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
Indeed on any other: as a man,
He liked to have a handsome paramour

At hand, as one may like to have a fan,
And therefore of Circassians had good store,
As an amusement after the Divan;
Though an unusual fit of love or duty,

Had made him lately bask in his bride's beauty.

XCII.

And now he rose ; and, after due ablutions
Exacted by the customs of the East,
And prayers and other pious evolutions,

He drank six cups of coffee at the least,
And then withdrew to hear about the Russians,
Whose victories had recently increased
In Catharine's reign, whom glory still adores
As greatest of all sovereigns and w—s.
XCIII.

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
Your father's son, 'tis quite enough for me.

XCIV.

To call men love-begotten, or proclaim
Their mothers as the antipodes of Timon,
That hater of mankind, would be a shame,
A libel, or whate'er you please to rhyme on;
But people's ancestors are history's game,
And if one lady's slip could leave a crime on
All generations, I should like to know
What pedigree the best would have to show?

XCV.

Had Catharine and the Sultan understood
Their own true interest, which kings rarely know
Until 'tis taught by lessons rather rude,

There was a way to end their strife, although
Perhaps precarious, had they but thought good,
Without the aid of prince or plenipo:
She to dismiss her guards, and he his harem,
And for their other matters meet and share 'em.

XCVI.

But, as it was, his Highness had to hold
His daily council upon ways and means,
How to encounter with this martial scold,
This modern Amazon and queen of queans;
And the perplexity could not be told

Of all the pillars of the state, which leans
Sometimes a little heavy on the backs
Of those who cannot lay on a new tax

XCVII.

Meantime Gulbeyaz, when her king was gone, Retired into her boudoir a sweet place

For love or breakfast; private, pleasing, lone,
And rich with all contrivances which grace
Those gay recesses: many a precious stone
Sparkled along its roof, and many a vase
Of porcelain held in the fetter'd flowers,
Those captive soothers of a captive's hours.
XCVIII.

Mother-of-pearl, and porphyry, and marble,
Vied with each other in this costly spot;

And singing birds without were heard to warble;
And the stain'd glass which lighted this fair grot
Varied each ray; but all descriptions garble

The true effect, and so we had better not
Be too minute: an outline is the best-
A lively reader's fancy does the rest.

XCIX.

And here she summon'd Baba, and required
Don Juan at his hands, and information
Of what had pass'd since all the slaves retired,
And whether he had occupied their station;
If matters had been managed as desired,
And his disguise with due consideration
Kept up; and above all, the where and how
He had pass'd the night, was what she wish'd to know

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.
Her cheek began to flush, her eyes to sparkle,
And her proud brow's blue veins to swell and darkle
CII.

When Baba saw these symptoms, which he knew
To bode him no great good, he deprecated
Her anger, and beseech'd she'd hear him through-
He could not help the thing which he related:
Then out it came, at length, that to Dudù
Juan was given in charge, as hath been stated;
But not by Baba's fault, he said, and swore on
The holy camel's hump, besides the Koran.

CIII.

The chief dame of the Oda, upon whom
The discipline of the whole harem bore,
As soon as they re-enter'd their own room--
For Baba's function stopt short at the door-
Had settled all; nor could he then presume

(The aforesaid Baba) just then to do more,
Without exciting such suspicion as
Might make the matter still worse than it was.
CIV.

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,
Because a foolish or imprudent act
Would not alone have made him insecure,
But ended in his being found out and sack'd,
And thrown into the sea.-Thus Baba spoke
Of all save Dudu's dream, which was no joke.

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
Fell in long tresses like the weeping willow,
Sweeping the marble underneath her chair,
Or rather sofa (for it was all pillow,
A low, soft ottoman), and black despair

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
Conceal'd her features better than a veil;
And one hand o'er the ottoman lay drooping,
White, waxen, and as alabaster pale:
Would that I were a painter, to be grouping
All that a poet drags into detail!

Oh that my words were colours! but their tints
May serve perhaps as outlines or slight hints.

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!
Bring the two slaves!' she said in a low tone,
But one which Baba did not like to brave;
And yet he shudder'd, and seem'd rather prone
To prove reluctant, and begg'd leave to crave
(Though he well knew the meaning) to be shown
What slaves her Highness wish'd to indicate,
For fear of any error, like the late.

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,
And begg'd, by every hair of Mahomet's beard.
She would revoke the order he had heard.
CXIV.

To hear is to obey,' he said; 'but still,
Sultana, think upon the consequence:
It is not that I shall not all fulfil

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,
In case of any premature disclosure;

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 sent one on a summons to the pair,
That they must instantly be well array'd,

And above all be comb'd even to a hair,
And brought before the Empress, who had made
Inquiries after them with kindest care;
At which Dudù look'd strange, and Juan silly,
But they must go at once, and will I-nill I.
CXIX.

And here I leave them at their preparation
For the imperial presence, wherein whether

1.

Gulbeyaz show'd them both commiseration,
Or got rid of the parties altogether,
Like other angry ladies of her nation,--
Are things the turning of a hair or feather
May settle but far be't from me to anticipate
In what way feminine caprice may dissipate.
CXX.

I leave them for the present with good wishes,
Though doubts of their well-doing, to arrange
Another part of history; for the dishes
Of this our banquet we must sometimes change,
And trusting Juan may escape the fishes,

Although his situation now seems strange, And scarce secure, as such digressions are fair, The muse will take a little touch at warfare,

Ó LOVE: O Glory! what are ye who fly
Around us ever, rarely to alight?
There's not a meteor in the polar sky

Of such transcendent and more fleeting flight.
Chil!, and chain'd to cold earth, we lift on high
Our eyes in search of either lovely light;
A thousand and a thousand colours they
Assume, then leave us on our freezing way.

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
The present poem-of-I know not what-
A tendency to underrate and scoff

At human power and virtue, and all that:
And this they say in language rather rough.

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,
By Fénélon, by Luther, and by Plato;
By Tillotson, and Wesley, and Rousseau,
Who knew this life was not worth a potato.
'Tis not their fault, nor mine, if this be so-
For my part, I pretend not to be Cato,
Nor even Diogenes-We live and die,
But which is best, you know no more than I.

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,
Declared, with all his grand discoveries recent,
That he himself felt only like a youth
Picking up shells by the great ocean-Truth.*

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
That ye are dogs-your betters far-ye may
Read, or read not, what I am now essaying

To show ye what ye are in every way.
As little as the moon stops for the baying

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
Of the high talents of this new Vauban :
But the town ditch below was deep as ocean,
The rampart higher than you'd wish to hang.
But then there was a great want of precaution
(Prithee, excuse this engineering slang),
Nor work advanced, nor covered way, was there,
To hint at least Here is no thoroughfare.'
XII.

But a stone bastion, with a narrow gorge,
And walls as thick as most skulls born as yet:
Two batteries, cap-à-pie, as our St. George,
Casemated one, and t' other à barbette,

Of Danube's bank took formidable charge;
While two and twenty cannon, duly set,

Rose over the town's right side, in bristling tier,
Forty feet high, upon a cavalier.

XIII.

But from the river the town's open quite,

Because the Turks could never be persuaded
A Russian vessel e'er would heave in sight;
And such their creed was, till they were invaded,
When it grew rather late to set things right;

But as the Danube could not well be waded,
They look'd upon the Muscovite flotilla,
And only shouted' Allah l' and 'Bis Millah !'

XIV.

The Russians now were ready to attack,
But, O ye goddesses of war and glory,
How shall I spell the name of each Cossacque,
Who were immortal, could one tell their story?
Alas! what to their memory can lack?

Achilles' self was not more grim and gory
Than thousands of this new and polish'd nation,
Whose names want nothing but-pronunciation.
XV.

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),
It seems, has got an ear as well as trumpet,

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,
Of various nations, and ali volunteers;
Not fighting for their country or its crown,
But wishing to be one day brigadiers;
Also to have the sacking of a town,

A pleasant thing to young men at their years.
'Mongst them were several Englishmen of pith,
Sixteen call'd Thomson, and nineteen named Smith.
XIX.

Jack Thomson and Bill Thomson;-all the rest
Had been call'd Femmy, after the great bard:
I don't know whether they had arms or crest,
But such a godfather's as good a card.
Three of the Smiths were Peters; but the best
Amongst them all, hard blows to inflict or ward,
Was he, since so renown'd 'in country quarters
At Halifax; but now he served the Tartars.

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
He fell, immortal in a bulletin.

XXI.

I wonder (although Mars no doubt's a god I
Praise) if a man's name in a bulletin
May make up for a bullet in his body?
I hope this little question is no sin,
Because, though I am but a simple noddy,

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
But I'm too great a patriot to record
[gay i
Their Gallic names upon a glorious day.
I'd rather tell ten lies than say a word
Of truth

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
The Russ flotilla getting under way;
'Twas nine, when still advancing, undismay'd,
Within a cable's length their vessels lay

Off Ismail, and commenced a cannonade,
Which was return'd, with interest, I may say,
And by a fire of musketry and grape,
And shells and shot of every size and shape.
XXX.

For six hours bore they, without intermission,
The Turkish fire; and, aided by their own
Land batteries, worked their guns with great pre.
cision :

At length they found mere cannonade alone
By no means would produce the town's submission,
And made a signal to retreat at one.

One bark blew up; a second, near the works
Running aground, was taken by the Turks.

XXXI.

The Moslem, too, had lost both ships and men;
But when they saw the enemy retire,
Their Delhis mann'd some boats, and sail'd again,
And gall'd the Russians with a heavy fire,
And tried to make a landing on the main ;

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
All that the Russians did upon this day,

I think that several volumes would fall short,
And I should still have many things to say."
And so he says no more-but pays his court

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)
Most strongly recommended an assault,
In which he was opposed by young and hoary.
Which made a long debate. But I must hatt;
For if I wrote down every warrior's speech,

I doubt few readers e'er would mount the breach.
XXXVI.

There was a man-if that he was a man,

Not that his manhood could be call'd in question,