« AnteriorContinuar »
Titus the master, Antony the slave,
Sappho the sage blue-stocking, in whose grave All those may leap who rather would be neuter
(Leucadia's rock still overlooks the wave) Oh Love ! thou art the very god of evil, For, after all, we cannot call thee deyil.
And jestest with the brows of mightiest men :
Have much enıploy'd the Muse of history's pen; Their lives and fortunes were extremely various,
Such worthies time will never see again
And Aristippus, a material crew !
By theories quite practicable too ;
How pleasant were the maxim (not quite new), Eat, drink, and love, what can the rest avail us?" So said the royal sage Sardanapalus.
And should he have forgotten her so soon?
Perplexing question ; but, no doubt, the moon
Palpitation rises, 't is her boon ;
Abhor, condemn, abjure the mortal made
No permanent foundation can be laid :
And yet last night, being at a masquerade,
CCX. But soon philosophy came to my aid,
And whisper'd “think of every sacred tie!” “ I will, my dear philosophy!" I said ;
" But then her teeth, and then, oh heaven ! her eye! I 'll just inquire if she be wife or maid,
Or neither--out of curiosity." “Stop ! ” cried philosophy, with air so Grecian (Though she was mask'd then as a fair Venetian)
CCXI. “Stop!” so I stoppid.—But to return : that which
Men call inconstancy is nothing more Than admiration due where nature's rich
Profusion with young beauty covers o'er
A lovely statue we almost adore,
CCXII. ’T is the perception of the beautiful,
A fine extension of the faculties, Platonic, universal, wonderful,
Drawn from the stars, and filter'd through the skies, Without which life would be extremely dull ;
In short, it is the use of our own eyes, With one or two small senses added, just To hint that flesh is form’d of fiery dust.
For, surely, if we always could perceive
As when she rose upon us like an Eve, 'T would save us many a heart-ache, many a shilling
(For we must get them any how, or grieve); Whereas, if one sole lady pleased for ever, How pleasant for the heart, as well as liver !
But changes night and day too, like the sky;
And darkness and destruction, as on high ;
Its storms expire in water-drops ; the eye
very rarely executes its function,
That all the rest creep in and form a junction Like knots of vipers on a dunghill's soil —
Rage, fear, hate, jealousy, revenge, compunction, So that all mischiefs spring up from this entrail, Like earthquakes from the hidden fire callid “central.”
In this anatomy, I 've finish'd now
That being about the number I 'll allow
bow, Leaving Don Juan and Haidee to plead For them and theirs with all who deign to read.
1. Hail, Muse! et cætera.—We left Juan sleeping,
Pillow'd upon a fair and happy breast, And watch'd by eyes that never yet knew weeping,
And loved by a young heart too deeply bless'd To feel the poison through her spirit creeping,
Or know who rested there; a foe to rest Had soil'd the current of her sinless
years, And turn'd her pure heart's purest blood to tears.
Which makes it fatal to be loved ? Ah, why
branches hast thou wreathed thy bowers, And made thy best interpreter a sigh? As those who dote on odours pluck the flowers,
And place them on their breast—but place to die : Thus the frail beings we would fondly cherish Are laid within our bosoms but to perish.
In all the others all she loves is love,
And fits her loosely—like an easy glove, As you may find, whene'er
like to prove her :
But one thing 's pretty sure ; a woman planted (Unless at once she plunge for life in prayers),
After a decent time must be gallanted ; Although, no doubt, her first of love affairs
Is that to which her heart is wholly granted : Yet there are some, they say, who have had none, But those who have ne'er end with only one.
Of human frailty, folly, also crime,
Although they both are born in the same clime ;
A sad, sour, sober beverage--by time
Between their present and their future state ;
Is used, until the truth arrives too lateYet what can people do, except despair ?
The same things change their names at such a rate : For instance—passion in a lover 's glorious, But in a husband is pronounced uxorious.
VII. Men grow
ashamed of being so very fond, They sometimes also get a little tired (But that, of course, is rare), and then despond :
The same things cannot always be admired, Yet 't is 66 so nominated in the bond,"
That both are tied till one shall have expired. Sad thought! to lose the spouse that was adorning Our days, and put one's servants into mourning.
Which forms, in fact, true love's antithesis ;
But only give a bust of marriages;
There 's nothing wrong in a connubial kiss :
All comedies are ended by a marriage ;
For authors fear description might disparage The worlas to come of both, or fall beneath,
And then both worlds would punish their miscarriage ; So leaving each their priest and prayer-book ready, They say no more of Death or of the Lady.