br> Which, if not happiness, is much more nigh it<br>Than are your mighty passions and so forth,<br> Which some call "the sublime:" I wish they'd try it:<br>I've seen your stormy seas and stormy women,<br>And pity lovers rather more than seamen.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LIV<br>But she was pensive more than melancholy,<br> And serious more than pensive, and serene,<br>It may be, more than either -- not unholy<br> Her thoughts, at least till now, appear to have been.<br>The strangest thing was, beauteous, she was wholly<br> Unconscious, albeit turn'd of quick seventeen,<br>That she was fair, or dark, or short, or tall;<br>She never thought about herself at all.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LV<br>And therefore was she kind and gentle as<br> The Age of Gold (when gold was yet unknown,<br>By which its nomenclature came to pass;<br> Thus most appropriately has been shown<br>"Lucus à non lucendo," not what was,<br> But what was not; a sort of style that's grown<br>Extremely common in this age, whose metal<br>The devil may decompose, but never settle:</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LVI<br>I think it may be of "Corinthian Brass,"<br> Which was a mixture of all metals, but<br>The brazen uppermost). Kind reader! pass<br> This long parenthesis: I could not shut<br>It sooner for the soul of me, and class<br> My faults even with your own! which meaneth, Put<br>A kind construction upon them and me:<br>But that you won't -- then don't -- I am not less free.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LVII<br>'T is time we should return to plain narration,<br> And thus my narrative proceeds: -- Dudù,<br>With every kindness short of ostentation,<br> Show'd Juan, or Juanna, through and through<br>This labyrinth of females, and each station<br> Described -- what's strange -- in words extremely few:<br>I have but one simile, and that's a blunder,<br>For wordless woman, which is silent thunder.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LVIII<br>And next she gave her (I say her, because<br> The gender still was epicene, at least<br>In outward show, which is a saving clause)<br> An outline of the customs of the East,<br>With all their chaste integrity of laws,<br> By which the more a haram is increased,<br>The stricter doubtless grow the vestal duties<br>Of any supernumerary beauties.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LIX<br>And then she gave Juanna a chaste kiss:<br> Dudù was fond of kissing -- which I'm sure<br>That nobody can ever take amiss,<br> Because 't is pleasant, so that it be pure,<br>And between females means no more than this --<br> That they have nothing better near, or newer.<br>"Kiss" rhymes to "bliss" in fact as well as verse --<br>I wish it never led to something worse.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LX<br>In perfect innocence she then unmade<br> Her toilet, which cost little, for she was<br>A child of Nature, carelessly array'd:<br> If fond of a chance ogle at her glass,<br>'T was like the fawn, which, in the lake display'd,<br> Beholds her own shy, shadowy image pass,<br>When first she starts, and then returns to peep,<br>Admiring this new native of the deep.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXI<br>And one by one her articles of dress<br> Were laid aside; but not before she offer'd<br>Her aid to fair Juanna, whose excess<br> Of modesty declined the assistance proffer'd:<br>Which pass'd well off -- as she could do no less;<br> Though by this politesse she rather suffer'd,<br>Pricking her fingers with those cursed pins,<br>Which surely were invented for our sins, --</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXII<br>Making a woman like a porcupine,<br> Not to be rashly touch'd. But still more dread,<br>Oh ye! whose fate it is, as once 't was mine,<br> In early youth, to turn a lady's maid; --<br>I did my very boyish best to shine<br> In tricking her out for a masquerade;<br>The pins were placed sufficiently, but not<br>Stuck all exactly in the proper spot.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXIII<br>But these are foolish things to all the wise,<br> And I love wisdom more than she loves me;<br>My tendency is to philosophise<br> On most things, from a tyrant to a tree;<br>But still the spouseless virgin Knowledge flies.<br> What are we? and whence came we? what shall be<br>Our ultimate existence? what's our present?<br>Are questions answerless, and yet incessant.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXIV<br>There was deep silence in the chamber: dim<br> And distant from each other burn'd the lights,<br>And slumber hover'd o'er each lovely limb<br> Of the fair occupants: if there be sprites,<br>They should have walk'd there in their sprightliest trim,<br> By way of change from their sepulchral sites,<br>And shown themselves as ghosts of better taste<br>Than haunting some old ruin or wild waste.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXV<br>Many and beautiful lay those around,<br> Like flowers of different hue, and dime, and root,<br>In some exotic garden sometimes found,<br> With cost, and care, and warmth induced to shoot.<br>One with her auburn tresses lightly bound,<br> And fair brows gently drooping, as the fruit<br>Nods from the tree, was slumbering with soft breath,<br>And lips apart, which show'd the pearls beneath.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXVI<br>One with her flush'd cheek laid on her white arm,<br> And raven ringlets gather'd in dark crowd<br>Above her brow, lay dreaming soft and warm;<br> And smiling through her dream, as through a cloud<br>The moon breaks, half unveil'd each further charm,<br> As, slightly stirring in her snowy shroud,<br>Her beauties seized the unconscious hour of night<br>All bashfully to struggle into light.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXVII<br>This is no bull, although it sounds so; for<br> 'T was night, but there were lamps, as hath been said.<br>A third's all pallid aspect offer'd more<br> The traits of sleeping sorrow, and betray'd<br>Through the heaved breast the dream of some far shore<br> Belovéd and deplored; while slowly stray'd<br>(As night-dew, on a cypress glittering, tinges<br>The black bough) tear-drops through her eyes' dark fringes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXVIII<br>A fourth as marble, statue-like and still,<br> Lay in a breathless, hush'd, and stony sleep;<br>White, cold, and pure, as looks a frozen rill,<br> Or the snow minaret on an Alpine steep,<br>Or Lot's wife done in salt, -- or what you will; --<br> My similes are gather'd in a heap,<br>So pick and choose -- perhaps you'll be content<br>With a carved lady on a monument.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXIX<br>And lo! a fifth appears; -- and what is she?<br> A lady of a "certain age," which means<br>Certainly agéd -- what her years might be<br> I know not, never counting past their teens;<br>But there she slept, not quite so fair to see,<br> As ere that awful period intervenes<br>Which lays both men and women on the shelf,<br>To meditate upon their sins and self.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXX<br>But all this time how slept, or dream'd, Dudù?<br> With strict inquiry I could ne'er discover,<br>And scorn to add a syllable untrue;<br> But ere the middle watch was hardly over,<br>Just when the fading lamps waned dim and blue,<br> And phantoms hover'd, or might seem to hover,<br>To those who like their company, about<br>The apartment, on a sudden she scream'd out:</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXXI<br>And that so loudly, that upstarted all<br> The Oda, in a general commotion:<br>Matron and maids, and those whom you may call<br> Neither, came crowding like the waves of ocean,<br>One on the other, throughout the whole hall,<br> All trembling, wondering, without the least notion<br>More than I have myself of what could make<br>The calm Dudù so turbulently wake.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXXII<br>But wide awake she was, and round her bed,<br> With floating draperies and with flying hair,<br>With eager eyes, and light but hurried tread,<br> And bosoms, arms, and ankles glancing bare,<br>And bright as any meteor ever bred<br> By the North Pole, -- they sought her cause of care,<br>For she seem'd agitated, flush'd, and frighten'd,<br>Her eye dilated and her colour heighten'd.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXXIII<br>But what was strange -- and a strong proof how great<br> A blessing is sound sleep -- Juanna lay<br>As fast as ever husband by his mate<br> In holy matrimony snores away.<br>Not all the clamour broke her happy state<br> Of slumber, ere they shook her, -- so they say<br>At least, -- and then she, too, unclosed her eyes,<br>And yawn'd a good deal with discreet surprise.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXXIV<br>And now commenced a strict investigation,<br> Which, as all spoke at once and more than once,<br>Conjecturing, wondering, asking a narration,<br> Alike might puzzle either wit or dunce<br>To answer in a very clear oration.<br> Dudù had never pass'd for wanting sense,<br>But, being "no orator as Brutus is,"<br>Could not at first expound what was amiss.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXXV<br>At length she said, that in a slumber sound<br> She dream'd a dream, of walking in a wood --<br>A "wood obscure," like that where Dante found<br> Himself in at the age when all grow good;<br>Life's half-way house, where dames with virtue crown'd<br> Run much less risk of lovers turning rude;<br>And that this wood was full of pleasant fruits,<br>And trees of goodly growth and spreading roots;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXXVI<br>And in the midst a golden apple grew, --<br> A most prodigious pippin, -- but it hung<br>Rather too high and distant; that she threw<br> Her glances on it, and then, longing, flung<br>Stones and whatever she could pick up, to<br> Bring down the fruit, which still perversely clung<br>To its own bough, and dangled yet in sight,<br>But always at a most provoking height; --</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXXVII<br>That on a sudden, when she least had hope,<br> It fell down of its own accord before<br>Her feet; that her first movement was to stoop<br> And pick it up, and bite it to the core;<br>That just as her young lip began to ope<br> Upon the golden fruit the vision bore,<br>A bee flew out and stung her to the heart,<br>And so -- she awoke with a great scream and start.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXXVIII<br>All this she told with some confusion and<br> Dismay, the usual consequence of dreams<br>Of the unpleasant kind, with none at hand<br> To expound their vain and visionary gleams.<br>I've known some odd ones which seem'd really plann'd<br> Prophetically, or that which one deems<br>A "strange coincidence," to use a phrase<br>By which such things are settled now-a-days.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXXIX<br>The damsels, who had thoughts of some great harm,<br> Began, as is the consequence of fear,<br>To scold a little at the false alarm<br> That broke for nothing on their sleeping car.<br>The matron, too, was wroth to leave her warm<br> Bed for the dream she had been obliged to hear,<br>And chafed at poor Dudù, who only sigh'd,<br>And said that she was sorry she had cried.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXXX<br>"I've heard of stories of a cock and bull;<br> But visions of an apple and a bee,<br>To take us from our natural rest, and pull<br> The whole Oda from their beds at half-past three,<br>Would make us think the moon is at its full.<br> You surely are unwell, child! we must see,<br>To-morrow, what his Highness's physician<br>Will say to this hysteric of a vision.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXXXI<br>"And poor Juanna, too -- the child's first night<br> Within these walls to be broke in upon<br>With such a clamour! I had thought it right<br> That the young stranger should not lie alone,<br>And, as the quietest of all, she might<br> With you, Dudù, a good night's rest have known;<br>But now I must transfer her to the charge<br>Of Lolah -- though her couch is not so large."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXXXII<br>Lolah's eyes sparkled at the proposition;<br> But poor Dudù, with large drops in her own,<br>Resulting from the scolding or the vision,<br> Implored that present pardon might be shown<br>For this first fault, and that on no condition<br> (She added in a soft and piteous tone)<br>Juanna should be taken from her, and<br>Her future dreams should all be kept in hand.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXXXIII<br>She promised never more to have a dream,<br> At least to dream so loudly as just now;<br>She wonder'd at herself how she could scream --<br> 'T was foolish, nervous, as she must allow,<br>A fond hallucination, and a theme<br> For laughter -- but she felt her spirits low,<br>And begg'd they would excuse her; she'd get over<br>This weakness in a few hours, and recover.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXXXIV<br>And here Juanna kindly interposed,<br> And said she felt herself extremely well<br>Where she then was, as her sound sleep disclosed<br> When all around rang like a tocsin bell:<br>She did not find herself the least disposed<br> To quit her gentle partner, and to dwell<br>Apart from one who had no sin to show,<br>Save that of dreaming once "mal-à-propos."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXXXV<br>As thus Juanna spoke, Dudù turn'd round<br> And hid her face within Juanna's breast:<br>Her neck alone was seen, but that was found<br> The colour of a budding rose's crest.<br>I can't tell why she blush'd, nor can expound<br> The mystery of this rupture of their rest;<br>All that I know is, that the facts I state<br>Are true as truth has ever been of late.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXXXVI<br>And so good night to them, -- or, if you will,<br> Good morrow -- for the cock had crown, and light<br>Began to clothe each Asiatic hill,<br> And the mosque crescent struggled into sight<br>Of the long caravan, which in the chill<br> Of dewy dawn wound slowly round each height<br>That stretches to the stony belt, which girds<br>Asia, where Kaff looks down upon the Kurds.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXXXVII<br>With the first ray, or rather grey of morn,<br> Gulbeyaz rose from restlessness; and pale<br>As passion rises, with its bosom worn,<br> Array'd herself with mantle, gem, and veil.<br>The nightingale that sings with the deep thorn,<br> Which fable places in her breast of wail,<br>Is lighter far of heart and voice than those<br>Whose headlong passions form their proper woes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXXXVIII<br>And that's the moral of this composition,<br> If people would but see its real drift; --<br>But that they will not do without suspicion,<br> Because all gentle readers have the gift<br>Of closing 'gainst the light their orbs of vision;<br> While gentle writers also love to lift<br>Their voices 'gainst each other, which is natural,<br>The numbers are too great for them to flatter all.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> LXXXIX<br>Rose the sultana from a bed of splendour,<br> Softer than the soft Sybarite's, who cried<br>Aloud because his feelings were too tender<br> To brook a ruffled rose-leaf by his side, --<br>So beautiful that art could little mend her,<br> Though pale with conflicts between love and pride; --<br>So agitated was she with her error,<br>She did not even look into the mirror.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XC<br>Also arose about the self-same time,<br> Perhaps a little later, her great lord,<br>Master of thirty kingdoms so sublime,<br> And of a wife by whom he was abhorr'd;<br>A thing of much less import in that clime --<br> At least to those of incomes which afford<br>The filling up their whole connubial cargo --<br>Than where two wives are under an embargo.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XCI<br>He did not think much on the matter, nor<br> Indeed on any other: as a man<br>He liked to have a handsome paramour<br> At hand, as one may like to have a fan,<br>And therefore of Circassians had good store,<br> As an amusement after the Divan;<br>Though an unusual fit of love, or duty,<br>Had made him lately bask in his bride's beauty.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XCII<br>And now he rose; and after due ablutions<br> Exacted by the customs of the East,<br>And prayers and other pious evolutions,<br> He drank six cups of coffee at the least,<br>And then withdrew to hear about the Russians,<br> Whose victories had recently increased<br>In Catherine's reign, whom glory still adores,<br>As greatest of all sovereigns and w--s.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XCIII<br>But oh, thou grand legitimate Alexander!<br> Her son's son, let not this last phrase offend<br>Thine ear, if it should reach -- and now rhymes wander<br> Almost as far as Petersburgh and lend<br>A dreadful impulse to each loud meander<br> Of murmuring Liberty's wide waves, which blend<br>Their roar even with the Baltic's -- so you be<br>Your father's son, 't is quite enough for me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XCIV<br>To call men love-begotten or proclaim<br> Their mothers as the antipodes of Timon,<br>That hater of mankind, would be a shame,<br> A libel, or whate'er you please to rhyme on:<br>But people's ancestors are history's game;<br> And if one lady's slip could leave a crime on<br>All generations, I should like to know<br>What pedigree the best would have to show?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XCV<br>Had Catherine and the sultan understood<br> Their own true interests, which kings rarely know<br>Until 't is taught by lessons rather rude,<br> There was a way to end their strife, although<br>Perhaps precarious, had they but thought good,<br> Without the aid of prince or plenipo:<br>She to dismiss her guards and he his haram,<br>And for their other matters, meet and share 'em.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XCVI<br>But as it was, his Highness had to hold<br> His daily council upon ways and means<br>How to encounter with this martial scold,<br> This modern Amazon and queen of queans;<br>And the perplexity could not be told<br> Of all the pillars of the state, which leans<br>Sometimes a little heavy on the backs<br>Of those who cannot lay on a new tax.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XCVII<br>Meantime Gulbeyaz, when her king was gone,<br> Retired into her boudoir, a sweet place<br>For love or breakfast; private, pleasing, lone,<br> And rich with all contrivances which grace<br>Those gay recesses: -- many a precious stone<br> Sparkled along its roof, and many a vase<br>Of porcelain held in the fetter'd flowers,<br>Those captive soothers of a captive's hours.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XCVIII<br>Mother of pearl, and porphyry, and marble,<br> Vied with each other on this costly spot;<br>And singing birds without were heard to warble;<br> And the stain'd glass which lighted this fair grot<br>Varied each ray; -- but all descriptions garble<br> The true effect, and so we had better not<br>Be too minute; an outline is the best, --<br>A lively reader's fancy does the rest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> XCIX<br>And here she summon'd Baba, and required<br> Don Juan at his hands, and information<br>Of what had pass'd since all the slaves retired,<br> And whether he had occupied their station;<br>If matters had been managed as desired,<br> And his disguise with due consideration<br>Kept up; and above all, the where and how<br>He had pass'd the night, was what she wish'd to know.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> C<br>Baba, with some embarrassment, replied<br> To this long catechism of questions, ask'd<br>More easily than answer'd, -- that he had tried<br> His best to obey in what he had been task'd;<br>But there seem'd something that he wish'd to hide,<br> Which hesitation more betray'd than mask'd;<br>He scratch'd his ear, the infallible resource<br>To which embarrass'd people have recourse.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CI<br>Gulbeyaz was no model of true patience,<br> Nor much disposed to wait in word or deed;<br>She liked quick answers in all conversations;<br> And when she saw him stumbling like a steed<br>In his replies, she puzzled him for fresh ones;<br> And as his speech grew still more broken-kneed,<br>Her cheek began to flush, her eyes to sparkle,<br>And her proud brow's blue veins to swell and darkle.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CII<br>When Baba saw these symptoms, which he knew<br> To bode him no great good, he deprecated<br>Her anger, and beseech'd she'd hear him through --<br> He could not help the thing which he related:<br>Then out it came at length, that to Dudù<br> Juan was given in charge, as hath been stated;<br>But not by Baba's fault, he said, and swore on<br>The holy camel's hump, besides the Koran.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CIII<br>The chief dame of the Oda, upon whom<br> The discipline of the whole haram bore,<br>As soon as they re-enter'd their own room,<br> For Baba's function stopt short at the door,<br>Had settled all; nor could he then presume<br> (The aforesaid Baba) just then to do more,<br>Without exciting such suspicion as<br>Might make the matter still worse than it was.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CIV<br>He hoped, indeed he thought, he could be sure<br> Juan had not betray'd himself; in fact<br>'T was certain that his conduct had been pure,<br> Because a foolish or imprudent act<br>Would not alone have made him insecure,<br> But ended in his being found out and sacked,<br>And thrown into the sea. -- Thus Baba spoke<br>Of all save Dudù's dream, which was no joke.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CV<br>This he discreetly kept in the background,<br> And talk'd away -- and might have talk'd till now,<br>For any further answer that he found,<br> So deep an anguish wrung Gulbeyaz' brow:<br>Her cheek turn'd ashes, ears rung, brain whirl'd round,<br> As if she had received a sudden blow,<br>And the heart's dew of pain sprang fast and chilly<br>O'er her fair front, like Morning's on a lily.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CVI<br>Although she was not of the fainting sort,<br> Baba thought she would faint, but there he err'd --<br>It was but a convulsion, which though short<br> Can never be described; we all have heard,<br>And some of us have felt thus "all amort,"<br> When things beyond the common have occurr'd; --<br>Gulbeyaz proved in that brief agony<br>What she could ne'er express -- then how should I?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CVII<br>She stood a moment as a Pythones<br> Stands on her tripod, agonised, and full<br>Of inspiration gather'd from distress,<br> When all the heart-strings like wild horses pull<br>The heart asunder; -- then, as more or lees<br> Their speed abated or their strength grew dull,<br>She sunk down on her seat by slow degrees,<br>And bow'd her throbbing head o'er trembling knees.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CVIII<br>Her face declined and was unseen; her hair<br> Fell in long tresses like the weeping willow,<br>Sweeping the marble underneath her chair,<br> Or rather sofa (for it was all pillow,<br>A low soft ottoman), and black despair<br> Stirr'd up and down her bosom like a billow,<br>Which rushes to some shore whose shingles check<br>Its farther course, but must receive its wreck.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CIX<br>Her head hung down, and her long hair in stooping<br> Conceal'd her features better than a veil;<br>And one hand o'er the ottoman lay drooping,<br> White, waxen, and as alabaster pale:<br>Would that I were a painter! to be grouping<br> All that a poet drags into detail<br>Oh that my words were colours! but their tints<br>May serve perhaps as outlines or slight hints.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CX<br>Baba, who knew by experience when to talk<br> And when to hold his tongue, now held it till<br>This passion might blow o'er, nor dared to balk<br> Gulbeyaz' taciturn or speaking will.<br>At length she rose up, and began to walk<br> Slowly along the room, but silent still,<br>And her brow clear'd, but not her troubled eye;<br>The wind was down, but still the sea ran high.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXI<br>She stopp'd, and raised her head to speak -- but paused,<br> And then moved on again with rapid pace;<br>Then slacken'd it, which is the march most caused<br> By deep emotion: -- you may sometimes trace<br>A feeling in each footstep, as disclosed<br> By Sallust in his Catiline, who, chased<br>By all the demons of all passions, show'd<br>Their work even by the way in which he trode.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXII<br>Gulbeyaz stopp'd and beckon'd Baba: -- "Slave!<br> Bring the two slaves!" she said in a low tone,<br>But one which Baba did not like to brave,<br> And yet he shudder'd, and seem'd rather prone<br>To prove reluctant, and begg'd leave to crave<br> (Though he well knew the meaning) to be shown<br>What slaves her highness wish'd to indicate,<br>For fear of any error, like the late.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXIII<br>"The Georgian and her paramour," replied<br> The imperial bride -- and added, "Let the boat<br>Be ready by the secret portal's side:<br> You know the rest." The words stuck in her throat,<br>Despite her injured love and fiery pride;<br> And of this Baba willingly took note,<br>And begg'd by every hair of Mahomet's beard,<br>She would revoke the order he had heard.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXIV<br>"To hear is to obey," he said; "but still,<br> Sultana, think upon the consequence:<br>It is not that I shall not all fulfil<br> Your orders, even in their severest sense;<br>But such precipitation may end ill,<br> Even at your own imperative expense:<br>I do not mean destruction and exposure,<br>In case of any premature disclosure;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXV<br>"But your own feelings. Even should all the rest<br> Be hidden by the rolling waves, which hide<br>Already many a once love-beaten breast<br> Deep in the caverns of the deadly tide --<br>You love this boyish, new, seraglio guest,<br> And if this violent remedy be tried --<br>Excuse my freedom, when I here assure you,<br>That killing him is not the way to cure you."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXVI<br>"What dost thou know of love or feeling? -- Wretch!<br> Begone!" she cried, with kindling eyes -- "and do<br>My bidding!" Baba vanish'd, for to stretch<br> His own remonstrance further he well knew<br>Might end in acting as his own "Jack Ketch;"<br> And though he wish'd extremely to get through<br>This awkward business without harm to others,<br>He still preferr'd his own neck to another's.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXVII<br>Away he went then upon his commission,<br> Growling and grumbling in good Turkish phrase<br>Against all women of whate'er condition,<br> Especially sultanas and their ways;<br>Their obstinacy, pride, and indecision,<br> Their never knowing their own mind two days,<br>The trouble that they gave, their immorality,<br>Which made him daily bless his own neutrality.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXVIII<br>And then he call'd his brethren to his aid,<br> And sent one on a summons to the pair,<br>That they must instantly be well array'd,<br> And above all be comb'd even to a hair,<br>And brought before the empress, who had made<br> Inquiries after them with kindest care:<br>At which Dudù look'd strange, and Juan silly;<br>But go they must at once, and will I -- nill I.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXIX<br>And here I leave them at their preparation<br> For the imperial presence, wherein whether<br>Gulbeyaz show'd them both commiseration,<br> Or got rid of the parties altogether,<br>Like other angry ladies of her nation, --<br> Are things the turning of a hair or feather<br>May settle; but far be 't from me to anticipate<br>In what way feminine caprice may dissipate.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> CXX<br>I leave them for the present with good wishes,<br> Though doubts of their well doing, to arrange<br>Another part of history; for the dishes<br> Of this our banquet we must sometimes change;<br>And trusting Juan may escape the fishes,<br> Although his situation now seems strange<br>And scarce secure, as such digressions are fair,<br>The Muse will take a little touch at warfare.</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>
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<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=116891" data-title="Canto the Sixth de Byron" data-description="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 eve..."></div>
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