And one or two sad, separate wives, without A fruit to bloom upon their withering boughBegg'd to bring up the little girl, and "out,”— For that's the phrase that settles all things now, Meaning a virgin's first blush at a rout, And all her points as thorough-bred to show: And I assure you, that like virgin honey Smart uniforms and sparkling coronets Are spurn'd in turn, until her turn arrives, Some gentleman who fights, or writes, or drives XXXVII. For sometimes they accept some long pursuer, XXXVIII. I, for my part-(one "modern instance" more,) Those became one who soon were to be two, Tastes their first season (mostly if they have money.) That the young lady made a monstrous choice. Now, whether it be thus, or that they are stricter, XLVII. XLVIII. High in high circles, gentle in her own, Or, at the least, would lengthen out my song:- XLIX. Juan. too, was a sort of favorite with her, Because she thought him a good heart at bottom. A little spoil'd, but not so altogether; Which was a wonder, if you think who got him, L. And these vicissitudes tell best in youth; He who hath proved war, storm, or woman's rage LI. How far it profits is another matter,- LII. I call such things transmission; for there i❤ LIII. But whether fits, or wits, or harpsichords, With regular descent, in these our days, New vestals claim men's eyes with the same praise said that Lady Pinchbeck had been talk'd about-But now I will begin my poem. 'Tis Perhaps a little strange, if not quite new, LV. My Muses do not care a pinch of rosin '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, Yelept 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. 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 carriage- Such is your cold coquette, who can't say "No," LXIV. "Ye gods, I grow a talker!" Let us prate. The next of perils, though I place it sternest, He had many friends who had many wives, and was Is when, without regard to "Church or State," In does nor good nor harm, being merely meant 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. 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 agɩs 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! LXVI. But they who blunder thus are raw beginners; LXVII. Juan, who did not stand in the predicament Tithes, taxes, duns, and doors with double knockings LXVIII. But coming young from lands and scenes romantic Nor by mustachios moved, were let alone, And lived, as did the broken-hearted fair, In happier plight than if they form'd a pair. She cannot step as does an Arab barb, Or Andalusian girl from mass returning, Nor wear as gracefully as Gauls her garb, Nor in her eye Ausonia's glance is burning; Her voice, though sweet, is not so fit to warble those bravuras (which I still am learning To like, though I have been seven years in Italy, LXXVI. She cannot do these things, nor one or two (A thing approved as saving time and toil,; But though the soil may give you time and troub' Well cultivated, it will render double. LXXVII. And if in fact she takes to a "grande passion," LXXVIII. The reason's obvious: if there's an eclat, They lose their caste at once, as do the Parias; And when the delicacies of the law [various Have fill'd their papers with their comments Society, that china without flaw, (The hypocrite!) will banish them like Marius, To sit amid the ruins of their guilt: For Fame's a Carthage not so soon rebuilt LXXIX Perhaps this is as it should be ;-it is A comment on the Gospel's "Sin no more And be thy sins forgiven :"-but upon this I leave the saints to settle their own score. Abroad, though doubtless they do much amiss, An erring woman finds an opener docr For her return to virtue-as they call The lady who should be at home to all. LXXX. For me, By all the laws the strictest lawyer pleads, LXXXI. But Juan was no casuist, nor had ponder'd Upon the moral lessons of mankind: Besides, he had not seen, of several hundred, A lady altogether to his mind. A little "blase "-'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 sights- To hear debates whose thunder roused not (rouses) The world to gaze upon those northern lights,4 Which flash'd as far as where the musk-bull browses: He had also stood at times behind the throne And have, or had, an ear that served me prettily)-'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, 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, And Juan was received, as hath been said, Besides the mark'd distinction of his air, 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 CANTO XIII. I. 1 NOW mean to be serious;—it is time, II. The 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) 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 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. IV. And after that serene and somewhat dull Epoch, that awkward corner turn'd for days More quiet, when our moon's no more at full, We may presume to criticise or praise; Because indifference begins to lull Our passions, and we walk in wisdom's ways; Also because the figure and the face Hint, that 'tis time to give the younger place. |