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They have a number, though they ne'er ex- | Teasing with blame, excruciating with hibit 'em,
praise, Four wives by law, and concubines “ad Gorging the little fame he gets all raw, libitum.'
560 Translating tongues he knows not even by
And sweating plays so middling, bad were They lock them up, and veil, and guard
better. them daily,
LXXV They scarcely can behold their male relations,
One hates an author that's all author, fel. So that their moments do not pass so gaily
lows As is supposed the case with northern In foolscap uniforms turn'd up with ink, nations;
So very anxious, clever, fine, and jealous, Confinement, too, must make them look One don't know what to say to them, or quite palely:
think, And as the Turks abhor long conversa | Unless to puff them with a pair of bellows; tions,
Of coxcombry's worst coxcombs e'en the Their days are either pass'd in doing no
Are preferable to these shreds of paper, Or bathing, nursing, making love, and These unquench'd snuffings of the midnight clothing.
600 LXXII They cannot read, and so don't lisp in criti | Of these same we see several, and of others, cism;
Men of the world, who know the world Nor write, and so they don't affect the
like men, muse;
570 Scott, Rogers, Moore, and all the better Were never caught in epigram or witticism,
brothers, Have no romances, sermons, plays, re Who think of something else besides the views,
pen; In harams learning soon would make a But for the children of the mighty mopretty schism !
ther's,' But luckily these beauties are no 'Blues,' The would-be wits and can't-be gentlemen, No bustling Botherbys have they to show I leave them to their daily tea is ready,' 'em
Smug coterie, and literary lady. • That charming passage in the last new poem, —
The poor dear Mussulwomen whom I menLXXIII
tion No solemn, antique gentleman of rhyme, Have none of these instructive pleasant Who having angled all his life for fame,
people, And getting but a nibble at a time, 579 | And one to them would seem a new invenStill fussily keeps fishing on, the same
tion, Small • Triton of the minnows,' the sublime Unknown as bells within a Turkish stee
Of mediocrity, the furious tame, The echo's echo, usher of the school
I think 't would almost be worth while to Of female wits, boy bards — in short, a
(Though best-sown projects very often
reap ill) LXXIV
A missionary author, just to preach A stalking oracle of awful phrase,
Our Christian usage of the parts of speech. The approving Good !' (by no means GOOD in law),
LXXVIII Humming like flies around the newest blaze, No chemistry for them unfolds her gases,
The bluest of bluebottles you e'er saw, I No metapbysics are let loose in lectures,
No circulating library amasses
LXXXII Religious novels, moral tales, and stric- | The morning now was on the point of tures
breaking, Upon the living manners, as they pass us; | A turn of time at which I would advise
No exhibition glares with annual pictures; | Ladies who have been dancing, or parThey stare not on the stars from out their
In any other kind of exercise, Nor deal (thank God for that!) in mathe To make their preparations for forsaking matics.
The ball-room ere the sun begins to rise,
Because when once the lamps and candles LXXIX
fail, Why I thank God for that is no great mat His blushes make them look a little pale.
ter, I have my reasons, you no doubt sup
I've seen some balls and revels in my And as, perhaps, they would not highly time, flatter,
And stay'd them over for some silly reaI'll keep them for my life (to come) in
And then I look'd (I hope it was no crime) I fear I have a little turn for satire,
To see what lady best stood out the sea And yet methinks the older that one
630 And though I've seen some thousands in Inclines us more to laugh than scold,
their prime, though laughter
Lovely and pleasing, and who still may Leaves us so doubly serious shortly after.
please on, I never saw but one (the stars withdrawn)
Whose bloom could after dancing dare the Oh, Mirth and Innocence ! Oh, Milk and
dawn. Water ! Ye happy mixtures of more happy days!
LXXXIV In these sad centuries of sin and slaughter, The name of this Aurora I 'll not mention, Abominable Man no more allays
Although I might, for she was naught to His thirst with such pure beverage. No
More than that patent work of God's inI love you both, and both shall have my
A charming woman whom we like to see; Oh, for old Saturn's reign of sugar-candy!— But writing names would merit reprehenMeantime I drink to your return in brandy. sion,
Yet if you like to find out this fair she, LXXXI
At the next London or Parisian ball 671 Our Laura's Turk still kept his eyes upon You still may mark her cheek, out-blooming
all. Less in the Mussulman than Christian way,
LXXXV Which seems to say, 'Madam, I do you Laura, who knew it would not do at all honour,
To meet the daylight after seven hours And while I please to stare, you 'l! please sitting to stay :'
Among three thousand people at a ball, Could staring win a woman, this had won To make her curtsy thought it right and her,
fitting; But Laura could not thus be led astray; | The Count was at her elbow with her shawl, She had stood fire too long and well, to And they the room were on the point of boggle
quitting, Even at this stranger's most outlandish When lo ! those cursed gondoliers had got ogle.
| Just in the very place where they should not.
Which saves much hartshorn, salts, and In this they 're like our coachmen, and the sprinkling faces, cause
681 And cutting stays, as usual in such cases. Is much the same — the crowd, and pulling, hauling,
хс With blasphemies enough to break their She said, — what could she say? Why, jaws,
not a word: They make a never intermitting bawling. But the Count courteously invited in At home, our Bow-street gemmen keep the The stranger, much appeased by what he laws,
heard: And here a sentry stands within your Such things, perhaps, we'd best discuss calling;
within,' But for all that, there is a deal of swearing, Said he; don't let us make ourselves ab And nauseous words past mentioning or bearing
In public by a scene, nor raise a din,
For then the chief and only satisfaction LXXXVII
Will be much quizzing on the whole transThe Count and Laura found their boat at
720 last, And homeward floated o'er the silent tide,
690 They enter'd and for coffee callid - it Discussing all the dances gone and past;
came, The dancers and their dresses, too, be A beverage for Turks and Christians side;
both, Some little scandals eke: but all aghast | Although the way they make it's not the (As to their palace stairs the rowers glide)
Now Laura, much recover'd, or less loth Sate Laura by the side of her Adorer, To speak, cries • Beppo ! what's your pagan When lo ! the Mussulman was there before
Bless me! your beard is of amazing
growth ! LXXXVIII
And how came you to keep away so long ? Sir,' said the Count, with brow exceed Are you not sensible 't was very wrong?
ing grave, *Your unexpected presence here will
. And are you really, truly, now a Turk ? It necessary for myself to crave
With any other women did you wive? 730 Its import? But perhaps 't is a mistake; Is 't true they use their fingers for a fork ? I hope it is so; and, at once to wave 701 Well, that's the prettiest shawl - as I'm All compliment, I hope so for your sake;
alive! You understand my meaning, or you shall." You 'll give it me? They say you eat no 'Sir' (quoth the Turk), “'t is no mistake
pork. at all.
And how so many years did you contrive
To- bless me! did I ever ? No, I never LXXXIX
Saw a man grown so yellow ! How 's your • That lady is my wife !' Much wonder
liver ? paints The lady's changing cheek, as well it might;
• Beppo ! that beard of yours becomes you But where an Englishwoman sometimes
It shall be shaved before you 're a day Italian females don't do so outright;
older: They only call a little on their saints, | Why do you wear it? Oh, I had forgot — And then come to themselves, almost or Pray don't you think the weather here is quite;
How do I look? You shan't stir from this And pass'd for a true Turkey-merchant, spot
trading In that queer dress, for fear that some With goods of various names, but I forbeholder
got 'em. Should find you out, and make the story | However, he got off by this evading, known.
Or else the people would perhaps have How short your hair is ! Lord, how grey
shot him; it's grown!'
And thus at Venice landed to reclaim
His wife, religion, house, and Christian XCIV
name. What answer Beppo made to these demands
XCVIII . Is more than I know. He was cast away His wife received, the patriarch re-baptized About where Troy stood once, and nothing stands;
(He made the church a present, by the Became a slave of course, and for his
He then threw off the garments which disHad bread and bastinadoes, till some bands
guised him, Of pirates landing in a neighbouring bay, And borrow'd the Count's smallclothes He join'd the rogues and prosper'd and be
for a day:
751 His friends the more for his long absence A renegado of indifferent fame.
Finding he 'd wherewithal to make them But he grew rich, and with his riches grew With dinners, where he oft became the
laugh of them, Keen the desire to see his home again, For stories — but I don't believe the He thought himself in duty bound to do so,
half of them. And not be always thieving on the main; Lonely he felt, at times, as Robin Crusoe,
XCIX And so he hired a vessel come from Spain, Whate'er his youth had suffer'd, his old age Bound for Corfu: she was a fine polacca, With wealth and talking make him some Mann'd with twelve hands, and laden with
| Though Laura sometimes put him in a rage, I've heard the Count and he were always
friends. Himself, and much (heaven knows how | My pen is at the bottom of a page, 789 gotten !) cash
Which being finish’d, here the story ends; He then embark'd with risk of life and | 'Tis to be wish'd it had been sooner done, limb,
But stories somehow lengthen when begun. And got clear off, although the attempt was
rash; He said that Providence protected him
DON JUAN For my part, I say nothing, lest we clash
[Publ. 1818 ff.]
CANTO III. LXXXVI
THE ISLES OF GREECE
XCVII They reach'd the island, he transferr'd his | The isles of Greece, the Isles of Greece! lading
Wbere burning Sappho loved and sung, And self and live-stock to another bot Where grew the arts of war and peace, 691 tom,
1 Where Delos rose, and Phæbus sprung!