A thing of much less import in that climeAt least to those of incomes which afford The filling up their whole connubial cargoThan where two wives are under an embargo. XCI. He did not think much on the matter, nor At hand, as one may like to have a fan, Had made him lately bask in his bride's beauty. XCII. And now he rose ; and, after due ablutions He drank six cups of coffee at the least, But oh, thou grand legitimate Alexander, Her son's son, let not this last phrase offend Thine ear, if it should reach-and now rhymes wander Almost as far as Petersburg, and lend A dreadful impulse to each loud meander Of murmuring Liberty's wide waves, which blend Their roar even with the Baltic's-so you be XCIV. To call men love-begotten, or proclaim XCV. Had Catharine and the Sultan understood There was a way to end their strife, although XCVI. But, as it was, his Highness had to hold Of all the pillars of the state, which leans XCVII. Meantime Gulbeyaz, when her king was gone, Retired into her boudoir a sweet place For love or breakfast; private, pleasing, lone, Mother-of-pearl, and porphyry, and marble, And singing birds without were heard to warble; The true effect, and so we had better not XCIX. And here she summon'd Baba, and required C. Baba, with some embarrassment, replied To this long catechism of questions ask'd More easily than answer'd-that he had tried His best to obey in what he had been task'd: But there seem'd something that he wish'd to hide Which hesitation more betray'd than mask'd: He scratch'd his ear, the infallible resource To which embarrass'd people have recourse. CI. Gulbeyaz was no model of true patience, Nor much disposed to wait in word or deed: She liked quick answers in all conversations; And when she saw him stumbling like a steed In his replies, she puzzled him for fresh ones: And as his speech grew still more broken-kneed. When Baba saw these symptoms, which he knew CIII. The chief dame of the Oda, upon whom (The aforesaid Baba) just then to do more, He hoped, indeed he thought, he could be sure, Juan had not betray'd himself; in fact, 'Twas certain that his conduct had been pure, CV. This he discreetly kept in the background, And talk'd away-and might have talk'd till now, For any further answer that he found, So deep an anguish wrung Gulbeyaz' brow. Her cheeks turn'd ashes, ears rung, brain whirl'd As if she had received a sudden blow; [round, And the heart's dew of pain sprang fast and chilly O'er her fair front, like morning's on a lily CVI. Although she was not of the fainting sort, Baba thought she would faint; but there he err'dIt was but a convulsion, which, though short, Can never be described: we all have heard, And some of us have felt, thus, 'all amort,' When things beyond the common have occurr'd. Gulbeyaz proved, in that brief agony, What she could ne'er express-then how should I? CVII. She stood a moment as a Pythoness Stands on her tripod, agonized, and full Of inspiration gather'd from distress, When all the heart-strings, like wild horses, pull The heart asunder; then, as more or less Their speed abated or their strength grew dull, She sunk down on her seat by slow degrees, And bow'd her throbbing head o'er trembling knees. CVIII. Her face declined, and was unseen; her hair Stirr'd up and down her bosom like a billow, Which rushes to some shore whose shingles check Its farther course, but must receive its wreck. CIX. Her head hung down, and her long hair in stooping Oh that my words were colours! but their tints CX. Baba, who knew by experience when to talk And when to hold his tongue, now held it till This passion might blow o'er, nor dared to balk Gulbeyaz' taciturn or speaking will. At length she rose up, and began to walk Slowly along the room, but silent still, And her brow clear'd, but not her troubled eye: The wind was down, but still the sea ran high, CXI. She stopp'd, and raised her head to speak-but paused, And then moved on again with rapid pace; Then slacken'd it, which is the march most caused By deep emotion: you may sometimes trace A feeling in each footstep, as disclosed By Sallust in his Catiline, who, chased By all the demons of all passions, show'd Their work even by the way in which he trode. CXII. Gulbeyaz stopp'd, and beckon'd Baba: 'Slave! CXIII. 'The Georgian and her paramour, replied The imperial bride; and added, Let the boat Be ready by the secret portal's side. You know the rest.' The words stuck in her throat, Despite her injured love and fiery pride; And of this Baba willingly took note, To hear is to obey,' he said; 'but still, Your orders, even in their severest sense; But such precipitation may end ill, Even at your own imperative expense: I do not mean destruction and exposure, CXV. 'But your own feelings. Even should all the rest Be hidden by the rolling waves, which hide Already many a once love-beaten breast Deep in the caverns of the deadly tideYou love this boyish, new, scraglio guest, And if this violent remedy be triedExcuse my freedom, when I here assure you That killing him is not the way to cure you.' CXVI. 'What dost thou know of love or feeling?-Wretch! Begone!' she cried, with kindling eyes, 'and do My bidding! Baba vanish'd, for to stretch His own remonstrance further, he well knew Might end in acting as his own 'Jack Ketch;' And though he wish'd extremely to get through This awkward business without harm to others, He still preferr'd his own neck to another's. CXVII. Away he went then upon his commission, Growling and grumbling in good Turkish phrase, Against all women of whate'er condition, Especially sultanas and their ways; Their obstinacy, pride, and indecision, Their never knowing their own mind two days, The trouble that they gave, their immorality, Which made him daily bless his own neutrality CXVIII. And then he call'd his brethren to his aid, And above all be comb'd even to a hair, And here I leave them at their preparation 1. Gulbeyaz show'd them both commiseration, I leave them for the present with good wishes, Although his situation now seems strange, And scarce secure, as such digressions are fair, The muse will take a little touch at warfare, CANTO THE SEVENTH. 1823. Ó LOVE: O Glory! what are ye who fly Of such transcendent and more fleeting flight. II. And such as they are, such my present tale is, A nondescript and ever-varying rhyme, A versified Aurora Borealis, Which flashes o'er a waste and icy clime. When we know what all are, we must bewail us, But ne'ertheless I hope it is no crime To laugh at all things-for I wish to know What, after all, are all things-but a show? III. They accuse me-Me-the present writer of At human power and virtue, and all that: Good God! I wonder what they would be at! I say no more than hath been said in Dante's Verse, and by Solomon and by Cervantes. IV. By Swift, by Machiavel, by Rochefoucault, V. Socrates said, our only knowledge was To know that nothing could be known;' a pleasant Science enough, which levels to an ass Each man of wisdom, future, past, or present. Newton (that proverb of the mind), alas, VI. Ecclesiastes said that 'all is vanity' Most modern preachers say the same, or show it By their examples of true Christianity: In short, all know, or very soon may know it; And in this scene of all-confess'd inanity, By saint, by sage, by preacher, and by poet, Must I restrain me, through the fear of strife, From holding up the nothingness of life? VII. Dogs, or men!--for I flatter you in saying To show ye what ye are in every way. Of wolves, will the bright muse withdraw one ray From out her skies-then howl your idle wrath, While she still silvers o'er your gloomy path. VIII. Fierce loves and faithless wars--I am not sure If this be the right reading-'tis no matter; The fact's about the same, I am secure : I sing them both, and am about to batter A town which did a famous siege endure, And was beleaguer'd, both by land and water, By Souvaroff, or Anglicè Suwarrow, Who loved blood as an alderman loves marrow. IX. The fortress is call'd Ismail, and is placed Upon the Danube's left branch and left bank, With buildings in the Oriental taste, But still a fortress of the foremost rank, Or was at least, unless 'tis since defaced, Which with your conquerors is a common prank: It stands some eighty versts from the high sea, And measures round of toises thousands three. X. Within the extent of this fortification A borough is comprised, aiong the height Upon the left, which from its loftier station Commands the city, and upon its site A Greek had raised around this elevation A quantity of palisades upright, So placed as to impede the fire of those Who held the place, and to assist the foe's. XI. This circumstance may serve to give a notion But a stone bastion, with a narrow gorge, Of Danube's bank took formidable charge; Rose over the town's right side, in bristling tier, XIII. But from the river the town's open quite, Because the Turks could never be persuaded But as the Danube could not well be waded, XIV. The Russians now were ready to attack, Achilles' self was not more grim and gory Still I'll record a few, if but to increase Our euphony: there was Strongenoff, and Strokonoff, Meknop, Serge Lwdw, Arseniew of modern Greece, And Tschitsshakoff, and Roguenoff, and Chokenoff, And others of twelve consonants apiece; And more might be found out, if I could poke enough Into gazettes; but Fame (capricious strumpet), XVI. And cannot tune those discords of narration, Which may be names at Moscow, into rhyme: Yet there were several worth commemoration, As e'er was virgin of a nuptial chime, Soft words, too, fitted for the peroration Of Londonderry, drawling against time, Ending in 'ischskin,' 'ousckin,' 'iffskchy,' 'ouski.' Of whom we can insert but Rousamouski, XVII. Scherematoff, and Chrematoff, Koklophti, Koclobski, Kourakin, and Mouskin Pouskin, All proper men of weapons, as e'er scoff'd high Against a foe, or ran a sabre through skin: Little cared they for Mahomet or Mufti, Unless to make their kettle-drums a new skin Out of their hides, if parchment had grown dear, And no more handy substitute been near. XVIII. Then there were foreigners, of much renown, A pleasant thing to young men at their years. Jack Thomson and Bill Thomson;-all the rest XX. The rest were Jacks, and Gills, and Wills, and Bills; But when I've added that the elder Jack Smith Was born in Cumberland, among the hills, And that his father was an honest blacksmith, I've said all I know of a name that fills Three lines of the despatch in taking Schmack. smith,' A village of Moldavia's waste, wherein XXI. I wonder (although Mars no doubt's a god I I think one Shakspeare puts the same thought in The mouth of some one in his plays so doting. Which many people pass for wits by quoting. XXII. Then there were Frenchmen, gallant, young, and such truths are treason; they betray Their country; and as traitors are abhorr'd, Who name the French in English, save to show How peace should make John Bull the French inan's foe. XXIII. The Russians, having built two batteries on An isle near Ismail, had two ends in view: The first was to bombard it, and knock down The public buildings, and the private too, No matter what poor souls might be undone. The city's shape suggested this, 'tis true: Form'd like an amphitheatre, each dwelling Presented a fine mark to throw a shell in. XXIV. The second object was to profit by The moment of the general consternation, To attack the Turk's flotilla, which lay nigh, Extremely tranquil, anchor'd at its station: But a third motive was as probably To frighten them into capitulation; A phantasy which sometimes seizes warriors, Unless they are game as bull-dogs and foxterriers. XXV. A habit rather blameable, which is That of despising those we combat with, Common in many cases, was in this The cause of killing Tchitchitzkoff and Smith; One of the valorous Smiths' whom we shall miss Out of those nineteen who late rhymed to 'pith;' But 'tis a name so spread o'er 'Sir' and 'Madam,' That one would think the first who bore it 'Adam. XXVI. The Russian batteries were incomplete. Because they were constructed in a hurry; Thus the same cause which makes a verse want feet, [Murray, And throws a cloud o'er Longman and John When the sale of new books is not so fleet As they who print them think is necessary, May likewise put off, for a time, what story Sometimes calls 'murder,' and at others' glory.' XXVII. Whether it was their engineers' stupidity, Their haste or waste, I neither know nor care, Or some contractor's personal cupidity, Saving his soul by cheating in the ware Of homicide; but there was no solidity In the new batteries erected there: They either miss'd, or they were never miss'd, And added greatly to the missing list. XXVIII. A sad miscalculation about distance Made all their naval matters incorrect; Three fireships lost their amiable existence Before they reached a spot to take effect: The match was lit too soon, and no assistance Could remedy this lubberly defect:' They blew up in the middle of the river, [ever. While, though 'twas dawn, the Turks slept fast as XXIX. At seven they rose, however, and surveyed Off Ismail, and commenced a cannonade, For six hours bore they, without intermission, At length they found mere cannonade alone One bark blew up; a second, near the works XXXI. The Moslem, too, had lost both ships and men; But here the effect fell short of their desire: Count Damas drove them back into the water Pell-mell, and with a whole gazette of slaughter. XXXII. 'If' (says the historian here) 'I could report I think that several volumes would fall short, To some distinguish'd strangers in that fray; The Prince de Ligne, and Langeron, and Damas, Names great as any that the roll of Fame has. XXXIII. This being the case, may show us what fame is. For out of these three 'preux chevaliers,' how Many of common readers give a guess That such existed? (and they may live now, For aught we know.) Renown's all hit or miss; There's fortune even in fame, we must allow. 'Tis true, the memoirs of the Prince de Ligne Have half withdrawn from him oblivion's screen. XXXIV. But here are men who fought in gallant actions, As gallantly as ever heroes fought; But buried in the heap of such transactions, Their names are rarely found, nor often sought. Thus even good fame may suffer sad contractions, And is extinguish'd sooner than she ought: Of all our modern battles, I will bet You can't repeat nine names from each Gazette. XXXV. In short, this last attack, though rich in glory, Show'd that somewhere, somehow, there was a fault; And Admiral Ribas (known in Russian story) I doubt few readers e'er would mount the breach. There was a man-if that he was a man, Not that his manhood could be call'd in question, |