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Meantime they'll doubtiess please to recollect
CCXVI. My epical pretensions to the laurel;
My days of love are over; me 110 more For fear soine prudish readers should grow The charms of maid, wife, and still less of skittish,
widow, I've bribed my grandmother's review-the British. Can make the fool of which they inade before :*
In short, I inust not lead the life I did do ;
The credulous hope of mutual minds is o er,
The copious use of claret is forbid, too : I'm for a handsome article his creditor;
So for a good old-gentlemanly vice,
I think I must take up with avarice.
Ambition was my idol, which was broken And smear his page with gall instead of honey,
Before the shrines of Sorrow and of Pleasure, All I can say is—that he had the money.
And the two last have left me many a token,
O'er whicli reflection may be made at leisure. I think that, with this holy new alliance,
Now, like Friar Bacon's brazen head, l've spoken,
• Time is, Time was, Time s past;-a chymic I may ensure the public, and defy All other magazines of art or science,
treasure Daily, or monthly, or three monthly; I
Is glittering youth, which I have spent betimesHave not essay'd to multiply their clients,
My heart in passion, and my head on rhymes. Because they tell me 'twere in vain to try,
A certain portion of uncertain paper :
Some liken it to climbing up a bill,
Whose summit, like all hills, is lost in vapour : Consule Planco,' Horace said, and so
For this men write, speak, preach, and heroes kiil, Say I ; by which quotation there is meant a
And barda burn what they call their midnight Hint that, some six or seven good years ago
To have, when the origiaal is dust, (taper,' (Long ere I dreamt of dating from the Brenta), A name, a wretched picture, and worse bust. I was most ready to return a blow,
CCXIX. And would not brook at all this sort of thing
What are the hopes of man? Old Egypt's king In my hot youth-when George the Third was
Cheops erected the first pyramid, king
And largest, thinking it was just the thing
To keep his memory whole, and muinny hid; But now, ac thirty years, my hair is grey
But somebody or other, rummaging, (I wonder what it will be like at forty!
Burglariously broke his coffin's lid : I thought of a peruke the other day)
Let not a monument give you or nie hopes, My heart is not much greener; and, in short, I
Since not a pinch of dust remains of Cheops. Have squander'd my whole suminer while 'twas May,
CCXX. And feel no more the spirit to retort : 1
But I, being fond of true philosophy, Have spent my life, both interest and principal, Say very often to myself, · Alas! And deem not, what I deemd, my soul invincible. All things that have been born were born to die,
And flesh (which Death nows down to liay) is CCXIV.
grass; No more--no more-Oh! never more on me
You've pass'd your youth not so unpleasantly, The freshness of the heart can fall like dew,
And if you had it o'er again-'twould passWhich out of all the lovely things we see
So thank your stars that matters are no worse, Extracts eirotions beautiful and new,
And read your Bible, sir, and mind your purse.' Hived in our bosoms like the bag o'the bee : Think'st thou the honey with those objects grew ?
CCXXI. Alas! 'twas not in them, but in thy power
But for the present, gentle reader ! and To double even the sweetness of a flower.
Still gentler purchaser! the bard-that's I
Must, with permission, shake you by the hand, CCXV.
And so your humble servant, ordgui bye! No more-no more-Oh! never more, my heart,
We meet again if we should understas! Canst thou be my sole world, my universe;
Each other; and if not, I shall not try Once all in all, but now a thing apart,
Your patience further than by this short samp!e-
Insensible, I trust, but none the worse;
. Me nec femina, nec puer
Jam, nec spes animi credula Though Heaven knows how it ever found a lodg.
Nec certare juvat mero? Mlient.
Nec vincire novis tempora floribus,
CCXXII. 'Go, little buck, from this my solitude!
I cast thee on the watcrs--yothy ways! And if, as I believe, thy vcin be good,
The world will find thee after many days.'
When Southey's read, and Wordswork under
CANTO THE SECOND.
VII. O YE! who teach the ingenuous youth of nations. Chaste Muse!well, if you inust, you masti-the Holland, France, England, Germany, or Spain,
veil I pray ye fog them upon all occasions,
Thrown back a moment with the glancing hand, It iends their morals; never inind the pair. Whuic the o'erpowering eye, that turns you pale, The best of mothers and of educations,
Flashes into the heart :--All sunny land In Juan's case, were but employ'd in vain,
of love! when I forget you, may I fail Since, in a way that's rather of the od lesi, hic
To---say my prayers-but never was there Became divested of his native modesty
A dress tlirough which the cyes give such a volley, Had he been but placed at a public school,
Excepting the Venetian lazzioli. In the third form, or even in the fourth,
VIHr. His daily task had kept his fancy cool,
But to our tale: the Donna Inez sent At least had hc been nurtured in the north.
Her son to Cadiz only to embark; Spain may prove an exception to this rulc,
To stay there had not answer'd her intent: But then exceptions always prove its worth
But why :-we leave the reader in the darkA lad of sixteen causing a divorce.
'Twas for a voyage the young man was meant, Puzzled his tutors very much, of course.
As if a Spanish ship were Noah's ark,
To wean liim from the wickedness of earth,
And send him like a dove of promise forth. If all things be consider'd. First there was
IX. His lady-mother, mathematical,
Don Juan bade his valet pack his things A-never mind; his tutor, an old ass;
According to direction, thea received A pretty woman-(that's quite natural,
A lecture and some money: for sour springs Or else the thing had hardly coine to pass);
He was to travel; and, though Inez griei ed A husband rather old, not much in unity
(As every kind of parting has its stings). With his young wife-a time and opportunity.
She hoped he would improve-perhaps believed: IV.
A letter, too, she gave (he never read it).
And as the veering wind shifts, shift our sails. Brave Inez now set up a Sunday school
(Like truant rogues) the clevil, or the fool; A little breatii, love, wine, ambition, fanc,
Infants of three years old were taught that day, Fighting, devotion, dust-perhaps a name.
Dunces were whipt, or set upon a stool:
success of Juan's eclucation I said, that Juan had been sent to Cadiz--
Spurr'd her to teach another generation. A pretty town, I recollect it well
XI. 'Tis there the mart of the colonial trade is
Juan embark'd, the ship got under way, (Or was, before Peru learn'd to rebel);
The wind was fair, the water passing rough ; And such sweet girls--I mean such graceful ladies, A devil of a sea rolls in that bay,
Their very walk would make your bosom swell : As I, who've cross'd it oft, know well enough I can't describe it, though so much it strike, And, standing upon deck, the dashing spray Nor liken it I never saw the like.
Flies in one's face, and makes it weather-tough: VI.
And there he stood to take, and take again, An Arab horse, a stately stag, a barb
His first-perhaps his last-farewell of Spain
To see one's native land receding through
The growing waters; it unmans one quite, A canto: then their feet and ankles-Well
Especially when lise is rather new. Thank Heaven I've got no metaphor quite ready I recollect Great Britain's coast looks white, (And so, my sober Muse--come let's be steady
But alınost every other country's blue,
When, gazing on thci!, mystified by distance, Than i resign thine image, oh, my fair !
Or think of anything excepting thee;
A mind diseased no remedy can physic
(Here the ship gave a lurch, and he grew seasick.) The wind sung, cordage strain'd, and sailors
XX. And the ship creak'd, the town became a speck, *Sooner shall heaven kiss earth (herche fell sicker;--From which a way so fair and fast they bore.
Oh, Julia ! what is every other woe? The best of remedies is a beefsteak
(For God's sake, let me have a glass of liquor; Against sea-sickness: try it, sir, before
Pedro, Battista, help me down below) You sneer, and i assure you this is true,
Julia, my love ! (you rascal, Pedro, quicker)For I have found it answer-so may you.
Oh, Julia !-this curst vessel pitches 50
Beloved Julia, hear me still beseeching!
(Here lie grew inarticulate with retching )
XXI. Tirst partings form a lesson hard to learn,
He felt that chilling heaviness of iieart, Even nations feel this when they go to war;
Or rather stomachi, which, alas! attends, There is a sort of unexprest concern,
Beyond the best apothecary's art, A kind of shock that sets one's heart ajar:
The loss of love, the treachery of friends, At leaving even the most unpleasant people
Or death of those we dote on, when a part And places, one keeps looking at the steeple.
Of us dies with them, as each fond hope ends:
No doubt he would have been much more pathetic, XV. But Juan had got many things to leave,
But the sea acted as a strong emetic. His mother, and a mistress, and no wife,
XXII. So that he had much better cause to grieve Love's a capricious power: I've known it look Than many persons more advanced in life;
Out through a sever caused by its own heat, And if we now and then a sigh must heave
But be much puzzled by a cough and cold, At quitting even those we quit in strife,
And find a quinsy very hard to treat :
But vulgar illnesses don't like to meet,
Nor that a sneeze should interrupt his sigli,
Nor infianimations redden his blind eye.
Dat worst of all is nausea, or a pain
Love, who heroically breathes a vein,
And purgatives are dangerous to his reign, Behind their carriages their new portmantenti, Sea-sickness, death: his love was perfect, low Perhaps it may be lined with this my canto.
Could Juan's passion, while the billows roar,
Resist his stomach, ne'er at sea before?
You must excuse this extract-'tis where she, Was steering duly for the port Legiorn, The queen of Denmark, for Ophelia brought For there the Spanish family Moncada
Flowers to the grave); and, sobbing often, he Were settled long ere Juan's sire was born: Reflected on his present situation,
They were relations, and for them he had a
Letter of introduction, which the morn
Of his departure had been sent him by • Farewell, my Spain! a long farewell l'he cricd;
II's Spanish friends for those in Italy. • Perhaps I may revisit thee no more,
XXV. But die, as many an exiled heart hath died,
His suite consisted of three servants and Of its own thirst to see again thy shore :
A tutor, the licentiate Pedrillo, Farewell, where Guadalquivir's waters glide! Who several languages did understand, Farewell, my mother! and since all is o'er,
Dut now lay sick and speechless on his pillow Farewell, too, dearest Julia !' (here he drew
11.1, rocking in his hammock, long'd for land, iler letter out again, and read it through.)
llis headache being increased by every billow: XIX.
And the waves oozing through the port-hole made . And oh ! if c'er I should forget, I swear
Ilis berth a little damp, and him afraid. But that's impossible, and cannot be ;
XXVI. Sooner shall this blue ocean melt to air,
'Twas not without some reason, for the wind Sooner shall earth resolve itself to sea,
Increased at night, until it blew a gale ;
And though twas not much to a naval nini,
Was going on, some people were unquiet
That passengers would find it much amiss For the sky show'd it would came on to blow,
To lose their lives as well as spoil their diet And carry away, perhaps, a mast or so.
That even the able seaman, deeming his
Days nearly o'er, might be disposed to riot, At one o'clock, the wind with sudden shift
As upon such occasions tars will ask Threw the ship right into the trough of the sea,
For grog, and sometimes drink rum from the cask. Which struck her aft, and made an awkward rift,
XXXIV. Started the stern-post, also shatter'd the
There's nought, no doubt, so much the spirit calms Whole of her stern frame, and, ere she could lift As rum and true religion: thus it was, (psalms; Herself from out her present jeopardy,
Some plundered, some drank spirits, some sung The rudder tore away: 'twas time to sound
The high wind made the treble, and as bass The pumps, and there were four feet water found. The hoarse harsh waves kept time; fright curedi XXVIII.
the qualms One gang of people instantly was put
Of all the luckless landsmen's sea-sick maws: Upon the pumps, and the remaining set
Strange sounds of wailing, blasphemy, devotion, To get up part of the cargo, and what not;
Clamourd in chorus to the roaring ocean. But they could not come at the leak as yet.
XXXV. At last they did get at it really, but
Perhaps more mischief had been done, but for Still their salvation was an even bet:
Our Juan, who, with sense beyond his years,
As if Death were more dreadful by his door
Of fire than water, spite of oaths and tears, Into the opening; but all such ingredients
Kept still aloof the crew, who, ere they sunk, Would have been vain, and they must have gone Thought it would be becoming to die drunk, down,
XXXVI. Despite of all their efforts and expedients,
Give us inore grog,' they cried, 'for it will be But for the pumps: I'm glad to make them known
All one an hour hence.' Juan answer'd, No! To all the brother tars who may have need hence,
'Tis true that death awaits both you and me, For fifty tons of water were upthrown
But let us die like men, not sink below By them per hour, and they all had been undone,
Like brutes ;--and thus his dangerous post kept he, But for the maker, Mr. Mann, of London.
And none liked to anticipate the blow;
And even Pedrillo, his most reverend tutor,
XXXVII. And keep the ship afloat, though three feet yet
The good old gentleman was quite aghast, Kept two hand and one chain pump still in use. And made a loud and pious lamentation; The wind blew fresh again : as it grew late
Repented all his sins, and made a last A squall came on, and while some guns broke Irrevocable vow of reformation: loose,
Nothing should tempt him more (this peril past) A gust---which all descriptive power transcends- To quit his academic occupation, Laid with one blast the ship on her beam-ends. In cloisters of the classic Salamanca, XXXI.
To follow Juan's wake, like Sancho Panca. There she lay, inotionless, and seem'd upset ;
XXXVIII. The water left the hold, and wash'd the decks, But now there came a flash of hope once more ; And made a scene men do not soon forget;
Day broke, and the wind lull'd: the masts were For they remember battles, fires, and wrecks,
gone, Or any other thing that brings regret, (necks: The leak increas'd; shoals round her, but no shore,
Or breaks their hopes, or hearts, or heads, or The vessel swam, yet still she held her own. Thus drownings are much talk'd of by the divers, They tried the pumps again, and though before And swimmers, who may chance to be survivors. Their desperate efforts seem'd all useless grown, XXXII.
A glimpse of sunshine set some hands to baleImmediately the masts were cut away,
The stronger pump'd, the weaker thrummd a sai. Both inain and mizen: first the mizen went,
And for the moment it had some effect;
Nor rag of canvas, what could they expect! To part with all till every hope was blighted), But still 'tis best to struggle to the last, And then with violence the old ship righted,
'Tis never too late to be wholly wrecka:
And though 'tis true that man can only die once,
XLVI. 'Tis not so pleasant in the Gulf of Lyons.
The worst of all was, that in their condition,
Having been several days in great distress, XL
'Twas difficult to get out such provision There winds and waves liad hurl'd them, and froin As now might render their long suffering less : thence,
Men, even when dying, dislike inanition, Without their will, they carried them away:
Their stock was damaged by the weather's stress : For they were forced with steering to dispense, Two casks of biscuit, and a keg of butter, And never had as yet a quiet day
Were all that could be thrown into the cutter. On which they might repose, or even commence
But in the long boat they contrived to stow
Some pounds of bread, though injured by the wet;
Water, a twenty-gailon cask or so;
Six flasks of wine; and they contrived to get The wind, in fact, perhaps was rather less,
A portion of their beef up from below,
And with a piece of pork inoreover, met, But the ship labour'd so, they scarce could hope
But scarce enough to serve them for a luncheonTo weather out much longer; the distress
Then there was rum, eight gallons in a puncheon. Was also great with which they had to cope For want of water, and their solid mess
XLVIII. Was scant enough ; in vain the telescope
The other boats, the yawl and pinnace, had Was used-nor sail nor shore appeared in sight, Been stove, in the beginning of the gale ; Nought but the heavy sea and coming night.
And the long-boat's condition was but bad,
As there were but two blankets for a sail,
And one oar for a mast, which a young lad
Threw in by good luck over the ship's rail ; A gale, and in the fore and after hold
And two boats could not hold, far less be stored, Water appear'd; yet, though the people knew To save one half the people ther. on board.
All this, the most were patient, and some bold, Until the chains and leathers were worn through
XLIX. Of all our pumps ;-a wreck complete she roila 'Twas twilight, and the sunless day went down At mercy of the waves, whose mercies are
Over the waste of waters; like a veil Like human beings during civil war.
Which, if withdrawn, would but disclose the frown
Of one whose hate is mask'd but to assail
Thus to their hopeless eyes the night was shown, Then came the carpenter, at last, with tears
And grimly darkled o'er their faces pale, In his rough eyes, and told the captain he
And the clim desolate deep : twelve days had Fear Could do no more: he was a man in years,
Been their familiar, and now Death was here. And long had voyaged through many a stormy
Some trial had been making at a raft, And if he wept at length, they were not fears
With little hope in such a rolling sea-That made his eyelids as a woman's be,
A sort of thing at which one would have laugh'd, But he, poor fellow, had a wife and children,
If any laughter at such times could be, Two things for dying people quite bewild'ring.
Unless with people who too much have quafred, XLIV.
And have a kind of wild and horrid glee, The ship was evidently settling now
Half epileptical and half hysterical : Fast by the head; and, all distinction gone,
Their preservation would have been a miracle. Some went to prayers again, and made a vow
LI. Of candles to their saints-but there were none
At half.past eight o'clock, booms, hencoops, spars, To pay them with; and some look'd o'er the bow;
And all things, for a chance, had been cast loose. Some hoisted out the boats; and there was one
That still could keep afloat the struggling tars, That begg'd Pedrillo for an absolution,
For yet they strove, although of no great use: Who told him to be damn'd-in his confusion.
There was no light in heaven but a few stars;
The boats put off, o'ercrowded with their crews; Some lash'd them in their hammocks: some put on
She gave a heel, and then a lurch to port, Their best clothes, as if going to a fair;
Aod, going down lead foremost-sunk, in short Some cursed the day on which they saw the sun,
LII. And gnash'd their teeth, and, howling, tore their Then rose from sea to sky the wild farewellhair;
Then shriek'd the timid and stood still the brave And others went on as they had begun,
Then some leap'd overboard with dreadful yell, Getting the boats out, being well aware
As cager to anticipate their grave; That a tight boat will live in a rough sea,
And the sea yawnd around her like a hell, Unless with breakers close beneath her lee.
And down she suck'd with her the whirling wave,