Nor wear as gracefully as Gauls her garb,
Nor in her eye Ausonia's glance is burning;
Her voice, though sweet, is not so fit to warb-
le those bravuras (which I still am learning
To like, though I have been seven years in Italy,

Had sate beneath the gallery at nights,
To hear debates whose thunder roused not (rouses,
The world to gaze upon those northern lights,4
Which flash'd as far as where the musk-bul,

browses:

He had also stood at times behind the throne

She cannot step as does an Arab barb,
Or Andalusian girl from mass returning,
Nor wear as gracefully as Gauls her garb,
Nor in her eye Ausonia's glance is burning;
Her voice, though sweet, is not so fit to warb-
le those bravuras (which I still am learning
To like, though I have been seven years in Italy,

LXXVI.

She cannot do these things, nor one or two
Others, in that off-hand and dashing style
Which takes so much-so give the devil his due;
Nor is she quite so ready with her smile,
Nor settles all things in one interview,

(A thing approved as saving time and toil,) But though the soil may give you time and trouble Well cultivated, it will render double.

LXXVII.

And if in fact she takes to a "grande passion,"
It is a very serious thing indeed;
Nine times in ten 'tis but caprice or fashion,
Coquetry, or a wish to take the lead,
The pride of a mere child with a new sash on,
Or wish to make a rival's bosom bleed;
But the tenth instance will be a tornado,
For there's no saying what they will or may do.
LXXVIII.

The reason's obvious: if there's an eclat,

They lose their caste at once, as do the Parias; And when the delicacies of the law [various, Have fill'd their papers with their comments Society, that china without flaw,

(The hypocrite!) will banish them like Marius, To sit amid the ruins of their guilt: For Fame's a Carthage not so soon rebuilt.

LXXIX.

Perhaps this is as it should be ;-it is

A comment on the Gospel's "Sin no more,
And be thy sins forgiven: "--but upon this
I leave the saints to settle their own score.
Abroad, though doubtless they do much amiss,
An erring woman finds an opener door
For her return to virtue-as they call
The lady who should be at home to all.
LXXX.

For me, I leave the matter where I find it,
Knowing that such uneasy virtue leads
People some ten times less in fact to mind it,
And care but for discoveries and not deeds.
And as for chastity, you'll never bind it

By all the laws the strictest lawyer pleads,
But aggravate the crime you have not prevented
By rendering desperate those who had else repented.

LXXXI.

But Juan was no casuist, nor had ponder'd
Upon the moral lessons of mankind:
Besides, he had not seen, of several hundred,
A lady altogether to his mind.

A little "blasé "-'tis not to be wonder'd
At, that his heart had got a tougher rind:
And though not vainer from his past success,
No doubt his sensibilities were less.

LXXXII.

He also had been busy seeing sights-
The parliament and all the other houses;
Had sate beneath the gallery at nights,

To hear debates whose thunder roused not (rouses) The world to gaze upon those northern lights,4 Which flash'd as far as where the musk-bul.

browses:

He had also stood at times behind the throne

LXXXIII.

He saw, however, at the closing session,
That noble sight, when really free the nation,
A king in constitutional possession

Of such a throne as is the proudest station,
Though despots know it not-till the progression
Of freedom shall complete their education.
"Tis not mere splendor makes the show august
To eye or heart-it is the people's trust.
LXXXIV.

There too he saw (whate'er he may be now)
A prince, the prince of princes, at the time,
With fascination in his very bow,

And full of promise, as the spring of prime.
Though royalty was written on his brow,

He had then the grace too, rare in every clime,
Of being, without alloy of fop or beau,
A finish'd gentleman from top to toe.
LXXXV.

And Juan was received, as hath been said,
Into the best society: and there
Occur'd what often happens, I'm afraid,
However disciplined and debonnaire :
The talent and good humor he display'd,

Besides the mark'd distinction of his air,
Exposed him, as was natural, to temptation,
Even though himself avoided the occasion.

LXXXVI.

But what, and where, with whom, and when, and
Is not to be put hastily together;
[why,
And as my object is morality,

(Whatever people say,) I don't know whether I'll leave a single reader's eyelid dry,

But harrow up his feelings till they wither, And hew out a huge monument of pathos, As Philip's son proposed to do with Athos.5 LXXXVII.

Here the twelfth canto of our introduction

Ends. When the body of the book's begun, You'll find it of a different construction

From what some people say 'twill be when done: The plan at present's simply in concoction. I can't oblige you, reader, to read on;

That's your affair, not mine: a real spirit

CANTO XIII.

I.

1 Now mean to be serious;-it is time,
Since laughter now-a-days is deem'd too serious.
A jest at vice by virtue's call'd a crime,
And critically held as deleterious:
Besides, the sad's a source of the sublime,
Although when long a little apt to weary us;
And therefore shall my lay soar high and solemn,
As an old temple dwindled to a column.

II.

The Lady Adeline Amundeville

('Tis an old Norman name, and to be found In pedigrees by those who wander still Along the last fields of that Gothic ground) Was high-born, wealthy by her father's will, And beauteous, even where beauties most abound, In Britain-which of course true patriots find The goodliest soil of body and of mind.

III.

I'll not gainsay them; it is not my cue:

I leave them to their taste, no doubt the best: An eye's an eye, and whether black or blue,

Is no great matter, so 'tis in request: 'Tis nonsense to dispute about a hue

The kindest may be taken as a test. The fair sex should be always fair; and no man Till thirty, should perceive there's a plain woman.

IV.

And after that serene and somewhat dull,

Epoch, that awkward corner turn'd for days More quiet, when our moon's no more at full, We may presume to criticise or praise; Because indifference begins to lull

Our passions, and we walk in wisdom's ways; Also because the figure and the face