Olimp. Spare thine already forfeit soul A perjury for which even hell would loathe thee. No, thou know'st me not; I am not Olimp. And do not know it. She will come to life- 1 judge thee by thy mates? Where I have pitch'd my banner. It is for God to judge thee as thou art. But not less pure (pure as it left me then, [Olimpia waves her hand to Arnold with disdain, Cas Arn. Softly! Cas. We will Come then! raise her up! As softly as they bear the dead, Nay, never fear! But, if you rue it after, blame not me. The spirit of her life I am employ'd in such; but you perceive Cæs. [assisting him to raise Olimpia.] She hath The beautiful half-clay, and nearly spirit! Cas. Ay, slave or master, 'tis all one: methinks I am almost enamour'd of her, as Of old the angels of her earliest sex. Cas. I! But fear not. I'll not be your rival. Cas. I could be one right formidable; But since I slew the seven husbands of I will try. A sprinkling Of gaining, or-what is more difficultOf that same holy water may be useful. Getting rid of your prize again; for there's [He brings some in his helmet from the font. The rub! at least to mortals. Arn. 'Tis mix'd with blood. Prithee, peace! Cas. There is no cleaner now Softly! methinks her lips move, her eyes open! Cas. Like stars, no doubt; for that's a metaphor For Lucifer and Venus. In Rome. Arn. How pale! how beautiful! how lifeless! On the wrist of the noble With birds from their nest. Cas. Oh shadow of glory! Dim image of war! But the chase hath no story, Of empire and chase, And quake for their race. When the lion was young, In the pride of his might, For a spear, 'gainst the Mammoth, At the foaming Behemoth; Chorus. But the wars are over, The spring is come; Have sought their home; They are happy, and we rejoice; Let their hearts have an echo from every voice! [Exeunt the Peasamry, singing Barnave, Brissot, Condorcet, Mirabeau, Petion, Clootz, Danton, Marat, La Fayette, Were French, and famous people, as we know; And there were others, scarce forgotten yet, Joubert, Hoche, Marceau, Lannes, Dessaix, Moreau, With many of the military set, Exceedingly remarkable at times. But not at all adapted to my rhymes. IV. Nelson was once Britannia's god of war, And still should be so, but the tide is turn'd: There's no more to be said of Trafalgar, 'Tis with our hero quietly in:rn'd; Because the army's grown more popular, At which the naval people are concern'd: Besides, the prince is all for the land service, Forgetting Duncan, Nelson, Howe, and Jervis. V Brave men were living before Agamemnon, And since, exceeding valorous and sage, 1819. A good deal like him too, though quite the same VI. Most epic poems plunge un medias res Beside his mistress in some soft abode. VII. That is the usual method, but not mine- Forbids all wandering as the worst of sinning. And therefore I shall open with a line (Although it cost me half an hour in spinning) Narrating somewhat of Don Juan's father, And also of his mother, if you'd rather. VIII In Seville was he born, a pleasant city, IX. His father's name was Jose-Don, of course, Or, being mounted, e'er got down again, His mother was a earned lady, famed For every branch of every science known In every Christian language ever name d, With virtues equall'd by her wit alone. She made the cleverest people quite ashamed; And even the good with inward envy groan, Finding themselves so very much exceeded In their own way, by all the ings that she did. XI. Her memory was a mine; she knew by heart So that if any actor miss'd his part, She could have served him for the prompter's copy; She knew the Latin-that is, 'the Lord's prayer,' And Greek-the alphabet-I'm nearly sure; She read some French romances here and there, Although her mode of speaking was not pure; For native Spanish she had no great care, At least her conversation was obscure; She liked the English and the Hebrew tongue, But I must leave the proofs to those who've In virtues nothing earthly could surpass her, Save thine incomparable oil,' Macassar!* XVIII. Perfect she was; but as perfection is Insipid in this naughty world of ours, Went plucking various fruit without her leave. He was a mortal of the careless kind, With no great love for learning or the learn'd, To see a kingdom or a house o'erturned, XX. Now Donna ez had, with all her merit, A great opinion of her own good qualities; Neglect, indeed, requires a saint to bear it, And such, indeed, she was in her moralities: But then she had a devil of a spirit, And sometimes mix'd up fancies with realities, And let few opportunities escape Of getting her liege lord into a scrape. XXI. This was an easy matter with a man Oft in the wrong, and never on his guard; And even the wisest, do the best they can, Have moments, hours, and days, so unprepar'd, That you might 'brain them with their lady's fan;' And sometimes ladies hit exceeding hard, And fans turn into falchions in fair hands, And why and wherefore no one understands. XXII. 'Tis pity learned virgins ever wed With persons of no sort of education, Or gentlemen who, though well-born and bred, I don't choose to say much upon this head, XXIII. Don Jose and his lady quarrell'd—why, I loathe that low vice curiosity; But if there's anything in which I shine, 'Tis in arranging all my friends' affairs, Not having, of my own, domestic cares. XXIV. And so I interfered, and with the best Intentions; but their treatment was not kind 'Description des vertus incomparables de Thuile Macassar,Sec the Advertisement. I think the foolish people were possess'd, XXV. A little curly-headed, good-for-nothing, And mischief-making monkey from his birth; His parents ne'er agreed except in doting Upon the most unquiet imp on earth: Instead of quarrelling, had they been both in Their senses, they'd have sent young master forth To school, or had him soundly whipped at home, To teach him manners for the time to come. XXVI. Don Jose and the Donna Inez led For some time an unhappy sort of life, Wishing each other, not divorced, but dead. They lived respectably as man and wife; Their conduct was exceedingly well-bred, And gave no outward signs of inward strife, Until at length the smother'd fire broke out, And put the business past all kind of doubt. XXVII. For Inez call'd some druggists and physicians, And tried to prove her loving lord was mad; But as he had some lucid intermissions, She next decided he was only bad; Yet when they ask'd her for her depositions, No sort of explanation could be had, Save that her duty both to man and God Required this conduct-which seem'd very odd. But ah! he died; and buried with him lay I asked the doctors after his decease- Yet Jose was an honourable man; That I must say, who knew him very well: Whate'er might be his worthlessness or worth, Where all his household gods lay shiver'd round him: No choice was left his feelings or his pride, XXXVII. Dying intestate, Juan was sole heir To a Chancery suit, and messuages, and lands, Which, with a long minority and care, Promised to turn out well in proper hands: Inez became sole guardian, which was fair, And answer'd but to nature's just demands; |