LII. Here I must leave him, for I grow pathetic, Moved by the Chinese nymph of tears, green tea ! Than whom Cassandra was not more prophetic; For if my pure libations exceed three, I feel my heart become so sympathetic, That I must have recourse to black Bohea : 'Tis pity wine should be so deleterious, For tea and coffee leave us much more serious, LIII. Unless when qualified with thee, Cogniac! (In each sense of the word), whene'er I fill My mild and midnight beakers to the brim, Wakes me next morning with its synonym. H LIV. I leave Don Juan for the present, safe— Not sound, poor fellow, but severely wounded; Of those with which his Haidée's bosom bounded! Where all is Eden, or a wilderness. LV.. There the large olive rains its amber store In marble fonts; there grain, and flower, and fruit, Gush from the earth until the land runs o'er ; But there too many a poison-tree has root, And midnight listens to the lion's roar, And long, long deserts scorch the camel's foot, Or heaving whelm the helpless caravan, And as the soil is, so the heart of man. 1 LVI. Afric is all the sun's, and as her earth Her human clay is kindled; full of power For good or evil, burning from its birth, The Moorish blood partakes the planet's hour, And like the soil beneath it will bring forth: Beauty and love were Haidée's mother's dower; But her large dark eye show'd deep Passion's force, Though sleeping like a lion near a source. LVII. Her daughter, temper'd with a milder ray, But overwrought with passion and despair, LVIII. The last sight which she saw was Juan's gore, His blood was running on the very floor Where late he trod, her beautiful, her own; LIX. A vein had burst, and her sweet lips' pure dyes (2) O'ercharged with rain: her summon'd handmaids bore Their lady to her couch with gushing eyes; Of herbs and cordials they produced their store, LX. Days lay she in that state unchanged, though chill All hope; to look upon her sweet face bred LXI. The ruling passion, such as marble shows And ever-dying Gladiator's air, Their energy like life forms all their fame, Yet looks not life, for they are still the same. |