The Works of Lord Byron

XXXI.
Voltaire says, "No:" he tells you that Candide
Found life most tolerable after meals;
He's wrong-unless man was a pig, indeed,
Repletion rather adds to what he feels;
Unless he's drunk, and then, no doubt, he's freed
From his own brain's oppression while it reels.
Of food I think with Philip's son, or rather
Ammon's, (ill pleased with one world and one father
XXXII.

I think with Alexander, that the act
Of eating, with another act or two,
Makes us feel our mortality in fact

Redoubled; when a roast and a ragout,
And fish and soup, by some side-dishes back'd,
Can give us either pain or pleasure, who
Would pique himself on intellects, whose use
Depends so much upon the gastric juice?

XXXIII.

The other evening, ('twas on Friday last)—
This is a fact, and no poetic fable-

Just as my great coat was about me cast,

My hat and gloves still lying on the table,

I heard a shot-'twas eight o'clock scarce past-
And running out as fast as I was able,3

I found the military commandant
Stretch'd in the street, and able scarce to pant.

XXXIV.

XXXVIII.

The scars of his old wounds were near his new, Those honor'd scars which brought him fame; And horrid was the contrast to the view

But let me quit the theme, as such things claim, Perhaps, even more attention than is due

From me: I gazed (as oft I have gazed the same) To try if I could wrench aught out of death, ;) | Which should confirm, or shake, or make a faith;

Poor fellow! for some reason, surely bad, [there They had slain him with five slugs; and left him To perish on the pavement: so I had

Him borne into the house and up the stair, And stripp'd, and look'd to-But why should I add More circumstances? vain was every care; 'The man was gone: in some Italian quarrel Kill'd by five bullets from an old gun-barrel.

XXXV.

I gazed upon him, for I knew him well;

And, though I have seen many corpses, never

Saw one, whom such an accident befell, [and liver,

So calm; though pierced through stomach, heart, He seem'd to sleep, for you could scarcely tell (As he bled inwardly, no hideous river Of gore divulged the cause) that he was dead:So as I gazed on him, I thought or said—

XXXVI.

"Can this be death? then what is life or death?
Speak!" but he spoke not: "wake!" but still he
But yesterday, and who had mightier breath? [slept:
A thousand warriors by his word were kept
In awe: he said, as the centurion saith,

'Go,' and he goeth; 'come,' and forth he stepp'd. The trump and bugle till he spake were dumbAnd now nought left him but the muffled drum."

XXXVII.

And they who waited once and worshipp'd-they
With their rough faces throng'd about the bed,
To gaze once more on the commanding clay
Which for the last, though not the first, time bled;
And such an end! that he who many a day

Had faced Napoleon's foes until they fled,-
The foremost in the charge or in the sally,
Bhould now be butcher'd in a civic alley.

XXXIX.

But it was all a mystery. Here we are,

And there we go:—but where? five bits of lead, Or three, or two, or one, send very far!

And is this blood, then, form'd but to be shed? Can every element our elements mar?

And air-earth-water-fire live-and we dead? We, whose minds comprehend all things? No more: But let us to the story as before.

XL.

The purchaser of Juan and acquaintance
Bore off his bargains to a gilded boat,
Embark'd himself and them, and off they went thence
As fast as oars could pull and water float;
They look'd like persons being led to sentence,

Wondering what next, till the caique was brought
Up in a little creek below a wall
O'ertopp'd with cypresses dark-green and tall.

XLI.

Here there conductor tapping at the wicket
Of a small iron door, 'twas open'd, and
He led them onward, first through a low thicket,
Flank'd by large groves which tower'd on either

hand:

They almost lost their way, and had to pick it-
For night was closing ere they came to land.
The eunuch made a sign to those on board,
Who row'd off, leaving them without a word.

XLII.

As they were plodding on their winding way, Through orange bowers, and jasmine, and so forth,

(Of which I might have a good deal to say,

There being no such profusion in the North Of oriental plants, "et cetera,"

But that of late your scribblers think it worth Their while to rear whole hotbeds in their works, Because one poet travell'd 'mongst the Turks :)

XLIII.

As they were threading on their way, there came Into Don Juan's head a thought, which he Whisper'd to his companion:-'twas the same

Which might have then occurr'd to you or me. "Methinks," said he "it would be no great shame If we should strike a stroke to set us free; Let's knock that old black fellow on the head, And march away-'twere easier done than said.”

XLIV.

"Yes," said the other, "and when done, what then?
How get out? how the devil got we in?
And when we once were fairly out, and when
From Saint Bartholomew we have saved our skin,
To-morrow 'd see us in some other den,

And worse off than we hitherto have been ;
Besides, I'm hungry, and just now would take.
Like Esau, for my birthright a beef-steak

Alas! man makes that great which makes nim little; The black, however, without hardly deigning
I grant you in a church 'tis very well:
What speaks of Heaven should by no means be brittle,
But strong and lasting, till no tongue can tell
Their names who rear'd it; but huge houses fit ill-With all its stars: and with a stretch attaining

And huge tombs worse-mankind, since Adam fell:
Methinks the story of the tower of Babel

A glance at that which rapt the slaves in wonder Trampled what they scarce trod for fear of staining. As if the milky-way their feet was under

A certain press or cupboard, niched in yonder In that remote recess which you may see

Might teach them this much better than I'm able. Or if you don't, the fault is not in me:

Shows that we build when we should but entomb us. Of all the customs of this polish'd nation.

LXIV.

At last they reach'd a quarter most retired,

Where echo wake as if from a long slumber : Though full of all things which could be desired, One wonder'd what to do with such a number Of articles which nobody required;

Here wealth had done its utmost to encumber With furniture an exquisite apartment,

LXXI.

"For his own share-he saw but small objection
To so respectable an ancient rite,
And after swallowing down a slight reflection,
For which he own'd a present appetite,

He doubted not a few hours of reflection
Would reconcile him to the business quite."-
"Will it?" said Juan, sharply; "Strike me dead,

Which puzzled nature much to know what art meant. But they as soon shall circumcise my head—

LXV.

It seem'd, however, but to open on

A range or suit of further chambers, which

LXXII.

"Cut off a thousand heads, before- -" -"Now Replied the other, "do not interrupt: [pray,"

Might lead to, heaven knows where; but in this one You put me out in what I had to say.

The moveables were prodigally rich;

Sofas 'twas half a sin to sit upon,

So costly were they; carpets every stitch Of workmanship so rare, that made you wish You could glide o'er them like a golden fish.

Sir!-as I said, as soon as I have supp'd,
I shall perpend if your proposals may
Be such as I can properly accept;
Provided always your great goodness still
Remits the matter to our own free-will.”

"So much the better," Juan said, "for them: Else they shall feel the weight of this my arm,

Which is not quite so light as you may deem.

"Then if I do," said Juan, "I'll be" "Hold!""You fool! I tell you no one means you harm
Rejoin'd the negro, "pray be not provoking:
This spirit's well, but it may wax too bold,
And you will find us not too fond of joking."
"What, sir," said Juan, "shall it e'er be told
That I unsex'd my dress?" But Baba, stroking
The things down, said-"Incense me, and I call
Those who will leave you of no sex at all.

LXXVI.

"I offer you a handsome suit of clothes: A woman's true; then there is a cause

I yield thus far; but soon will break the charm,
If any take me for that which I seem;
So that I trust, for every body's sake,
That this disguise may lead to no mistake."

Why you should wear them."—"What, though my Though somewhat grieved, could scarce forbear a

soul loathes

Upon the metamorphosis in view,

Farewell!" they mutually exclaim'd: "this soil
Seems fertile in adventures strange and new;
One's turn'd half Mussulman, and one a maid,
By this old black enchanter's unsought aid."

The effeminate garb?"-Thus, after a short pause,"
Sigh'd Juan, muttering also some slight oaths,
"What the devil shall I do with all this gauze?"
Thus he profanely term'd the finest lace
Which e'er set off a marriage-morning face.
LXXVII.

And then he swore; and, sighing, on he slipp'd
A pair of trowsers of flesh-color'd silk;
Next with a virgin zone he was equipp'd,

Which girt a slight chemise as white as milk,
But tugging on his petticoat, he tripp'd.

Which-as we say-or, as the Scotch say, whilk, (The rhyme obliges me to this :-sometimes Kings are not more imperative than rhymes)→

LXXVIII.

Whilk, which (or what you please) was owing to
His garment's novelty, and his being awkward:
And yet at last he managed to get through

His toilet, though no doubt a little backward;
The negro Baba help'd a little too,

When some untoward part of raiment stuck hard;
And, wrestling both his arms into a gown,
He paused and took a survey up and down.
LXXIX.

One difficulty still remain'd,-his hair

Was hardly long enough; but Baba found So many false long tresses all to spare,

That soon his head was most completely crown'd, After the manner then in fashion there;

And this addition with such gems was bound As suited the ensemble of his toilet,

While Baba made him comb his head and oil it.

LXXXIV.

"Farewell!" said Juan; "should we meet no more,
I wish you a good appetite."-" Farewell!"
Replied the other; "though it grievs me sore;
When we next meet we'll have a tale to tell;
We needs must follow when Fate puts from shore.
Keep your good name; though Eve herself once
fell."
[carry me,
"Nay," quoth the maid, "the Sultan's self shan't
Unless his highness promises to marry me."

LXXXV

And thus they parted, each by separate doors;
Baba led Juan onward, room by room,
Through glittering galleries and o'er marble floors,
Till a gigantic portal through the gloom,
Haughty and huge, along the distance towers;
And wafted far arose a rich perfume:
It seem'd as though they came upon a shrine
For all was vast, still, fragrant, and divine.

LXXXVI.

The giant door was broad, and bright, and high,
Of gilded bronze, and carved in curious guise;
Warriors thereon were battling furiously;
Here stalks the victor, there the vanquish'd lies:
There captives led in triumph droop the eye,
And in perspective many a squadron flies:
It seems the work of times before the line
Of Rome transplanted fell with Constantine.

LXXXVII.

This massy portal stood at the wide close
Of a huge hall, and on its either side
Two little dwarfs, the least you could suppose,
Were sate, like ugly imps, as if allied
In mockery to the enormous gate which rose
O'er them in almost pyramidic pride:
The gate so splendid was in all its features,"
You never thought about these little creatures,
LXXXVIII.

Until you nearly trod on them, and then

You started back in horror to survey The wondrous hideousness of those small men, Whose color was not black, nor white, nor gray, But an extraneous mixture, which no pen

Can trace, although perhaps the pencil may; They were misshapen pigmies, deaf and dumbMonsters, who cost a no less monstrous sum.

LXXXIX.

Their duty was-for they were strong, and though They look'd so little, did strong things at timesTo ope this door, which they could really do,

The hinges being as smooth as Rogers' rhymes; And now and then, with tough strings of the bow, As is the custom of those eastern climes, To give some rebel Pacha a cravat; For mutes are generally used for that.

XC.

They spoke by signs-that is not spoke at all; And, looking like two incubi, they glared As Baba with his fingers made them fall

To heaving back the portal folds: it scared Juan a moment, as this pair so small,

With shrinking serpent optics on him stared; It was as if their little looks could poison Or fascinate whome'er they fix'd their eyes on.

XCI.

Before they enter'd, Baba paused to hint
To Juan some slight lessons as his guide:
"If you could just contrive," he said, "to stint
That somewhat manly majesty of stride, [in't)—|
"Twould be as well, and-(though there's not much
To swing a little less from side to side,
Which has, at times, an aspect of the oddest;
And also, could you look a little modest,

XCII.

""Twould be convenient; for these mutes have eyes Like needles, which might pierce those petticoats; And if they should discover your disguise,

You know how near us the deep Bosphorus floats; And you and I may chance, ere morning rise, To find our way to Marmora without boats, Stich'd up in sacks-a mode of navigation A good deal practised here upon occasion."

XCIII.

With this encouragement, he led the way
Into a room still nobler than the last;

A rich confusion form'd a disarray

In such sort, that the eye along it cast Could hardly carry any thing away,

Object on object flash'd so bright and fast; A dazzling mass of gems, and gold, and glitter, Magnificently mingled in a litter.

In the more chasten'd domes of western kings,
(Of which I've also seen some six or seven,)
Where I can't say or gold or diamond flings
Much lustre, there is much to be forgiven;
Groups of bad statues, tables, chairs, and pictures,
On which I cannot pause to make my strictures.
XCV.

In this imperial hall, at distance lay
Under a canopy, and there reclined,
Quite in a confidential queenly way,

A lady; Baba stopp'd, and kneeling, sign'd
To Juan, who, though not much used to pray,
Knelt down by instinct, wondering in his mind
What all this meant: while Baba bow'd and bended
His head, until the ceremony ended.

XCVI.

The lady, rising up with such an air

As Venus rose with from the wave, on them Bent like an antelope á Paphian pair

Of eyes, which put out each surrounding gem; And, raising up an arm as moonlight fair,

She sign'd to Baba, who first kiss'd the hem Of her deep-purple robe, and, speaking low Pointed to Juan, who remain'd below.

XCVII.

Her presence was as lofty as her state;

Her beauty of that overpowering kind, Whose force description only would abate: I'd rather leave it much to your own mind, Than lessen it by what I could relate

Of forms and features; it would strike you blind, Could I do justice to the full detail; So, luckily for both, my phrases fail.

XCVIII.

This much however I may add-her years [springs,
Were ripe-they might make six-and-twenty
But there are forms which Time to touch forbears,
And turns aside his scythe to vulgar things,
Such as was Mary's, Queen of Scots; true tears
And love destroy; and sapping sorrow wrings
Charms from the charmer-yet some never grow
Ugly; for instance-Ninon de l'Enclos.

XCIX.

She spake some words to her attendants, who
Composed a choir of girls, ten or a dozen,
And were all clad alike; like Juan, too,

Who wore their uniform, by Baba chosen:
They form'd a very nymph-like looking crew,
Which might have call'd Diana's chorus "cousin,"
As far as outward show may correspond;

I won't be bail for any thing beyond.

They bow'd obeisance and withdrew, retiring,
But not by the same door through which came in
Baba and Juan, which last stood admiring,
At some small distance, all he saw within
This strange saloon, much fitted for inspiring
Marvel and praise: for both or none things win ;
And I must say I ne'er could see the very
Great happiness of the "Nil Admirari.”

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The Works of Lord Byron: Embracing His Suppressed Poems, and a Sketch of His ...