Imágenes de página
PDF
ePub

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.

CANTO III. X

I.

"Stop!" so I stopp'd.-But to return: that which HAIL, Muse! et cetera.-We left Juan sleeping,

[blocks in formation]

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.
II.

Oh, love! what is it in this world of ours
Which makes it fatal to be loved? Ah, why
With cypress branches hast thou wreathed thy
And made thy best interpreter a sigh? [bowers,
As those who dote on odors 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.

III.

In her first passion woman loves her lover,
In all the others all she loves is love,
Which grows a habit she can ne'er get over,
And fits her loosely-like an easy glove,
As you may find whene'er you like to prove her:
One man alone at first her heart can move;
She then prefers him in the plural number,
Not finding that the additions much encumber.
IV.

I know not if the fault be men's or theirs ;

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.

V.

'Tis melancholy, and a fearful sign

Of human frailty, folly, also crime, That love and marriage rarely can combine, Although they both are born in the same clime; Marriage from love, like vinegar from wineA sad, sour, sober beverage-by time Is sharpen'd from its high celestial flavor Down to a very homely household savor.

VI.

There's something of antipathy, as 'twere, Between their present and their future state;

A kind of flattery that's hardly fair

Is used, until the truth arrives too lateYet what can people do, except despair?

The same things change their names at such arate 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 'tis "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.
VIII.

There's doubtless something in domestic doings
Which forms, in fact, true love's antithesis;
Romances paint at full length people's wooings,
But only give a bust of marriages;
For no one cares for matrimonial cooings.

There's nothing wrong in a connubial kiss;
Think you, if Laura had been Petrarch's wife,
He would have written sonnets all his life?

IX.

All tragedies are finish'd by a death,

All comedies are ended by a marriage;

The future states of both are left to faith,

For authors fear description might disparage The worlds to come of both, or fall beneath, [riage, And then both worlds would punish their miscarSo leaving each their priest and prayer-book ready, They say no more of Death or of the Lady.

X.

The only two that in my recollection

Have sung of heaven and hell, or marriage, are, Dante and Milton, and of both the affection

Was hapless in their nuptials, for some bar Of fault or temper ruin'd the connexion,(Such things, in fact, it don't ask much to mar ;) But Dante's Beatrice and Milton's Eve Were not drawn from their spouses, you conceive.

XI.

Some persons say that Dante meant theology
By Beatrice, and not a mistress-I,
Although my opinion may require apology,
Deem this a commentator's phantasy,
Unless indeed 'twas from his own knowledge he
Decided thus, and show'd good reason why;
I think that Dante's more abstruse ecstatics
Meant to personify the mathematics.

XII.

Haidee and Juan were not married, but
The fault was theirs, not mine: it is not fair,
Chaste reader, then, in any way to put

The blame on me, unless you wish they were;
Then, if you'd have them wedded, please to shut
The book which treats of this erroneous pair,
Before the consequences grow too awful-
"Tis dangerous to read of loves unlawful.

XIII.

Yet they were happy,-happy in the illicit
Indulgence of their innocent desires;
But, more imprudent grown with every visit,
Haidee forgot the island was her sire's;
When we have what we like, 'tis hard to miss it,
At least in the beginning, ere one tires;
Thus she came often, not a moment losing,
Whilst her piratical papa was cruising.

XIV.

Let not his mode of raising cash seem strange, Although he fleeced the flags of every nation, For into a prime minister but change

His title, and 'tis nothing but taxation; But he, more modest, took an humbler range Of life, and in an honester vocation Pursued o'er the high seas his watery journey, And merely practised as a sea-attorney.

XV.

The good old gentleman had been detain'd

By winds and waves, and some important captures, And, in the hope of more, at sea remain'd, Although a squall or two had damped his raptures By swamping one of the prizes; he had chain'd His prisoners, dividing them like chapters, In number'd lots; they all had cuffs and collars, And averaged each from ten to a hundred dollars.

XVI.

Some he disposed of off Cape Matapan,

Among his friends the Mainots; some he sold To his Tunis correspondents, save one man Toss'd overboard unsaleable, (being old ;) The rest-save here and there some richer one, Reserved for future ransom in the hold,Were link'd alike; as for the common people, he Had a large order from the Dey of Tripoli.

XVII.

The merchandise was served in the same way,
Pieced out for different marts in the Levant,
Except some certain portions of the prey,
Light classic articles of female want,
French stuffs, lace, tweezers, toothpicks, teapot, tray,
Guitars and castanets from Alicant,
All which selected from the spoil he gathers,
Robb'd for his daughter by the best of fathers.

XVIII.

A monkey, a Dutch mastiff, a mackaw,

Two parrots, with a Persian cat and kittens, He chose from several animals he saw

A terrier too, which once had been a Briton's, Who dying on the coast of Ithica,

The peasants gave the poor dumb thing a pittance These to secure in this strong blowing weather, He caged in one huge hamper altogether.

XIX.

Then having settled his marine affairs,

Despatching single cruisers here and there, His vessel having need of some repairs,

He shaped his course to where his daughter fair Continued still her hospitable cares :

But that part of the coast being shoal and bare, And rough with reefs which ran out many a mile, His port lay on the other side o' the isle.

XX.

And there he went ashore without delay,
Having no custom-house or quarantine
To ask him awkward questions on the way,
About the time and place where he had been:
He left his ship to be hove down next day,
With orders to the people to careen;
So that all hands were busy beyond measure,
In getting out goods, ballast, guns, and treasure.

XXI.

Arriving at the summit of a hill

Which overlook'd the white walls of his home, He stopp'd.-What singular emotions fill Their bosoms who have been induced to roam! With fluttering doubts if all be well or ill

With love for many, and with fears for some; All feelings which o'erleap the years long lost, And bring our hearts back to their starting-post. XXII.

The approach of home to husbands and to sires,
After long travelling by land or water,
Most naturally some small doubt inspires-

A female family's a serious matter; (None trusts the sex more, or so much admires,

But they hate flattery, so I never flatter ;) Wives in their husbands' absences grow subtler, And daughters sometimes run off with the butler.

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

You're wrong;-He was the mildest manner'd man Not that he was not sometimes rash or so,

That ever scuttled ship or cut a throat; With such true breeding of a gentleman, You never could divine his real thought; No courtier could, and scarcely woman can Gird more deceit within a petticoat; Pity he loved adventurous life's variety He was so great a loss to good society

But never in his real and serious mood; Then calm, concentrated, and still, and slow, He lay coil'd like the boa in the wood; With him it never was a word and blow.

His angry word once o'er, he shed no blood, But in his silence there was much to rue, And his one blow left little work for two.

ALIX.

He ask'd no further questions, and proceeded
On to the house, but by a private way,
So that the few who met him hardly heeded,
So little they expected him that day;
If love paternal in his bosom pleaded

For Haidee's sake, is more than I can say,
But certainly to one, deem'd dead, returning,
This revel seem'd a curious mode of mourning.
L.

If all the dead could now return to life,

(Which God forbid !) or some, or a great many; For instance, if a husband or his wife,

(Nuptial examples are as good as any,)
No doubt whate'er might be their former strife,
The present weather would be much more rainy-
Tears shed into the grave of the connexion
Would share most probably its resurrection.
LI.

He enter'd in the house, no more his home,
A thing to human feelings the most trying,
And harder for the heart to overcome

Perhaps, than even the mental pangs of dying; To find our hearthstone turn'd into a tomb,

And round its once warm precincts palely lying The ashes of our hopes, is a deep grief, Beyond a single gentleman's belief.

LII.

He enter'd in the house-his home no more, For without hearts there is no home-and felt The solitude of passing his own door

Without a welcome; there he long had dwelt, There his few peaceful days Time had swept o'er, There his worn bosom and keen eye would melt Over the innocence of that sweet child, His only shrine of feelings undefiled.

LIII.

He was a man of a strange temperament,
Of mild demeanor though of savage mood,
Moderate in all his habits, and content

With temperance in pleasure, as in food,
Quick to perceive, and strong to bear, and meant
For something better, if not wholly good;
His country's wrongs and his despair to save her
Had stung him from a slave to an enslaver.

LIV.

The love of power, and rapid gain of gold,
The hardness by long habitude produced,
The dangerous life in which he had grown old,
The mercy he had granted oft abused,
The sights he was accustom'd to behold,

The wild seas and wild men with whom he cruised,
Had cost his enemies a long repentance,
And made him a good friend, but bad acquaintance.

LV.

But something of the spirit of old Greece
Flash'd o'er his soul a few heroic rays,
Such as lit onward to the golden fleece

His predecessors in the Colchian days:
Tis true he had no ardent love for peace;
Alas! his country show'd no path to praise:
Hate to the world and war with every nation
He waged, in vengeance of her degredation.

[blocks in formation]
« AnteriorContinuar »