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There was a we in the homage which she drew: It was not jealousy, I think; but shun
Her spirit seem'd as seated on a throne,

Following the ignes fatui of mankind :
Apart from the surrounding world, and strong It was not -- But 'tis easier far, alas,
In its own strength-most strange in one so young.

To say what it was not than what it was.

Now it so happen'd, in the catalogue

Little Aurora deem'd she was the theme Of Adeline, Aurora was omitted,

of such discussion. She was there a guest Although her birth and wealth had given her vogue, A beauteous ripple of the brilliant stream Beyond the charmers we've already cited :

Of rank and youth, though purer than the rest, 1ler beauty also seem'd to formi no clog

Which flow'd on for a moment in the beam Against her being mention'd as well fitted

Time sheds a moment o'er each sparkling crest. By many virtucs to be worth the trouble

Had she known this, she would hare calmly Of single gentlemen, who would be double.

She had so much, or little, of the child. (smiledXLIX.

LVI. And this omission, like that of the bust

The dashing and proud air of Adeline Of Brutus at the pageant of Tiberius,

Impose l not upon her; she saw her blaze Made Juan wonder, as no doubt he must.

Much as she would have seen a glow-worm shine, This he express'd, half smiling and half serious;

Then turn'd unto the stars for loftier rays. When Adeline replied, with some disgust,

Juan was something she could not divine, And with an air, to say the least, imperious,

Being no sibyl in the new world's ways; She marvell'd 'what he saw in such a baby,

Yet she was nothing dazzled by the meteor, As that prim, silent, cold Aurora Raby!'

Because she did not pin her faith on feature.

LVII. Juan rejoined, she was a Catholic,

His fame, too-for he had that kind of fame And therefore fittest, as of his persuasion ;

Which sometimes plays the deuce with womanSince he was sure his mother would fall sick,

kindAnd the Pope thunder excommunication,

A heterogeneous mass of glorious blame, If --' But here Adeline, who seem'd to pique

Half virtues and whole vices being combined : Herself extremely on the inoculation

Faults which attract because they are not tame; of others with her own opinions, stated

Follies trick'd out 90 brightly that they blind: As usual-the same reason which she late did. These seals upon her wax made no impression, LI

Such was her coldness or her self-possession. And wherefore not? A reasonable reason,

LVIII. If good, is none the worse for repetition ;

Juan knew nought of such a characterIf bad, the best way's certainly to tease on,

High, yet resembling not his lost Haidée: And amplify-you lose much by concision! Yet cach was radiant in her proper sphere. Whereas insisting in or out of season

The island girl, bred up by the lonc sea, Convinces all men, even a politician ;

More warm, as lovely, and not less sincere, Or-what is just the same-it wearies out:

Was Nature's all: Aurora could not be, So the end's gain'd, what signifies the route ?

Nor would be, thus: the difference in thiem

Was such as lies between a flower and gem.
Il'hy Adeline had this slight prejudice-

LIX. l'or prejudice it was-against a creature

Having wound up with this sublime comparison, As pure as sanctity itself from vice,

Methinks we may proceed upon our narrative, With all the added charm of form and feature, And, as my friend Scott says, I sound my wariFor me appears a question far too nice,

son;' Since Adeline was liberal by nature?

Scott, the superlative of my comparativeBut nature's nature, and has more caprices

Scott, who can paint your Christian knight or Than I have time, or will, to take to picces.


Serf, lord, man, with such skill as none would LIII. Perhaps she did not like the quiet way

share it, if With which Aurora on those baubles look',

There had not been one Shakspeare and Voltaire, Which charm most people in their earlier day;

Of one or both of whom he seems the heir, For there are few things by mankind less brook'd,

IX. And womankind too, if we so may say,

I say, in my slight way I inay proceed Than finding thus their genius stand rebuked, To play upon the surface of humanity. Like · Antony's by Caesar,' by the few

I write the world, nor care if the world read;
Who look upon them as they ought to do.

At least for this I cannot spare its vanity.

My muse hath bred, and still perhaps may breed, It was not envy-Adeline had none;

More foes by this same scrol: when I began Her place was far beyond it, and her mind :

it, I It was not scorn-which could not light on one Thought that it might turn out so—no. 1.5n0w it;

Whose greatest fault was leaving few to find : But still I am, or was, a pretty poet,


LXVII. The conference or congress (for it ended

What are the filicts on the victor's brow As congresses of late do) of the Lady

To these? They are rags or dust. Where is Adeline and Don Juan rather blended

the arch Some acids with the sweets-for she was heady; Which nodded to the nation's spoils below: But ere the matter could be marr'd or mended, Where the triumphal chariot's haughty "narch?

The silvery bell rang, not for dinner ready,' Gone to where victories must, like dinners, go. But for that hour, call'd half-hour, given to dress, Further I shall not follow the research; Though ladies' robes seem scant enough for less. But oh, ye modern heroes, with your cartridges, LXII.

When will your names lend lustre c'en to par. Great things were now to be achieved at table,

tridges ?

LXVIII. With massy plate for armour, knives and forks

Those truffles, too, are no bad accessories, For weapons ; but what Muse since Homer's able (His feasts are not the worst part of his works)

Follow'd by petits puits d'amour-a dish To draw up in array a single day-bill

Of which perhaps the cookery rather varies : Of modern dinners, where more mystery lurks

So every one may dress it to his wish, In soups or sauces, or a sole ragout,

According to the best of dictionaries,
Than witches, by-ches, or physicians brew?

Which encyclopedize both flesh and fish;

But even sans confitures, it no less true is
There was a goodly soupe à la bonne femme,

There's pretty picking in those petits puits. Though God knows whence it came from; there

LXIX. was, too,

The mind is lost in mighty contemplation A turbot, for relief of those who cram,

Of intellect, expanded on two courses ; Relieved with dindon a la Perigeux;

And indigestion's grand multiplication There also was the sinner that I am!

Requires arithmetic beyond my forces. How shall I get this gourmand stanza through ?-

Who would suppose, from Adam's simple ration, Soupe à la Beauveau, whose relief was dory,

That cookery could have called forth such Relieved itself by pork, for greater glory.


As form a science and a nomenclature,
But I must crowd all into one grand mess,

From out the commonest demands of nature ?
Or mass; for, should I stretch into detail,

LXX. My Muse would run much more into excess,

The glasses jingled, and the palates tingled ; Than when some squeamish people deem her The diners of celebrity dined well; frail.

The ladies with more moderation mingled But though a bonne vivante, I must confess

In the feast, pecking less than I can tell. Her stomach's not her peccant part: this tale, Also the younger men, too; for a springald However, doth require some slight resection,

Can't, like ripe age, in gourmandise excel ; Just to relieve her spirits from dejection.

But thinks less of good eating than the whisper LXV.

(When seated next him) of some pretty lisper. Fowls à la Condé, slices eke of salmon,

With sauces Genevoises, and haunch of venison ; Alas! I must leave undescribed the gibier,
Wines, too, which might again have slain young The salmi, the consommé, the purée,

All which I use to make my rhymes run glibber, A man like whom I hope we shan't see many Than could roast beef in our rough John Bull soon,

way: They also set a glazed Westphalian ham on,

I must not introduce even a spare-rib here: Whereon Apicius would bestow his benison:

• Bubble and squeak'would spoil my liquid lay; And then there was champagne, with foaming But I have dined, and must forego, alas, whirls,

The chaste description even of a bécasse,
As white as Cleopatra's melted pearls.


And fruits, and ice, and all that art refines
Then there was God knows what à l'Allemande, From nature, for the service of the gout-
A l'Espagnole, timballe, and salpicon

Taste or the gout-pronounce it as inclines With things I can't withstand or understand,

Your stomach : ere you dine, the French will do; Though swallow'd with much zest, upon the

whole; And entremets to piddle with, at hand,

transplantation of cherries (which he first brought

into Europe), and the nomenclature of soine very Gently to lull down the subsiding soul;

good dishes; and I am not sure that (barring indigesWhile great Lucullus'* robe triıımphale muffles lion) he has not done more service to mankind by his (There's fame) young partridge fillets, deck'd with weigh against a bloody laurel: besides, he has con

cookery than by his conquests. A cherry-tree may truffles.

trived to earn celebrity from both.

* Petits puits d'amour garnis des confitures, a • A dish à la Lucullus. This hero, who conquered classical and well-known dish for part of the Aank of thc East, has left his more extended celebrity to the a second course.

But after, there are sometimes certain signs

Because it sometimes, as I've seen or read it, Which prove plain English truer of the two.

Both in the case of lover and of friend, Hast ever had the gout? I have not had it- Will pique a gentleman, for his own credit, But I may have; and you, too, reader, dread it. To bring what was a jest to a serious end:

For all men prophecy what is or was,

And hate those who wont let them come to pass.
The simple olives, best allies of wine,
Must I pass over in my bill of fare?

LXXX. I must, although a favourite plat of mine

Juan was drawn thus into some attentions, In Spain, and Lucca, Athens, everywhere.

Slight but select, and just enough to express, On them and bread 'twas oft iny luck to dine,

To females of conspicuous comprehensions, The grass my table-cloth, in open air,

That he would rather make them more than less On Sunium or Hymettus, like Diogenes,

Aurora, at the last (so history mentions, Of whom half my philosophy the progeny is.

Though probably much less a fact than guess). LXXIV.

So far relax'd her thoughts from their sweet prison, Amidst this tumult of fish, flesh, and fowl,

As once or twice to smile, if not to listen. And vegetables, all in masquerade,

LXXXI. The guests were placed according to their roll; From answering, she began to question : this But various as the various meats display'd :

With her was rare ; and Adeline, who as yet Don Juan sat next an à l'Espagnole,

Thought her predictions went not much an iss, No damsel, but a dish, as hath been said;

Began to dread she'd thaw to a coquette-But so far like a lady, that 'twas drest

So very difficult, they say, it is Superbly, and contain'd a world of zest,

To keep extremes from inecting, when once set

In motion; but she here too much refined -
By some odd chance, too, he was placed between

Aurora's spirit was not of that kind.
Aurora and the Lady Adeline

LXXX. A situation difficult, I ween,

But Juan had a sort of winning way, For man therein, with eyes and heart, to dine. A proud humility, if such there be, Also the conference which we have seen,

Which show'd such deference to what females say, Was not such as to encourage him to shine;

As if each charming word were a decree. For Adeline, addressing few words to him,

His tact, too, temper'd him from grave to gay, With two transcendent eyes seem'd to look And taught him when to be reserved or free: through him.

He had the art of drawing people out,

Without their seeing what he was about.
I sometimes almost think that eyes have ears :
This much is sure, that, out of earshot, things

Are somehow echoed to the pretty dears,

Aurora, who, in her indifference, Of which I can't tell whence their knowledge

Confounded him in common with the crowd springs;

Of flatterers, though she deem'd he had more sens Like that same mystic music of the spheres,

Than whispering foplings, or than witlings loud, Which no one hears, so loudly though it rings.

Commenced (from such slight things will great 'Tis wonderful how oft the sex have heard

commence) Long dialogues—which pass'd without a word !

To feel that Aattery which attracts the proud

Rather by deference than compliment,
Aurora sat with that indifference

And wins even by a delicate dissent.
Which piques a preux chevalier--as it ought;

LXXXIV. Of all offences, that's the worst offence,

And then he had good looks: that point was car. Which seems to hint you are not worth a thouglit. ried Now Juan, though no coxcomb in pretence,

Nem.con. amongst the women, which I grieve Was not exactly pleased to be so caught,

To say leads oft to crim. con, with the married Like a good ship entangled among ice,

A case which to the juries we may leave, And after so much excellent advice.

Since with digressions we too long have tarried. LXXVIII.

Now, though we know of old that looks deceive, To his gay nothings nothing was replied,

And always have done, somehow these good looks Or something which was nothing, as urbanity

Make more impressions than the best of books. Required. Aurora scarcely look'd aside,

LXXXV. Nor even smiled enough for any vanity.

Aurora, who look'd more on books than faces, The devil was in the girl! Could it be pride ?

Was very young, although so very sage; Or modesty, or absence, or inanity!

Admiring more Minerva than the Graces, Heaven knows! But Adeline's malicious eyes

Especially upon a printed page.
Sparkled with her successful prophecies,

But Virtue's self, with all her tightest laces,

Has not the natural stays of strict old age;
And look'd as much as if to say, 'I said it ;'

And Socrates, that model of ali duty, A kind of triumph I'll not recommend,

Own'd to a penchant, though discreet, for beauty



In politics my duty is to show Jolin And girls of sixteen are thus far Socratic;

Bull something of the lower world's condition.' But innocently so, as Socrates:

It makes my blood boit like the springs of Hecla And really, if the sage sublime and Attic

To see men let these scoundrel sovereigns break At seventy years had phantasies like these,


Which Plato in his dialogues dramatic
Has shown, I know not why they should dis-

But politics, and policy, and piety,

Are topics which I sometimes introduce, In virgins-always in a modest way,

Not only for the sake of their variety,

But as subservient to a moral use;
Obserye ; for that with me's a sine que.

Because my business is to dress society,

And stuff with sage that very verdant goose; Also observe that, like the great Lord Coke (See Littleton), whene'er I have express'd

And now, that we inay furnish with some matter Opinions two, which at first sight may look

Tastes, we are going to try the supernatural. Twin opposites, the second is the best.

XCIV. Perhaps I have a third, too, in a nook,

And now I will give up all argument ; Or none at all-which seems a sorry jest;

And positively henceforth no temptation But if a writer should be quite consistent,

Shall 'fool me to the top up of my bent.'*
How could he possibly show things existent?

Yes, I'll begin a thorough reformation.

Indeed, I never knew what people meant,
If people contradict themselves, can I

By dreaming that my Muse's conversation Help contradicting them, and everybody,

Was dangerous : I think she is as harınless Even my veracious self? But that's a lie:

As some who labour more, and yet may charmless. I never did so, never will-how should I?

XcV. He who doubts all things, nothing can deny :

Grim reader, did you ever see a ghost? Truth's fountains may be clear-her streams are

No; but you've heard- I understand-be dumb ! muddy,

And don't regret the time you may have lost, And cut through such canals of contradiction,

For you have got that pleasure still to come; That she must often navigate o'er fiction.

And do not think I mean to sneer at most

Of these things, or by ridicule benumb
Apologue, fable, poesy, and parable

That source of the sublime and the mysterious : Are false, but may be render'd also true,

For certain reasons, my belief is serious. By those who sow them in a land that's arable. 'Tis wonderful what fable will not do !

XCVI. 'Tis said it makes reality more bearable ;

Serious? You laugh-you may: that will I not. But what's reality? Who has its clue ?

My smiles must be sincere or not at all, Philosophy? No: she too much rejects.

I say I do believe a haunted spot Religion? Yes; but which of all her sects?

Exists and where? That shall I not recall,

Because I'd rather it should be forgot :

•Shadows the soul of Richard' may appal. Some millions must be wrong, that's pretty clear:

In short, upon that subject I've some qualms very Perhaps it may turn out that all were right.

Like those of the philosopher of Malmsbury.t God help us! Since we've need, on our career, To keep our holy beacons always bright,

XCVII. 'Tis time that some new prophet should appear, The night (I sing by night-sometimes an owl, Or old ndulge man with a second sight.

And now and then a nightingale) is dim; Opinions wear out in soine thousand years,

And the loud shriek of sage Minerva's fowl
Without a small refreshment from the spheres.

Rattles around me her discordant hymn :

Old portraits from old walls upon me scowl-
But here again, why will I thus entangle

I wish to heaven they would not look so grim; Myself with metaphysics ? None can liate

The dying embers dwindle in the grateSo much as I do any kind of wrangle;

I think, too, that I have sate up too late :
And yet, such is my folly or my fate,

I always knock my head against some angle,
About the present, past, or future state;

And therefore, though 'tis by no means my way

To rhyme at noon-when I have other things Yet I wish well to Trojan and to Tyrian,

To think of, if I ever think I say
For I was bred a moderate Presbyterian.

I feel some chilly midnight shudderings,

And prudently postpone until mid-day
But though I am a temperate theologian,

Treating a topic which, alas, but brings
And also meek as a metaphysician,
Impartial between Tyrian and Trojan,
As Eldon on a lunatic commission,

* Hamlet, act iii. scene 2.
+ Hobbes, who, doubting of his own soul, paid that

compliment to the souls of other people as to decline • Subauditur .non,' omitted for the sake of euphony. their visits, of which he had some apprehension.

Shadows ;-but you must be in my condition,

How little do we know that which we are ! Before you learn to call this superstition,

How less what we may be! The eternal surge XCIX.

Of time and tide rolls on, and bears afar Between two worlds life hovers like a star,

Our bubbles: as the old burst, new emerge, 'Twixt night and morn, upon the horizon's Lash'd from the foam of ages; while the graves verge:

Of empires heave but like some passing waves.



i. THE antique Persians taught three useful things,

To draw the bow, to ride, and speak the truth. This was the mode of Cyrus, best of kings

A mode adopted since by modern youth.
Bows have they, generally with two strings:

Horses they ride without remorse or ruth :
At speaking truth perhaps they are less clever,
But draw the long bow better now than ever.

The cause of this effect, or this defect--

For this etfect defective comes by cause't-
Is what I have not leisure to inspect;

But this I must say in my own applause,
Of all the Muses that I recollect,

Whate'cr may be her follies or her flaws
In some things, mine's beyond all contradiction
The most sincere that ever dealt in fiction,

And as she treats all things, and ne'er retreats

From anything, this epic will contain
A wilderness of the most rare conceits,

Which you might elsewhere hope to find in vain. 'Tis true there be some bitters with the sweets,

Yet mix'd so slightly, that you can't complain,
But wonder they so sew are, since my tale is
De rebus cunctis et quibusdam aliis.'

But of all truths which she lias told, the most

True is that which she is about tell.
I said it was a story of a ghost-

What then? I only know it so berell. Have you explored the liinits of the coast,

Where all the dwellers of the earth must dwell! 'Tis time to strike such puny doubters dumb as The sceptics who would not believe Columbus.

Some people would impose now with authority,

Turpin's or Monmouth Geoffry's Chronicle ;
Men whose historical superiority

Is always greatest at a miracle.
But Saint Augustine has the great priority,

Who bids all inen believe the impossible, Because 'lis so. Who nibble, scribble, quibble, he Quiets at once with 'quia impossibile.'

And therefore mortals cavil not at all:

Believe:-if'tis improbable, you must;
And if it is impossible, you shall :

'Tis always best to take things upon trust.

I do not speak profanely, to recall

Those holier mysteries which the wise and just
Receive as gospel, and which grow more rooted,
As all truths must, the more they are disputed:

I merely mean to say what Johnson said,

That, in the course of some six thousand years,
All nations have believed that, from the dead,

A visitant at intervals appears.
And what is strangest upon this strange head,

Is that, whatever bar the reason rears 'Gainst such belief, there's something stronger still In its behalf, let those deny who will.

The dinner and the soirée, too, were done :

The supper, tco, discuss'd, the daines admired: The banqueteers had dropp'd off one by one

The song was silent and the dance expired: The last thin petticoats were vanish'd, gone

Like fleecy clouds into the sky retired;
And nothing brighter gleam'd through the saloon,
Than dying tapers-and the peeping moon.

The evaporation of a joyous day,

Is like the last glass of champagne, without
The foam which made its virgin bumper gay;

Or like a system coupled with a doubt; Or like a soda bottle, when its spray

Has sparkled and let half its spirit out;
Or like a billow, left by storms behind,
Without the animation of the wind :

Or like an opiate, which brings troubled rest,

Or none;--or like-like nothing that I know,
Except itself ;-such is the human breast :

A thing, of which similitudes can show
No real likeness-like the old Tyrian vest

Dyed purple, nonc at present can tell how,
If from a shell-fish or from cochineal,
So perish every tyrant's robe, piecemeal !

But next to dressing for a rout or ball,

Undressing is a woe: our robe de chambre
May sit like that of Nessus, and recall (amber.

Thoughts quite as yellow, but less clear than
Titus exclaim'd, .I've lost a day! Of all

The nights and days most people can remember (I've had of both, some not to be disdain'd). I wish they'd state how many they have gain d.

• The composition of the old Tyrian purple, whe ther from a shell-fish or from cochineal, or from kermes, is still an article of dispute; and even its colour-sone say purple, others scarlet : I say nothing

* Xenophon, Cyrop. + Hamit, act ii, scene B,

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