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, 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, All strut, and stays, and whiskers, to demand 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,' Then sees your heart wreck'd with an inward 'Ye gods, I grow a talker !' Let us prate LXV. For 'tis a low, newspaper, humdrum, lawsuit A verdict-grievous foe to those who cause it- But they who blunder thus are raw beginners: Among the proudest of our aristocracy, And passion's self must have a spice of frantic-- LXIX. I say, at first-for he found out, at last, Though travell'd, I have never had the luck to 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;' It is. I will not swear that black is white; Or, if I'm wrong, I'll not be ta'en aback : 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, Or say they are like virtuous mermaids, whose Who have a due respect for their own wishes. 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. 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) And full of promise, as the spring of prime. 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 (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; Here the twelfth canto of our introduction And if my thunderbolt not always rattles, An usurer could scarce expect much more-- LXXXIX. That is your present theme for popularity: To show the people the best way to break. 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, Besides, the sad's a source of the sublime; 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, In Britain-which, of course, true patriots find 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. Men's wrongs, and rather check than punish Of all tales 'tis the saddest-and more sad 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 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; Chaste was she, to detraction's desperation, 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, And thus Lord Henry, who was cautious as 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, At least they think so, to exert their state In birth, in rank, in fortune likewise equal, 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, XXII. He liked the gentle Spaniard for his gravity; And then he talk'd with him about Madrid, 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, And thus acquaintance grew, at noble routs, His manners show'd him sprung from a high mother: And all men like to show their hospitality 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, 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. |