XCVIII. This may seem strange, but yet 'tis very common; XCIX. A real husband always is suspicious, But still no less suspects in the wrong place, Jealous of some one who had no such wishes, Or pandering blindly to his own disgrace, By harboring some dear friend extremely vicious; The last indeed's infallibly the case: And when the spouse and friend are gone off wholly, He wonders at their vice, and not his folly. C. Thus parents also are at times shortsighted; Though watchful as the lynx, they ne'er discover The while the wicked world beholds, delighted, Young Hopeful's mistress, or Miss Fanny's lover, Till some confounded escapade has blighted The plan of twenty years, and all is over; And then the mother cries, the father swears, And wonders why the devil he got heirs. CI. But Inez was so anxicus, and so clear Of sight, that I must think on this occasion, It was upon a day, a summer's day; Summer's indeed a very dangerous season, And so is spring about the end of May; The sun no doubt, is the prevailing reason, But whatsoe'er the cause is, one may say, And stand convicted of more truth than treason, That there are months which nature grows more merry in ; March has its hares, and May must have its heroine. CIII. 'Twas on a summer's day-the sixth of June: I like to be particular in dates, Not only of the age, and year, but moon; CIV. "Twas on the sixth of June, about the hour Of half-past six-perhaps still nearer seven, When Julia sate within as pretty a bower As ere held houri in that heathenish heaven Described by Mahomet, and Anacreon Moore, To whom the lyre and laurels have been given, With all the trophies of triumphant songHe won them well, and may he wear them long CV. She sate, but not alone; I know not well But there were she and Juan face to face- CVI. How beautiful she looked! her conscious heart Glow'd in her cheek, and yet she felt no wrong; Oh love how perfect is thy mystic art, [strong Strengthening the weak and trampling on the How self-deceitful is the sagest part Of mortals whom thy lure hath led along; The precipice she stood on was immenseSo was her creed in her own innocence. CVII. She thought of her own strength, and Juan's youth: And then of Don Alfonso's fifty years: I wish these last had not occurr'd, in sooth, CVIII. When people say, "I've told you fifty times," They make you dread that they'll recite them too; Julia had honor, virtue, truth and love, She never would disgrace the ring she wore, And while she ponder'd this, besides much more, One hand on Juan's carelessly was thrown, Quite by mistake-she thought it was her own; CX. Unconsciously she lean'd upon the other, To leave together this imprudent pair, CXI. The hand which still held Juan's, by degrees She would have shrunk as from a toad or asp, Had she imagined such a thing could rouse | A feling dangerous to a prudent spouse. And then-God knows what next-I can't go on; From leaf to leaf; 'tis sweet to view on high I'm almost sorry that I e'er begun. CXVI. Oh, Plato! Plato! you have paved the way, CXVII. And Julia's voice was lost, except in sighs, CXVIII. Tis said that Xerxes offer'd a reward To those who could invent him a new pleasure; Methinks the requisition's rather hard, And must have cost his majesty a treasure; The rainbow, based on ocean, span the sky; CXXIII. 'Tis sweet to hear the watch-dog's honest bark Bay deep-mouth'd welcome as we draw near home 'Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark Our coming, and look brighter when we come; 'Tis sweet to be awaken'd by the lark, Or lull'd by falling waters; sweet the hum Of bees, the voice of girls, the song of birds, The lisp of children, and their earliest words. CXXIV. Sweet is the vintage, when the showering grapes In Bacchanal profusion reel to earth. Purple and gushing: sweet are our escapes From civic revelry to rural mirth; Sweet to the miser are his glittering heaps, Sweet to the father is his first-born's birth, Sweet is revenge-especially to women, Pillage to soldiers, prize-money to seamen CXXV. Sweet is a legacy; and passing sweet The unexpected death of some old lady Or gentleman of seventy years complete, Who've made "us youth" wait too-too long For an estate, or cash, or country-seat, [already Still breaking, but with stamina so steady, That all the Israelites are fit to mob its Next owner for their double-damn'd post-obits CXXXIII. Man's a phemenon, one knows not what, And wonderful beyond all wondrous measure; 'Tis pity, though, in this sublime world, that Pleasure's a sin, and sometimes sin's a pleasure Few mortals know what end they would be at, But whether glory, power, or love, or treasure The path is through perplexing ways, and when The goal is gain'd, we die, you know-and thenCXXXIV. What then?-I do not know, no more do you- Now Julia found at length a voice, and cried, [mean?" A sudden fit of drunkenness or spleen? Dare you suspect nie, whom the thought would kill? CXLIII. Call me the only virtuous wife in Spain? fe search'd, they search'd, and rumaged every where," Have I not had two bishops at my feet, Of stockings, slippers, brushes, combs, complete, To keep them beautiful, or leave them neat: Arras they prick'd and curtains with their swords, And wounded severu snutters, and some boards. CXLIV. The Duke of Ichar, and Don Fernan Nunez And is it thus a faithful wife you treat? I wonder in what quarter now the moon is: I praise your vast forbearance not to beat Under the bed they search'd, and there they found—“Was it for this you took your sudden journey, Had signs or foot-marks, but the earth said nought: Under pretence of business indispensable, Whom I see standing there, and looking sensib.c |