Antonia's skill was put upon the rack,

But no device could be brought into play. And how to parry the renew'd attack?

Besides, it wanted but few hours of day: Antonia puzzled; Julia did not speak, But press'd her bloodless lip to Juan's cheek. CLXX.

He turn'd his lip to hers, and with his hand

Call'd back the tangles of her wandering hair; Even then their love they could not all command, And half forgot their danger and despair. Antonia's patience now was at a stand

Come, come, 'tis no time now for fooling there," She whisper'd, in great wrath; 'I must deposit This pretty gentleman within the closet.

CLXXI.

Pray keep your nonsense for some luckier nightWho can have put my master in this mood? What will become on't?-I'm in such a fright! The devil's in the urchin, and no goodIs this a time for giggling? this a plight?

Why, don't you know that it may end in blood? You'll lose your life, and I shall lose my place, My mistress, all, for that half-girlish face.

CLXXII.

Had it but been for a stout cavalier

Of twenty-five or thirty-(come, make haste)But for a child, what piece of work is here! I really, madam, wonder at your taste(Come, sir, get in)-my master must be near:

There for the present, at the least, he's fast, And if we can but till the morning keep Our counsel (Juan, mind, you must not sleep).'

CLXXIII.

Now Don Alfonso, entering, but alone,

Closed the oration of the trusty maid: She loiter'd, and he told her to be goneAn order somewhat sullenly obey'd; However, present remedy was none,

And no great good seem'd answer'd if she stay'd; Regarding both with slow and sidelong view, She snuff'd the candle, curtsied, and withdrew.

CLXXIV.

Alfonso paused a minute, then begun

Some strange excuses for his late proceeding: He would not justify what he had done;

To say the best, it was extreme ill-breeding; But there were ample reasons for it, none

Of which he specified in this his pleading: His speech was a fine sample, on the whole, Of rhetoric, which the learn'd call 'rigmarole.

CLXXV.

Julia said nought, though all the while there rose
A ready answer, which at once enables
A matron, who her husband's foible knows,
By a few timely words to turn the tables,
Which, if it does not silence, still must pose-

Even if it should comprise a pack of fab'es: 'Tis to retort with firmness, and when he Suspects with one, do you reproach with three.

There might be one more motive, which makes two,
Alfonso ne'er to Juan had alluded;
Mention'd his jealousy, but never who

Had been the happy lover, he concluded,
Conceal'd amongst his premises; 'tis true,
His mind the more o'er this its mystery brooded:
To speak of Inez now were, one may say,
Like throwing Juan in Alfonso's way
CLXXVIII.

A hint, in tender cases, is enough;

Silence is best; besides, there is a tact(That modern phrase appears to me sad stuff, But it will serve to keep my verse compact)Which keeps, when push'd by questions rather rough,

A lady always distant from the fact:
The charming creatures lie with such a grace,
There's nothing so becoming to the face.

CLXXIX.

They blush, and we believe them; at least I
Have always done so. 'Tis of no great use,
In any case attempting a reply.

For then their eloquence grows quite profuse;
And when at length they're out of breath, they sigh
And cast their languid eyes down, and let loose
A tear or two, and then we make it up;
And then-and then-and then-sit down and sup.

CLXXX.

Alfonso closed his speech, and begg'd her pardon.
Which Julia half withheld, and then half granted,
And laid conditions he thought very hard on,
Denying several little things he wanted:
He stood like Adam lingering near his garden,
With useless penitence perplex'd and haunted,
Beseeching she no further would refuse,
When, lo! he stumbled o'er a pair of shoes.

CLXXXI.

A pair of shoes!-what then? not much, if they Are such as fit with ladies' feet; but these (No one can tell how much I grieve to say)

Were masculine: to see them, and to seize, Was but a moment's act. Ah! well-a-day!

My teeth begin to chatter, my veins freeze-
Alfonso first examined well their fashion,
And then flew out into another passion.
CLXXXII.

He left the room for his relinquish'd sword,
And Julia instant to the closet flew.
'Fiy, Juan, fly! for heaven's sake-not a word-
The door is open-you may yet slip through
The passage you so often have explored-
Here is the garden-key. Flo-fy-Adicu!

Haste-haste! I hear Alfonso's hurrying feetDay has not broke-there's no one in the street."

CLXXXIII.

None can say that this was not good advice;
The only mischief was, it came too late:
Of all experience 'tis the usual price,

A sort of income-tax laid on by fate:

Juan had reach'd the room-door in a trice,
And might have done so by the garden-gate,
But met Alfonso in his dressing-gown,
Who threaten'd death-so Juan knock'd him down.

CLXXXIV.

Dire was the scuffle, and out went the light;
Antonia cried out Rape!' and Julia 'Fire!'
But not a servant stirr'd to aid the fight.
Alfonso, pommell'd to his heart's desire,
Swore lustily he'd be revenged this night:

And Juan, too, blasphemed an octave higher; His blood was up; though young, he was a Tartar, And not at all disposed to prove a martyr.

CLXXXV.

Alfonso's sword had dropp'd ere he could draw it,
And they continued battling hand to hand,
For Juan very luckily ne'er saw it;

His temper not being under great command,
If at that moment he had chanced to claw it,
Alfonso's days had not been in the land
Much longer. Think of husbands', lovers' lives!
And how ye may be doubly widows-wives!

CLXXXVI.

Alfonso grappled to detain the foe,

And Juan throttled him to get away,

And blood ('twas from the nose) began to flow;
At last, as they more faintly wrestling lay,
Juan contrived to give an awkward blow,
And then his only garment quite gave way:
He fled, like Joseph, leaving it; but there,
I doubt, all likeness ends between the pair.
CLXXXVII.

Lights came at length, and men, and maids, who found

An awkward spectacle their eyes before; Antonia in hysterics, Julia swoon'd,

Alfonso leaning breathless by the door;
Some half-torn drapery scatter'd on the ground,
Some blood and several footsteps, but no more:
Juan the gate gain'd, turn'd the key about,
And liking not the inside, lock'd the out.
CLXXXVIII.

Here ends this canto. Need I sing, or say,
How Juan, naked, favour'd by the night,
Who favours what she should not, found his way,
And reach'd his home in an unseemly plight?
The pleasant scandal which arose next day,

The nine days' wonder which was brought to And how Alfonso sued for a divorce, (light, Were in the English newspapers, of course.

CLXXXIX.

If you would like to see the whole proceedings.
The depositions and the cause at full,
The names of all the witnesses, the pleadings
Of counsel to nonsuit, or to annul,

There's more than one edition, and the readings Are various, but they none of them are dull: The best is that in shorthand, ta'en by Gurney, Who to Madrid on purpose made a journey.

CXC.

But Donna Inez, to divert the train

Of one of the most circulating scandals That had for centurics been known in Spain, At least since the retirement of the Vandals, First vow'd (and never had she vow'd in vain)

To Virgin Mary several pounds of candles;
And then, by the advice of some old ladies,
She sent her son to be shipp'd off from Cadiz.
CXCI.
She had resolved that he should travel through
All European climes, by land or sea,
To mend his former morals, and get new,
Especially in France and Italy,

(At least this is the thing most people do.)
Julia was sent into a convent: she
Grieved, but perhaps her feelings may be better
Shown in the following copy of her letter:-

CXCI

They tell me 'tis decided; you depart:
'Tis wise-tis well, but not the less a pain:
I have no further claim on your young heart,
Mine is the victim, and would be again.
To love too much has been the only art

I used; I write in haste, and if a stain
Be on this sheet, 'tis not what it appears:
My eyeballs burn and throb, but have no tears.
CXCIII

'I loved, I love you, for this love have lost State, station, heaven, mankind's, my own

esteem;

And yet cannot regret what it hath cost,

So dear is still the memory of that dream; Yet if I name my guilt, 'tis not to boastNone can deem harshlier of me than I deem: I trace this scrawl because I cannot restI've nothing to reproach, or to request.

CXCIV

Man's love is of man's life a thing apart; 'Tis woman's whole existence. Man may range The court, camp, church, the vessel, and the mart, Sword, gown, gain, glory, offer in exchange Pride, fame, ambition, to fill up his heart,

And few there are whom these cannot estrange: Men have all these resources, we but oneTo love again, and be again undone.

CXCV.

'You will proceed in pleasure, and in pride,
Beloved and loving many; all is o'er
For me on earth, except some years to hide

My shame and sorrow deep in my heart's core. These I could bear, but cannot cast aside

The passion which still rages as before: And so farewell-forgive me, love me-No; That word is idle now-but let it go.

CXCVI.

My breast has been all weakness, is so yet; But still I think I can collect my mind;

If, after all, there should be some so blind

To their own good, this warning to despise,
Led by some tortuosity of mind

Not to believe my verse and their own eyes,
And cry that they the moral cannot find
I tell him, if a clergyman, he lies;
Should captains the remark, or critics, make
They also lie, too-under a mistake.
CCIX.

The public approbation I expect,

And beg they'll take my word about the moral, Which I with their amusement will connect (So children cutting teeth receive a coral)⚫

I think that, with this holy new alliance,
I may ensure the public, and defy
All other magazines of art or science,

Daily, or monthly, or three-monthly; I
Have not essay'd to multiply their clients,

Because they tell me 'twere in vain to try, And that the Edinburgh Review and Quarterly Treat a dissenting author very martyrly. CCXII.

Non ego hoc ferrem calida juventa

Consule Planco,' Horace said, and so Say I; by which quotation there is meant a

Hint that, some six or seven good years ago (Long ere I dreamt of dating from the Brenta), I was most ready to return a blow, And would not brook at all this sort of thing In my hot youth-when George the Third was king.

CCXIII.

But now, at thirty years, my hair is grey(I wonder what it will be like at forty!

I thought of a peruke the other day)

My heart is not much greener; and, in short, I Have squander'd my whole summer while 'twas May,

And feel no more the spirit to retort: I Have spent my life, both interest and principal, And deem not, what I deem'd, my soul invincible.

CCXIV.

No more-no more--Oh! never more on me
The freshness of the heart can fall like dew,
Which out of all the lovely things we see
Extracts emotions beautiful and new,
Hived in our bosoms like the bag o' the bee:
Think'st thou the honey with those objects grew?
Alas! 'twas not in them, but in thy power
To double even the sweetness of a flower.

CCXV.

No more-no more-Oh! never more, my heart, Canst thou be my sole world, my universe; Once all in all, but now a thing apart,

Thou canst not be my blessing or my curse; The illusion's gone for ever, and thou art

Insensible, I trust, but none the worse; And in thy stead I've got a deal of judgment, Though Heaven knows how it ever found a lodg

incnt.

Is glittering youth, which I have spent betimcs— My heart in passion, and my head on rhymes.

CCXVIII.

What is the end of fame? 'tis but to fill
A certain portion of uncertain paper:
Some liken it to climbing up a hill,

Whose summit, like all hills, is lost in vapour: For this men write, speak, preach, and heroes kill, And bards burn what they call their 'midnight To have, when the original is dust, [taper,'

A name, a wretched picture, and worse bust.

CCXIX.

What are the hopes of man? Old Egypt's king
Cheops erected the first pyramid,
And largest, thinking it was just the thing

To keep his memory whole, and mummy hid; But somebody or other, rummaging,

Burglariously broke his coffin's lid:

Let not a monument give you or me hopes,
Since not a pinch of dust remains of Cheops.
CCXX.

But I, being fond of true philosophy,
Say very often to myself, Alas!

All things that have been born were born to die, And flesh (which Death mows down to hay) is grass;

You've pass'd your youth not so unpleasantly,

And if you had it o'er again-twould passSo thank your stars that matters are no worse, And read your Bible, sir, and mind your purse."

CCXXI.

But for the present, gentle reader! and

Still gentler purchaser! the bard-that's IMust, with permission, shake you by the hand, And so your humble servant, and good bye! We meet again if we should understa.d

Each other; and if not, I shall not try Your patience further than by this short sample'Twere well if others follow'd my example.

Me nec femina, nec puer Jam, nec spes animi credula mutui, Nec certare juvat mero? Nec vincire novis tempora floribus.

CCXXII.

Go, little buck, from this my solitude! I cast thec on the waters-go thy ways! And if, as I believe, thy vein be good,

The world will find thee after many days.'

I.

When Southey's read, and Wordsworth under stood,

I can't help putting in my claim to praiseThe four first rhymes are Southey's, every line; For God's sake, reader! take them not for mine.

O YE! who teach the ingenuous youth of nations. Holland, France, England, Germany, or Spain, I pray ye flog them upon all occasions,

It mends their morals; never mind the pain.
The best of mothers and of educations,

In Juan's case, were but employ'd in vain,
Since, in a way that's rather of the od lest, he
Became divested of his native modesty
II.

Had he been but placed at a public school,
In the third form, or even in the fourth,

His daily task had kept his fancy cool,

At least had he been nurtured in the north.
Spain may prove an exception to this rule,
But then exceptions always prove its worth-
A lad of sixteen causing a divorce.
Puzzled his tutors very much, of course.

III.

I can't say that it puzzles me at all,

If all things be consider'd. First there was His lady-mother, mathematical,

A never mind; his tutor, an old ass; A pretty woman-(that's quite natural,

Or else the thing had hardly come to pass); A husband rather old, not much in unity With his young wife-a time and opportunity.

IV.

Well-well, the world must turn upon its axis,
And all mankind turn with it, heads or tails,
And live, and die, make love, and pay our taxes,
And as the veering wind shifts, shift our sails.
The king commands us, and the doctor quacks us,
The priest instructs, and so our life exhales;
A little breath, love, wine, ambition, fame,
Fighting, devotion, dust-perhaps a name.

V.

I said, that Juan had been sent to Cadiz-
A pretty town, I recollect it well-
'Tis there the mart of the colonial trade is
(Or was, before Peru learn'd to rebel);
And such sweet girls-I mean such graceful ladies,
Their very walk would make your bosom swell:
I can't describe it, though so much it strike,
Nor liken it-I never saw the like.

VI.

An Arab horse, a stately stag, a barb

New broke, a camelopard, a gazelle, No-none of these will do; and then their garb! Their veil and petticoat-alas! to dwell Upon such things would very near absorb A canto: then their feet and ankles-well Thank Heaven I've got no metaphor quite ready (And so, my sober Muse-come let's be steady

1819.

VIL

Chaste Muse!-well, if you inust, you mast)-the

veil

Thrown back a moment with the glancing han f, While the o'erpowering eye, that turns you pale, Flashes into the heart:-All sunny land

Of love! when I forget you, may I fail

To say my prayers-but never was there plann'd

A dress through which the eyes give such a volley, Excepting the Venetian Fazzioli.

VIM.

But to our tale: the Donna Inez sent
Her son to Cadiz only to embark;
To stay there had not answer'd her intent:

But why?-we leave the reader in the dark-
'Twas for a voyage the young man was meant,
As if a Spanish ship were Noah's ark,
To wean him from the wickedness of earth,
And send him like a dove of promise forth.
IX.

Don Juan bade his valet pack his things
According to direction, then received

A lecture and some money: for four springs
He was to travel; and, though Inez grieved
(As every kind of parting has its stings),

She hoped he would improve-perhaps believed: A letter, too, she gave (he never read it), Of good advice, and two or three of credit. X.

In the meantime, to pass her hours away,

Brave Inez now set up a Sunday school
For naughty children, who would rather play
(Like truant rogues) the devil, or the fool;
Infants of three years old were taught that day,
Dunces were whipt, or set upon a stool:
The great success of Juan's education
Spurr'd her to teach another generation.
XI.

Juan embark'd, the ship got under way,
The wind was fair, the water passing rough;
A devil of a sea rolls in that bay,

As I, who've cross'd it oft, know well enough
And, standing upon deck, the dashing spray
Flies in one's face, and makes it weather-tough:
And there he stood to take, and take again,
His first-perhaps his last-farewell of Spain.

XII.

I can't but say t is an awkward sight

To see one's native land receding through The growing waters; it unmans one quite, Especially when life is rather new.

I recollect Great Britain's coast looks white, But almost every other country's blue,