Hived in our bosoms like the bag o' the bee: Think'st thou the honey with those objects grew? Alas! 'twas not in them, but in thy power To double even the sweetness of a flower. CCXV. No more no more-Oh! never more, my heart, Thou canst not be my blessing or my curse: And in thy stead I've got a deal of judgment, Though heaven knows how it ever found a lodgement. CCXVI. My days of love are over, me no more 7 So for a good old-gentlemanly vice, I think I must take up with avarice. COXVII. Ambition was my idol, which was broken Before the shrines of Sorrow and of Pleasure; And the two last have left me many a token O'er which reflection may be made at leisure: Now, like Friar Bacon's brazen had, I've spoken, « Time is, Time was, Time's past, » a chymic treasu Is glittering youth, which I have spent betimesMy heart in passion, and my head on rhymes. CCXVIII. What is the end of fame? 'tis but to fill Whose summit, like all hills, is lost in vapour; For this men write, speak, preach, and heroes kill, And bards burn what they call their « midnight taper,» To have, when the original is dust, A name, a wretched picture, and worse bust. CCXIX. What are the hopes of man? old Egypt's King. Burglariously broke his coffin's lid : Let not a monument give you or me hopes But I, being fond of true philosophy, « All things that have been born were born to die, " And flesh (which Death mows down to hay) is grass; "You've pass'd your youth not so unpleasantly, «And if you had it o'er again-'twould pass « So thank your stars that matters are no worse, «And read your Bible, sir, and mind your purse. » CCXXI. But for the present, gentle reader, and Still gentler purchaser! the bard-that's I— Must, with permission, shake you by the hand, And so your humble servant, and good bye! We meet again, if we should understand Your patience further than by this short sample— CCXXII. « Go, little book, from this my solitude! « The world will find thee after many days. When Southey's read, and Wordsworth understood, I can't help putting in my claim to praise— The four first rhymes are Southey's every line : For God's sake, reader! take them not for mine. END OF CANTO FIRST. DON JUAN. CANTO II. I. On ye! who teach the ingenuous youth of nations, It mends their morals; never mind the pain In Juan's case were but employ'd in vain, Since in a way, that's rather of the oddest, he Became divested of his native modesty. 1. Had he but been placed at a public school, At least, had he been nurtured in the north; But then exceptions always prove its worthA lad of sixteen causing a divorce Puzzled his tutors very much, of course. I can't say that it puzzles me at all, If all things be consider'd: first, there was His lady-mother, mathematical, A- -never mind; his tutor, an old ass; A pretty woman-(that's quite natural, Or else the thing had hardly come to pass;) IV. Well-well, the world must turn upon its axis, V. I said, that Juan had been sent to Cadiz- Vi... An Arab horse, a stately stag, a barb New broke, a camelopard, a gazelle, No-none of these will do ;-and then their garb ! Their veil and petticoat-Alas! to dwell Upon such things would very near absorb A canto-then their feet and ancles-well, Thank heaven I've got no metaphor quite ready, And so, my sober Muse-come, let's be steady |