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Such thoughts are quite below the strain they've chosen :

'Tis a great moral lesson' they are reading. I thought, at setting off, about two dozen

Cantos would do; but, at Apollo's pleading,
If that my Pegasus should not be founder'd,
I think to canter gently through a hundred.

LVI.

Don Juan saw that microcosm on stilts,

Yclept the Great World; for it is the least, Although the highest: but, as swords have hilts, By which their power of mischief is increased, When man in battle or in quarrel tilts,

Thus the low world, north, south, or west, or east, Must still obey the high-which is their handle, Their moon, their sun, their gas, their farthing candle.

LVII.

He had many friends who had many wives, and was Well look'd upon by both, to that extent

Of friendship which you may accept or pass.

It does nor good nor harm; being merely meant To keep the wheels going of the higher class,

And draw them nightly when a ticket's sent: And what with masquerades, and fêtes, and balls, For the first season such a life scarce palls.

LVIII.

A young unmarried man, with a good name And fortune, has an awkward part to play: For good society is but a game,

The royal game of goose,' as I may say, Where everybody has some separate aim, An end to answer, or a plan to lay ; The single ladies wishing to be double, The married ones to save the virgins trouble. LIX.

I don't mean this as general, but particular Examples may be found of such pursuits: Though several also keep their perpendicular, Like poplars, with good principles for roots; Yet many have a method more reticular

'Fishers for men,' like sirens with soft lutes: For talk six times with the same single lady, And you may get the wedding dresses ready.

LX.

Perhaps you'll have a letter from the mother,
To say her daughter's feelings are trepann'd:
Perhaps you'll have a visit froin the brother,

All strut, and stays, and whiskers, to demand
What your intentions are.' One way or other,
It seems the virgin's heart expects your hand:
And between pity for her case and yours,
You'll add to Matrimony's list of cures.

LXI.

I've known a dozen weddings made even thus, And some of them high names: I have also known

Young men who-though they hated to discuss

Pretensions which they never dream'd to have Yet neither frighten'd by a female fuss, [shownNor by mustachios moved, were let alone; And lived as did the broken-hearted fair, In happier plight than if they form'd a pair.

LXII.

There's also nightly, to the uninitiated,

A peril-not indeed like love or marriage, But not the less for this to be depreciated:

It is I meant and mean not to disparage The show of virtue even in the vitiated

It adds an outward grace unto their carriageBut to denounce the amphibious sort of harlot, Couleur de rose, who's neither white nor scarlet. LXIII.

Such is our cold coquette, who can't say 'No,'
And won't say 'Yes,' and keeps you on and
[offing
On a lee-shore, till it begins to blow-

Then sees your heart wreck'd with an inward
This works a world of sentimental woe, [scoffing.
And sends new Werters yearly to their coffin;
But yet is merely innocent flirtation,
Not quite adultery, but adulteration.
LXIV.

'Ye gods, I grow a talker !' Let us prate
The next of perils, though I place it sternest,
Is when, without regard to church or state,'
A wife makes or takes love in upright earnest.
Abroad, such things decide few women's fate
(Such, early traveller! is the truth thou learnest)
But in old England, when a young bride errs,
Poor thing, Eve's was a trifling case to hers:

LXV.

For 'tis a low, newspaper, humdrum, lawsuit
Country, where a young couple of the same ages
Can't form a friendship, but the world o'erawes it.
Then there's the vulgar trick of those d-d
damages !

A verdict-grievous foe to those who cause it-
Forms a sad climax to romantic homages:
Besides those soothing speeches of the pleaders,
And evidences, which regale all readers.
LXV

But they who blunder thus are raw beginners:
A little genial sprinkling of hypocrisy
Has saved the fame of thousand splendid sinners,
The loveliest oligarchs of our gynocracy.
You may see such at all the balls and dinners,

Among the proudest of our aristocracy,
So gentle, charming, charitable, chaste;
And all by having tact as well as taste.

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And passion's self must have a spice of frantic--
Into a country where 'tis half a fashion,
Seem'd to him half commercial, half pedantic,
Howe'er he might esteem this moral nation:
Besides (alas! his taste-forgive and pity)
At first, he did not think the women pretty.

LXIX.

I say, at first-for he found out, at last,
But by degrees, that they were fairer far
Than the more glowing dames whose lot is cast
Beneath the influence of the eastern star.
A further proof we should not judge in haste:
Yet inexperience could not be his bar
To taste. The truth is, if men would confess,
That novelties please less than they impress.
LXX.

Though travell'd, I have never had the luck to
Trace up those shuffling negroes, Nile or Niger,
To that impracticable place, Timbuctoo,

Where Geography finds no one to oblige her With such a chart as may be safely stuck to→

For Europe ploughs in Afric like 'bos piger;'
But if I had been at Timbuctoo, there,
No doubt, I should be told that black is fair.
LXXI.

It is. I will not swear that black is white;
But I suspect, in fact, that white is black,
And the whole matter rests upon eyesight.
Ask a blind man, the best judge. You'll attack,
Perhaps, this new position; but I'm right.

Or, if I'm wrong, I'll not be ta'en aback :
He hath no morn nor night, but all is dark
Within; and what seest thou? A dubious spark.

LXXII.

But I'm relapsing into metaphysics,

That labyrinth, whose clue is of the same Construction as your cures for hectic phthisics, Those bright moths fluttering round a dying flame:

And this reflection brings me to plain physics,
And to the beauties of a foreign dame,
Compared with those of our p re pearls of price,
Those polar summers, all sun, and some ice.
LXXIII.

Or say they are like virtuous mermaids, whose
Beginnings are fair faces, ends mere fishes;
Not that there's not a quantity of those

Who have a due respect for their own wishes.
Like Russians rushing from hot baths to snows*
Are they, at bottom virtuous, even when vicious:
They warm into a scrape, but keep, of course,
As a reserve, a plunge into remorse.

LXXIV

But this has nouglit to do with their outsides. I said that Juan did not think them pretty At the first blush; for a fair Briton hides

Half her attractions-probably from pityAnd rather calmly into the heart glides,

Than storms it, as a foe would take a city;

The Russians, as is well known, run out from their hot baths to plunge into the Neva; a pleasant prac tical antithesis, which it seems does them no harm.

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A little blasé-'tis not to be wonder'd

At, that his heart had got a tougher rind; And, though not vainer from his past success, No doubt his sensibilities were less.

LXXXII.

He also had been busy, seeing sightsThe Parliament and all the other houses; Had sat beneath the gallery at nights,

To hear debates whose thunder roused (not rouses)

The world to gaze upon those northern lights, Which flash'd as far as where the musk-bull* browses:

He had also stood, at times, behind the throne; But Grey was not arrived, and Chatham gone. LXXXIII.

He saw, however, at the closing session,

That noble sight, when really free the nation, A king in constitutional possession

Of such a throne as is the proudest station, Though despots know it not-till the progression Of freedom shall complete their education. Tis not mere splendour makes the show august To eye or heart-it is the people's trust.

LXXXIV.

There, too, he saw (whate'er he may be now)
A Prince, the prince of princes, at the time,
With fascination in his very bow,

And full of promise, as the spring of prime.
Though royalty was written on his brow,

He had then the grace, too, rare in every clime, Of being without alloy of fop or beau, A finish'd gentleman from top to toe.

LXXXV.

And Juan was received, as hath been said, Into the best society; and there Occurr'd what often happens, I'm afraid, However disciplined and debonnaire, The talent and good humour he display'd, Besides the mark'd distinction of his air,

* For a description and print of this inhabitant of the Polar Region and native country of the Aurora Borealis, see Parry's Voyage in Search of a NorthI'est Passage.

I.

Exposed him, as was natural, to temptation, Even though himself avoided the occasion.

LXXXVI.

But what, and where, with whom, and when, and
Is not to be put hastily together;
[why,
And as my object is morality

(Whatever people say), I don't know whether I'll leave a single reader's eyelid dry,

But harrow up his feelings, till they wither;
And hew out a huge monument of pathos,
As Philip's son proposed to do with Athos.*
LXXXVII,

Here the twelfth canto of our introduction
Ends. When the body of the book's begun,
You'll find it of a different construction
From what some people say 'twill be, when done:
The plan at present's simply in concoction.
I can't oblige you, reader, to read on:
That's your affair, not mine: a real spirit
Should neither court neglect, nor dread to bear it.
LXXXVIII.

And if my thunderbolt not always rattles,
Remember, reader, you have had before
The worst of tempests and the best of battles,
That e'er were brew'd from elements or gore,
Besides the most sublime of-Heaven knows what
else:

An usurer could scarce expect much more--
But my best canto, save one on astronomy,
Will turn upon 'political economy.'

LXXXIX.

That is your present theme for popularity:
Now that the public hedge hath scarce a stake,
It grows an act of patriotic charit

To show the people the best way to break.
My plan (but I, if but for singularity,

Reserve it) will be very sure to take. Meantime, read all the national-debt sinkers, And tell me what you think of our great thinkers.

A sculptor projected to hew Mount Athos into a statue of Alexander, with a city in one hand, and I believe a river in his pocket, with various other similar devices. But Alexander is gone, and Athos remains, I trust ere long to look over a nation of freemen.

CANTO THE THIRTEENTH.

I NOW mean to be serious it is time,
Since laughter now-a-days is deem'd too serious.
A jest at Vice, by Virtue's called a crime,
And critically held as deleterious:

Besides, the sad's a source of the sublime;
Although, when long, a little apt to weary us :
And therefore shall my lay soar high and solemn,
an old temple dwindled to a column,

II.

he Lady Adeline Amundeville

('Tis an old Norman name, and to be found In pedigrees, by those who wander still

Along the last fields of that Gothic ground)

1823.

Was high-born, wealthy by her father's will,
And beauteous, even where beauties most
abound,

In Britain-which, of course, true patriots find
The goodliest soil of body and of mind.

III,

I'll not gainsay them: it is not my cue:

I'll leave them to their taste, no doubt the best; An eye's an eye, and whether black or blue Is no great matter, so 'tis in request; 'Tis nonsense to dispute about a hue

The kindest may be taken as a test. The fair sex should be always fair; and no man, Till thirty, should perceive there's a plain woman.

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Men's wrongs, and rather check than punish
Had not Cervantes, in that too true tale
Of Quixote, shown how all such efforts fail.
IX.

Of all tales 'tis the saddest-and more sad
Because it makes us smile: his hero's right,
And still pursues the right: to curb the bad
His only object; and 'gainst odds to fight,
His guerdon: 'tis his virtue makes him mad!
But his adventures form a sorry sight:
A sorrier still is the great moral taught,
By that real epic, unto all who have thought.
X.

Redressing injury, revenging wrong,

To aid the damsel and destroy the caitiff; Opposing singly the united strong,

From foreign yoke to free the helpless native :

*Sir, I like a good hater.'-See the Life of Dr. Johnson, etc.

Alas! must noblest views, like an old song,

Be for mere fancy's sport a theme creative, A jest, a riddle, Fame through thick and thin sought!

And Socrates himself but Wisdom's Quixote?

XI.

Cervantes smiled Spain's chivalry away:

A single laugh demolish'd the right arm Of his own country: seldom, since that day, Has Spain had heroes. While Romance could charm,

The world gave ground before her bright array; And therefore have his volumes done such harm, That all their glory, as a composition,

Was dearly purchased by his land's perdition.

XII.

I'm at my old lunes'-digression-and forget
The Lady Adeline Ainundeville,
The fair most fatal Juan ever met,

Although she was not evil, nor meant ill; But Destiny and Passion spread the net (Fate is a good excuse for our own will), And caught them;-what do they not catch me thinks

But I'm not Edipus, and Life's a Sphinx.

XIII.

I tell the tale as it is told, nor dare

To venture a solution: 'Davus sum !" And now I will proceed upon the pair.

Sweet Adeline, amidst the gay world's hum, Was the Queen-Bee, the glass of all that's fair; Whose charms made all men speak, and women dumb:

The last's a miracle, and such was reckoned;
And since that time there has not been a second.
XIV.

Chaste was she, to detraction's desperation,
And wedded unto one she had loved well-
A man known in the councils of the nation,
Cool, and quite English, imperturbable,
Though apt to act with fire upon occasion;

Proud of himself and her: the world could tell Nought against either, and both seem'd secureShe in her virtue, he in his hauteur.

XV.

It chanced some diplomatical relations,
Arising out of business, often brought
Himself and Juan, in their mutual stations,
Into close contact. Though reserved, nor caught
By specious seeming, Juan's youth, and patience,
And talent, on his haughty spirit wrought,
And formed a basis of esteem, which ends
In making men what courtesy calls friends.
XVI.

And thus Lord Henry, who was cautious as
Reserve and pride could make him, and full slow
In judging men, when once his judgment was
Determined, right or wrong, on friend or foe,
Had all the pertinacity pride has,

Which knows no ebb to its imperious flow, And loves or hates, disdaining to be guided, Because its own good pleasure hath decided.

XVII.

His friendships, therefore, and no less aversions, Though oft well founded, which confirm'd but

more

His prepossessions, like the laws of Persians

And Medes, would ne'er revoke what went before. His feelings had not those strange fits, like tertians, Of common likings, which make some deplore What they should laugh at--the mere ague still Of men's regard, the fever or the chill.

XVIII.

'Tis not in mortals to command success, But do you more, Sempronius-don't deserve it ;' And, take my word, you won't have any less.

Be wary, watch the time, and always serve it; Give gently way, when there's too great a press; And for your conscience, only learn to nerve it; For, like a racer or a boxer, training,

'Twill make, if proved, vast efforts without paining.

XIX.

Lord Henry, also, liked to be superior,
As most men do, the little or the great:
The very lowest find out an inferior,

At least they think so, to exert their state
Upon for there are very few things wearier
Than solitary Pride's oppressive weight,
Which mortals generously would divide,
By bidding others carry while they ride.
XX.

In birth, in rank, in fortune likewise equal,
O'er Juan he could no distinction claim;
In years he had the advantage of time's sequel,
And, as he thought, in country much the same;
Because bold Britons have a tongue and free quill,
At which all modern nations vainly aim;
And the Lord Henry was a great debater,
So that few members kept the House up later.

XXI.

These were advantages: and then he thoughtIt was his foible, but by no means sinisterThat few or none more than himself had caught

Court mysteries, having been himself a minister. He liked to teach that which he had been taught, And greatly shone whenever there had been a stir;

And reconciled all qualities which grace man,
Always a patriot, and sometimes a placeman.

XXII.

He liked the gentle Spaniard for his gravity;
He almost honour'd him for his docility,
Because, though young, he acquiesc'd with suavity,
Or contradicted but with proud humility,
He knew the world, and would not see depravity
In faults which sometimes show the soil's fertility,
If that the weeds o'erlive not the first crop-
For then they are very difficult to stop.
XXIII.

And then he talk'd with him about Madrid,
Constantinople, and such distant places;
Where people always did as they were bid,

Or did what they should not with foreign graces. Of coursers, also, spake they: Henry rid

Well, like most Englishmen, and loved the races

And Juan, like a true-born Andalusian,
Could back a horse, as despots ride a Russian.
XXIV.

And thus acquaintance grew, at noble routs,
And diplomatic dinners, or at other;
For Juan stood well both with Ins and Outs,
As in freemasonry a higher brother.
Upon his talent Henry had no doubts;

His manners show'd him sprung from a high

mother:

And all men like to show their hospitality
To him whose breeding matches with his quality.

XXV.

At Blank-Blank Square; for we will break no

squares,

By naming streets: since men are so censoriou And apt to sow an author's wheat with tares, Reaping allusions private and inglorious, Where none were dreamt of, unto love's affairs, Which were, or are, or are to be, notorious That therefore do I previously declare, Lord Henry's mansion was in Blank-Blank Square.

XXVI.

Also there bin* another pious reason

For making squares and streets anonymous; Which is, that there is scarce a single season

Which doth not shake some very splendid house With some slight heart-quake of domestic treasonA topic scandal doth delight to rouse : Such I might stumble over unawares, Unless I knew the very chastest squares.

XXVII.

'Tis true, I might have chosen Piccadilly,
A place where peccadillos are unknown;
But I have motives, whether wise or silly,
For letting that pure sanctuary alone.
Therefore I name not square, street, place, until I
Find one where nothing naughty can be shown,
A vestal shrine of innocence of heart:

Such are but I have lost the London Chart.

XXVIII.

At Henry's mansion, then, in Blank-Blank Square, Was Juan a recherché, welcome guest,

As many other noble scions were;

And some who had but talent for their crest; Or wealth, which is a passport everywhere; Or even mere fashion, which indeed's the best Recommendation; and to be well drest Will very often supersede the rest.

XXIX.

And since there's safety in a multitude

Of counsellors,' as Solomon hath said, Or some one for him, in some sage, grave mood; Indeed, we see the daily proof display'd,

In senates, at the bar, in wordy feud,

Where'er collective wisdom can parade, Which is the only cause, that we can guess, Of Britain's present wealth and happiness:

*With everything that pretty bin,

My lady sweet, arise.-SHAKSPEARE.

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