Don Juan: CANTO THE FIFTH
I
- When amatory poets sing their loves
- In liquid lines mellifluously bland,
- And pair their rhymes as Venus yokes her doves,
- They little think what mischief is in hand;
- The greater their success the worse it proves,
- As Ovid's verse may give to understand;
- Even Petrarch's self, if judged with due severity,
- Is the Platonic pimp of all posterity.
II
- I therefore do denounce all amorous writing,
- Except in such a way as not to attract;
- Plain -- simple -- short, and by no means inviting,
- But with a moral to each error tack'd,
- Form'd rather for instructing than delighting,
- And with all passions in their turn attack'd;
- Now, if my Pegasus should not be shod ill,
- This poem will become a moral model.
III
- The European with the Asian shore
- Sprinkled with palaces; the ocean stream [*]
- Here and there studded with a seventy-four;
- Sophia's cupola with golden gleam;
- The cypress groves; Olympus high and hoar;
- The twelve isles, and the more than I could dream,
- Far less describe, present the very view
- Which charm'd the charming Mary Montagu.
IV
- I have a passion for the name of "Mary,"
- For once it was a magic sound to me;
- And still it half calls up the realms of fairy,
- Where I beheld what never was to be;
- All feelings changed, but this was last to vary,
- A spell from which even yet I am not quite free:
- But I grow sad -- and let a tale grow cold,
- Which must not be pathetically told.
V
- The wind swept down the Euxine, and the wave
- Broke foaming o'er the blue Symplegades;
- 'T is a grand sight from off the Giant's Grave [*]
- To watch the progress of those rolling seas
- Between the Bosphorus, as they lash and lave
- Europe and Asia, you being quite at ease;
- There's not a sea the passenger e'er pukes in,
- Turns up more dangerous breakers than the Euxine.
VI
- 'T was a raw day of Autumn's bleak beginning,
- When nights are equal, but not so the days;
- The Parcae then cut short the further spinning
- Of seamen's fates, and the loud tempests raise
- The waters, and repentance for past sinning
- In all, who o'er the great deep take their ways:
- They vow to amend their lives, and yet they don't;
- Because if drown'd, they can't -- if spared, they won't.
VII
- A crowd of shivering slaves of every nation,
- And age, and sex, were in the market ranged;
- Each bevy with the merchant in his station:
- Poor creatures! their good looks were sadly changed.
- All save the blacks seem'd jaded with vexation,
- From friends, and home, and freedom far estranged;
- The negroes more philosophy display'd, --
- Used to it, no doubt, as eels are to be flay'd.
VIII
- Juan was juvenile, and thus was full,
- As most at his age are, of hope and health;
- Yet I must own he looked a little dull,
- And now and then a tear stole down by stealth;
- Perhaps his recent loss of blood might pull
- His spirit down; and then the loss of wealth,
- A mistress, and such comfortable quarters,
- To be put up for auction amongst Tartars,
IX
- Were things to shake a stoic; ne'ertheless,
- Upon the whole his carriage was serene:
- His figure, and the splendour of his dress,
- Of which some gilded remnants still were seen,
- Drew all eyes on him, giving them to guess
- He was above the vulgar by his mien;
- And then, though pale, he was so very handsome;
- And then -- they calculated on his ransom.
X
- Like a backgammon board the place was dotted
- With whites and blacks, in groups on show for sale,
- Though rather more irregularly spotted:
- Some bought the jet, while others chose the pale.
- It chanced amongst the other people lotted,
- A man of thirty rather stout and hale,
- With resolution in his dark grey eye,
- Next Juan stood, till some might choose to buy.
XI
- He had an English look; that is, was square
- In make, of a complexion white and ruddy,
- Good teeth, with curling rather dark brown hair,
- And, it might be from thought or toil or study,
- An open brow a little mark'd with care:
- One arm had on a bandage rather bloody;
- And there he stood with such sang-froid, that greater
- Could scarce be shown even by a mere spectator.
XII
- But seeing at his elbow a mere lad,
- Of a high spirit evidently, though
- At present weigh'd down by a doom which had
- O'erthrown even men, he soon began to show
- A kind of blunt compassion for the sad
- Lot of so young a partner in the woe,
- Which for himself he seem'd to deem no worse
- Than any other scrape, a thing of course.
XIII
- "My boy!" said he, "amidst this motley crew
- Of Georgians, Russians, Nubians, and what not,
- All ragamuffins differing but in hue,
- With whom it is our luck to cast our lot,
- The only gentlemen seem I and you;
- So let us be acquainted, as we ought:
- If I could yield you any consolation,
- 'T would give me pleasure. -- Pray, what is your nation?"
XIV
- When Juan answer'd -- "Spanish!" he replied,
- "I thought, in fact, you could not be a Greek;
- Those servile dogs are not so proudly eyed:
- Fortune has play'd you here a pretty freak,
- But that's her way with all men, till they're tried;
- But never mind, -- she'll turn, perhaps, next week;
- She has served me also much the same as you,
- Except that I have found it nothing new."
XV
- "Pray, sir," said Juan, "if I may presume,
- What brought you here?" -- "Oh! nothing very rare --
- Six Tartars and a drag-chain." -- "To this doom
- But what conducted, if the question's fair,
- Is that which I would learn." -- "I served for some
- Months with the Russian army here and there,
- And taking lately, by Suwarrow's bidding,
- A town, was ta'en myself instead of Widdin."
XVI
- "Have you no friends?" -- "I had -- but, by God's blessing,
- Have not been troubled with them lately. Now
- I have answer'd all your questions without pressing,
- And you an equal courtesy should show.'
- "Alas!" said Juan, "'t were a tale distressing,
- And long besides." -- "Oh! if 't is really so,
- You're right on both accounts to hold your tongue;
- A sad tale saddens doubly, when't is long.
XVII
- "But droop not: Fortune at your time of life,
- Although a female moderately fickle,
- Will hardly leave you (as she's not your wife)
- For any length of days in such a pickle.
- To strive, too, with our fate were such a strife
- As if the corn-sheaf should oppose the sickle:
- Men are the sport of circumstances, when
- The circumstances seem the sport of men."
XVIII
- "'T is not," said Juan, "for my present doom
- I mourn, but for the past; -- I loved a maid:" --
- He paused, and his dark eye grew full of gloom;
- A single tear upon his eyelash staid
- A moment, and then dropp'd; "but to resume,
- 'T is not my present lot, as I have said,
- Which I deplore so much; for I have borne
- Hardships which have the hardiest overworn,
XIX
- "On the rough deep. But this last blow --" and here
- He stopp'd again, and turn'd away his face.
- "Ay," quoth his friend, "I thought it would appear
- That there had been a lady in the case;
- And these are things which ask a tender tear,
- Such as I, too, would shed if in your place:
- I cried upon my first wife's dying day,
- And also when my second ran away:
XX
- "My third --" -- "Your third!" quoth Juan, turning round;
- "You scarcely can be thirty: have you three?"
- "No -- only two at present above ground:
- Surely 't is nothing wonderful to see
- One person thrice in holy wedlock bound!"
- "Well, then, your third," said Juan; "what did she?
- She did not run away, too, -- did she, sir?"
- "No, faith." -- "What then?" -- "I ran away from her."
XXI
- "You take things coolly, sir," said Juan. "Why,"
- Replied the other, "what can a man do?
- There still are many rainbows in your sky,
- But mine have vanish'd. All, when life is new,
- Commence with feelings warm, and prospects high;
- But time strips our illusions of their hue,
- And one by one in turn, some grand mistake
- Casts off its bright skin yearly like the snake.
XXII
- "'T is true, it gets another bright and fresh,
- Or fresher, brighter; but the year gone through,
- This skin must go the way, too, of all flesh,
- Or sometimes only wear a week or two; --
- Love's the first net which spreads its deadly mesh;
- Ambition, Avarice, Vengeance, Glory, glue
- The glittering lime-twigs of our latter days,
- Where still we flutter on for pence or praise."
XXIII
- "All this is very fine, and may be true,"
- Said Juan; "but I really don't see how
- It betters present times with me or you."
- "No?" quoth the other; "yet you will allow
- By setting things in their right point of view,
- Knowledge, at least, is gain'd; for instance, now,
- We know what slavery is, and our disasters
- May teach us better to behave when masters."
XXIV
- "Would we were masters now, if but to try
- Their present lessons on our Pagan friends here,"
- Said Juan, -- swallowing a heart-burning sigh:
- "Heaven help the scholar whom his fortune sends here!"
- "Perhaps we shall be one day, by and by,"
- Rejoin'd the other, when our bad luck mends here;
- "Meantime (yon old black eunuch seems to eye us)
- I wish to G-d that somebody would buy us.
XXV
- "But after all, what is our present state?
- 'T is bad, and may be better -- all men's lot:
- Most men are slaves, none more so than the great,
- To their own whims and passions, and what not;
- Society itself, which should create
- Kindness, destroys what little we had got:
- To feel for none is the true social art
- Of the world's stoics -- men without a heart."
XXVI
- Just now a black old neutral personage
- Of the third sex stept up, and peering over
- The captives, seem'd to mark their looks and age,
- And capabilities, as to discover
- If they were fitted for the purposed cage:
- No lady e'er is ogled by a lover,
- Horse by a blackleg, broadcloth by a tailor,
- Fee by a counsel, felon by a jailor,
XXVII
- As is a slave by his intended bidder.
- 'T is pleasant purchasing our fellow-creatures;
- And all are to be sold, if you consider
- Their passions, and are dext'rous; some by features
- Are bought up, others by a warlike leader,
- Some by a place -- as tend their years or natures;
- The most by ready cash -- but all have prices,
- From crowns to kicks, according to their vices.
XXVIII
- The eunuch, having eyed them o'er with care,
- Turn'd to the merchant, and begun to bid
- First but for one, and after for the pair;
- They haggled, wrangled, swore, too -- so they did!
- As though they were in a mere Christian fair
- Cheapening an ox, an ass, a lamb, or kid;
- So that their bargain sounded like a battle
- For this superior yoke of human cattle.
XXIX
- At last they settled into simple grumbling,
- And pulling out reluctant purses, and
- Turning each piece of silver o'er, and tumbling
- Some down, and weighing others in their hand,
- And by mistake sequins with paras jumbling,
- Until the sum was accurately scann'd,
- And then the merchant giving change, and signing
- Receipts in full, began to think of dining.
XXX
- I wonder if his appetite was good?
- Or, if it were, if also his digestion?
- Methinks at meals some odd thoughts might intrude,
- And conscience ask a curious sort of question,
- About the right divine how far we should
- Sell flesh and blood. When dinner has opprest one,
- I think it is perhaps the gloomiest hour
- Which turns up out of the sad twenty-four.
XXXI
- Voltaire says "No:" he tells you that Candide
- Found life most tolerable after meals;
- He's wrong -- unless man were 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 ('t was 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 -- 't was eight o'clock scarce past --
- And, running out as fast as I was able,
- I found the military commandant
- Stretch'd in the street, and able scarce to pant. [*]
XXXIV
- Poor fellow! for some reason, surely bad,
- They had slain him with five slugs; and left him there
- 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 ad
- 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,
- So calm; though pierced through stomach, heart, and liver,
- 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 slept: --
- "But yesterday and who had mightier breath?
- 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 dumb --
- And 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,
- Should now be butcher'd in a civic alley.
XXXVIII
- The scars of his old wounds were near his new,
- Those honourable 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;
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 caïque was brought [*]
- Up in a little creek below a wall
- O'ertopp'd with cypresses, dark-green and tall.
XLI
- Here their conductor tapping at the wicket
- Of a small iron door, 't was 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 dosing 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: -- 't was 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 -- 't were 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.
XLV
- "We must be near some place of man's abode; --
- For the old negro's confidence in creeping,
- With his two captives, by so queer a road,
- Shows that he thinks his friends have not been sleeping;
- A single cry would bring them all abroad:
- 'T is therefore better looking before leaping --
- And there, you see, this turn has brought us through,
- By Jove, a noble palace! -- lighted too."
XLVI
- It was indeed a wide extensive building
- Which open'd on their view, and o'er the front
- There seem'd to be besprent a deal of gilding
- And various hues, as is the Turkish wont, --
- A gaudy taste; for they are little skill'd in
- The arts of which these lands were once the font:
- Each villa on the Bosphorus looks a screen
- New painted, or a pretty opera-scene.
XLVII
- And nearer as they came, a genial savour
- Of certain stews, and roast-meats, and pilaus,
- Things which in hungry mortals' eyes find favour,
- Made Juan in his harsh intentions pause,
- And put himself upon his good behaviour:
- His friend, too, adding a new saving clause,
- Said, "In Heaven's name let's get some supper now,
- And then I'm with you, if you're for a row."
XLVIII
- Some talk of an appeal unto some passion,
- Some to men's feelings, others to their reason;
- The last of these was never much the fashion,
- For reason thinks all reasoning out of season.
- Some speakers whine, and others lay the lash on,
- But more or less continue still to tease on,
- With arguments according to their "forte;"
- But no one dreams of ever being short. --
XLIX
- But I digress: of all appeals, -- although
- I grant the power of pathos, and of gold,
- Of beauty, flattery, threats, a shilling, -- no
- Method's more sure at moments to take hold
- Of the best feelings of mankind, which grow
- More tender, as we every day behold,
- Than that all-softening, overpowering knell,
- The tocsin of the soul -- the dinner-bell.
L
- Turkey contains no bells, and yet men dine;
- And Juan and his friend, albeit they heard
- No Christian knoll to table, saw no line
- Of lackeys usher to the feast prepared,
- Yet smelt roast-meat, beheld a huge fire shine,
- And cooks in motion with their clean arms bared,
- And gazed around them to the left and right
- With the prophetic eye of appetite.
LI
- And giving up all notions of resistance,
- They follow'd close behind their sable guide,
- Who little thought that his own crack'd existence
- Was on the point of being set aside:
- He motion'd them to stop at some small distance,
- And knocking at the gate, 't was open'd wide,
- And a magnificent large hall display'd
- The Asian pomp of Ottoman parade.
LII
- I won't describe; description is my forte,
- But every fool describes in these bright days
- His wondrous journey to some foreign court,
- And spawns his quarto, and demands your praise --
- Death to his publisher, to him 't is sport;
- While Nature, tortured twenty thousand ways,
- Resigns herself with exemplary patience
- To guide-books, rhymes, tours, sketches, illustrations.
LIII
- Along this hall, and up and down, some, squatted
- Upon their hams, were occupied at chess;
- Others in monosyllable talk chatted,
- And some seem'd much in love with their own dress.
- And divers smoked superb pipes decorated
- With amber mouths of greater price or less;
- And several strutted, others slept, and some
- Prepared for supper with a glass of rum. [*]
LIV
- As the black eunuch enter'd with his brace
- Of purchased Infidels, some raised their eyes
- A moment without slackening from their pace;
- But those who sate ne'er stirr'd in anywise:
- One or two stared the captives in the face,
- Just as one views a horse to guess his price;
- Some nodded to the negro from their station,
- But no one troubled him with conversation.
LV
- He leads them through the hall, and, without stopping,
- On through a farther range of goodly rooms,
- Splendid but silent, save in one, where, dropping,[*]
- A marble fountain echoes through the glooms
- Of night which robe the chamber, or where popping
- Some female head most curiously presumes
- To thrust its black eyes through the door or lattice,
- As wondering what the devil a noise that is.
LVI
- Some faint lamps gleaming from the lofty walls
- Gave light enough to hint their farther way,
- But not enough to show the imperial halls,
- In all the flashing of their full array;
- Perhaps there's nothing -- I'll not say appals,
- But saddens more by night as well as day,
- Than an enormous room without a soul
- To break the lifeless splendour of the whole.
LVII
- Two or three seem so little, one seems nothing:
- In deserts, forests, crowds, or by the shore,
- There solitude, we know, has her full growth in
- The spots which were her realms for evermore;
- But in a mighty hall or gallery, both in
- More modern buildings and those built of yore,
- A kind of death comes o'er us all alone,
- Seeing what's meant for many with but one.
LVIII
- A neat, snug study on a winter's night,
- A book, friend, single lady, or a glass
- Of claret, sandwich, and an appetite,
- Are things which make an English evening pass;
- Though certes by no means so grand a sight
- As is a theatre lit up by gas.
- I pass my evenings in long galleries solely,
- And that's the reason I'm so melancholy.
LIX
- Alas! man makes that great which makes him little:
- I grant you in a church 't is 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 --
- And huge tombs worse -- mankind, since Adam fell:
- Methinks the story of the tower of Babel
- Might teach them this much better than I'm able.
LX
- Babel was Nimrod's hunting-box, and then
- A town of gardens, walls, and wealth amazing,
- Where Nabuchadonosor, king of men,
- Reign'd, till one summer's day he took to grazing,
- And Daniel tamed the lions in their den,
- The people's awe and admiration raising;
- 'T was famous, too, for Thisbe and for Pyramus,
- And the calumniated queen Semiramis. [*]
LXI
- That injured Queen by chroniclers so coarse
- Has been accused (I doubt not by conspiracy)
- Of an improper friendship for her horse
- (Love, like religion, sometimes runs to heresy):
- This monstrous tale had probably its source
- (For such exaggerations here and there I see)
- In writing "Courser" by mistake for "Courier:"
- I wish the case could come before a jury here.
LXII
- But to resume, -- should there be (what may not
- Be in these days?) some infidels, who don't,
- Because they can't find out the very spot
- Of that same Babel, or because they won't
- (Though Claudius Rich, Esquire, some bricks has got,
- And written lately two memoirs upon't),
- Believe the Jews, those unbelievers, who
- Must be believed, though they believe not you,
LXIII
- Yet let them think that Horace has exprest
- Shortly and sweetly the masonic folly
- Of those, forgetting the great place of rest,
- Who give themselves to architecture wholly;
- We know where things and men must end at best:
- A moral (like all morals) melancholy,
- And "Et sepulchri immemor struis domos"
- Shows that we build when we should but entomb us.
LXIV
- At last they reach'd a quarter most retired,
- Where echo woke 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,
- Which puzzled Nature much to know what Art meant.
LXV
- It seem'd, however, but to open on
- A range or suite of further chambers, which
- Might lead to heaven knows where; but in this one
- The movables were prodigally rich:
- Sofas 't was half a sin to sit upon,
- So costly were they; carpets every stitch
- Of workmanship so rare, they made you wish
- You could glide o'er them like a golden fish.
LXVI
- The black, however, without hardly deigning
- A glance at that which wrapt the slaves in wonder,
- Trampled what they scarce trod for fear of staining,
- As if the milky way their feet was under
- With all its stars; and with a stretch attaining
- A certain press or cupboard niched in yonder --
- In that remote recess which you may see --
- Or if you don't the fault is not in me, --
LXVII
- I wish to be perspicuous; and the black,
- I say, unlocking the recess, pull'd forth
- A quantity of clothes fit for the back
- Of any Mussulman, whate'er his worth;
- And of variety there was no lack --
- And yet, though I have said there was no dearth,
- He chose himself to point out what he thought
- Most proper for the Christians he had bought.
LXVIII
- The suit he thought most suitable to each
- Was, for the elder and the stouter, first
- A Candiote cloak, which to the knee might reach,
- And trousers not so tight that they would burst,
- But such as fit an Asiatic breech;
- A shawl, whose folds in Cashmire had been nurst,
- Slippers of saffron, dagger rich and handy;
- In short, all things which form a Turkish Dandy.
LXIX
- While he was dressing, Baba, their black friend,
- Hinted the vast advantages which they
- Might probably attain both in the end,
- If they would but pursue the proper way
- Which fortune plainly seem'd to recommend;
- And then he added, that he needs must say,
- "'T would greatly tend to better their condition,
- If they would condescend to circumcision.
LXX
- "For his own part, he really should rejoice
- To see them true believers, but no less
- Would leave his proposition to their choice."
- The other, thanking him for this excess
- Of goodness, in thus leaving them a voice
- In such a trifle, scarcely could express
- "Sufficiently" (he said) "his approbation
- Of all the customs of this polish'd nation.
LXXI
- "For his own share -- he saw but small objection
- To so respectable an ancient rite;
- And, after swallowing down a slight refection,
- 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,
- But they as soon shall circumcise my head!
LXXII
- "Cut off a thousand heads, before--" -- "Now, pray,"
- Replied the other, "do not interrupt:
- You put me out in what I had to say.
- Sir! -- as I said, as soon as I have supt,
- I shall perpend if your proposal may
- Be such as I can properly accept;
- Provided always your great goodness still
- Remits the matter to our own free-will."
LXXIII
- Baba eyed Juan, and said, "Be so good
- As dress yourself-" and pointed out a suit
- In which a Princess with great pleasure would
- Array her limbs; but Juan standing mute,
- As not being in a masquerading mood,
- Gave it a slight kick with his Christian foot;
- And when the old negro told him to "Get ready,"
- Replied, "Old gentleman, I'm not a lady."
LXXIV
- "What you may be, I neither know nor care,"
- Said Baba; "but pray do as I desire:
- I have no more time nor many words to spare."
- "At least," said Juan, "sure I may enquire
- The cause of this odd travesty?" -- "Forbear,"
- Said Baba, "to be curious; 't will transpire,
- No doubt, in proper place, and time, and season:
- I have no authority to tell the reason."
LXXV
- "Then if I do," said Juan, "I'll be --" -- "Hold!"
- 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; but then there is a cause
- Why you should wear them." -- "What, though my soul loathes
- 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 trousers of flesh-colour'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
- Monarchs are less 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.
LXXX
- And now being femininely all array'd,
- With some small aid from scissors, paint, and tweezers,
- He look'd in almost all respects a maid,
- And Baba smilingly exclaim'd, "You see, sirs,
- A perfect transformation here display'd;
- And now, then, you must come along with me, sirs,
- That is -- the Lady:" clapping his hands twice,
- Four blacks were at his elbow in a trice.
LXXXI
- "You, sir," said Baba, nodding to the one,
- 'Will please to accompany those gentlemen
- To supper; but you, worthy Christian nun,
- Will follow me: no trifling, sir; for when
- I say a thing, it must at once be done.
- What fear you? think you this a lion's den?
- Why, 't is a palace; where the truly wise
- Anticipate the Prophet's paradise.
LXXXII
- "You fool! I tell you no one means you harm."
- "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.
- I yield thus far; but soon will break the charm
- If any take me for that which I seem:
- So that I trust for everybody's sake,
- That this disguise may lead to no mistake."
LXXXIII
- "Blockhead! come on, and see," quoth Baba; while
- Don Juan, turning to his comrade, who
- Though somewhat grieved, could scarce forbear a smile
- 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."
LXXXIV
- "Farewell!" said Juan: 'should we meet no more,
- I wish you a good appetite." -- "Farewell!"
- Replied the other; "though it grieves 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."
- "Nay," quoth the maid, "the Sultan's self shan't carry me,
- 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 lowers;
- 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 those 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 colour was not black, nor white, nor grey,
- But an extraneous mixture, which no pen
- Can trace, although perhaps the pencil may;
- They were mis-shapen pigmies, deaf and dumb --
- Monsters, 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 times --
- To 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,
- 'T would be as well, and (though there's not much in 't)
- 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
- "'T would be convenient; for these mutes have eyes
- Like needles, which may 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,
- Stitch'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 anything away,
- Object on object flash'd so bright and fast;
- A dazzling mass of gems, and gold, and glitter,
- Magnificently mingled in a litter.
XCIV
- Wealth had done wonders -- taste not much; such things
- Occur in Orient palaces, and even
- In the more chasten'd domes of Western kings
- (Of which I have also seen some six or seven),
- Where I can't say or gold or diamond flings
- Great 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 a 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
- Thus much however I may add, -- her years
- Were ripe, they might make six-and-twenty springs;
- 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 anything beyond.
C
- 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."
CI
- "Not to admire is all the art I know
- (Plain truth, dear Murray, needs few flowers of speech)
- To make men happy, or to keep them so"
- (So take it in the very words of Creech) --
- Thus Horace wrote we all know long ago;
- And thus Pope quotes the precept to re-teach
- From his translation; but had none admired,
- Would Pope have sung, or Horace been inspired?
CII
- Baba, when all the damsels were withdrawn,
- Motion'd to Juan to approach, and then
- A second time desired him to kneel down,
- And kiss the lady's foot; which maxim when
- He heard repeated, Juan with a frown
- Drew himself up to his full height again,
- And said, "It grieved him, but he could not stoop
- To any shoe, unless it shod the Pope."
CIII
- Baba, indignant at this ill-timed pride,
- Made fierce remonstrances, and then a threat
- He mutter'd (but the last was given aside)
- About a bow-string -- quite in vain; not yet
- Would Juan bend, though 't were to Mahomet's bride:
- There's nothing in the world like etiquette
- In kingly chambers or imperial halls,
- As also at the race and county balls.
CIV
- He stood like Atlas, with a world of words
- About his ears, and nathless would not bend:
- The blood of all his line's Castilian lords
- Boil'd in his veins, and rather than descend
- To stain his pedigree a thousand swords
- A thousand times of him had made an end;
- At length perceiving the "foot" could not stand,
- Baba proposed that he should kiss the hand.
CV
- Here was an honourable compromise,
- A half-way house of diplomatic rest,
- Where they might meet in much more peaceful guise;
- And Juan now his willingness exprest
- To use all fit and proper courtesies,
- Adding, that this was commonest and best,
- For through the South the custom still commands
- The gentleman to kiss the lady's hands.
CVI
- And he advanced, though with but a bad grace,
- Though on more thorough-bred or fairer fingers [*]
- No lips e'er left their transitory trace;
- On such as these the lip too fondly lingers,
- And for one kiss would fain imprint a brace,
- As you will see, if she you love shall bring hers
- In contact; and sometimes even a fair stranger's
- An almost twelvemonth's constancy endangers.
CVII
- The lady eyed him o'er and o'er, and bade
- Baba retire, which he obey'd in style,
- As if well used to the retreating trade;
- And taking hints in good part all the while,
- He whisper'd Juan not to be afraid,
- And looking on him with a sort of smile,
- Took leave, with such a face of satisfaction
- As good men wear who have done a virtuous action.
CVIII
- When he was gone, there was a sudden change:
- I know not what might be the lady's thought,
- But o'er her bright brow flash'd a tumult strange,
- And into her dear cheek the blood was brought,
- Blood-red as sunset summer clouds which range
- The verge of Heaven; and in her large eyes wrought,
- A mixture of sensations might be scann'd,
- Of half voluptuousness and half command.
CIX
- Her form had all the softness of her sex,
- Her features all the sweetness of the devil,
- When he put on the cherub to perplex
- Eve, and paved (God knows how) the road to evil;
- The sun himself was scarce more free from specks
- Than she from aught at which the eye could cavil;
- Yet, somehow, there was something somewhere wanting,
- As if she rather order'd than was granting.
CX
- Something imperial, or imperious, threw
- A chain o'er all she did; that is, a chain
- Was thrown as 't were about the neck of you, --
- And rapture's self will seem almost a pain
- With aught which looks like despotism in view:
- Our souls at least are free, and 't is in vain
- We would against them make the flesh obey --
- The spirit in the end will have its way.
CXI
- Her very smile was haughty, though so sweet;
- Her very nod was not an inclination;
- There was a self-will even in her small feet,
- As though they were quite conscious of her station --
- They trod as upon necks; and to complete
- Her state (it is the custom of her nation),
- A poniard deck'd her girdle, as the sign
- She was a sultan's bride (thank Heaven, not mine!).
CXII
- "To hear and to obey" had been from birth
- The law of all around her; to fulfill
- All phantasies which yielded joy or mirth,
- Had been her slaves' chief pleasure, as her will;
- Her blood was high, her beauty scarce of earth:
- Judge, then, if her caprices e'er stood still;
- Had she but been a Christian, I've a notion
- We should have found out the "perpetual motion."
CXIII
- Whate'er she saw and coveted was brought;
- Whate'er she did not see, if she supposed
- It might be seen, with diligence was sought,
- And when 't was found straightway the bargain closed;
- There was no end unto the things she bought,
- Nor to the trouble which her fancies caused;
- Yet even her tyranny had such a grace,
- The women pardon'd all except her face.
CXIV
- Juan, the latest of her whims, had caught
- Her eye in passing on his way to sale;
- She order'd him directly to be bought,
- And Baba, who had ne'er been known to fail
- In any kind of mischief to be wrought,
- At all such auctions knew how to prevail:
- She had no prudence, but he had; and this
- Explains the garb which Juan took amiss.
CXV
- His youth and features favour'd the disguise,
- And, should you ask how she, a sultan's bride,
- Could risk or compass such strange phantasies,
- This I must leave sultanas to decide:
- Emperors are only husbands in wives' eyes,
- And kings and consorts oft are mystified,
- As we may ascertain with due precision,
- Some by experience, others by tradition.
CXVI
- But to the main point, where we have been tending: --
- She now conceived all difficulties past,
- And deem'd herself extremely condescending
- When, being made her property at last,
- Without more preface, in her blue eyes blending
- Passion and power, a glance on him she cast,
- And merely saying, "Christian, canst thou love?"
- Conceived that phrase was quite enough to move.
CXVII
- And so it was, in proper time and place;
- But Juan, who had still his mind o'erflowing
- With Haidée's isle and soft Ionian face,
- Felt the warm blood, which in his face was glowing,
- Rush back upon his heart, which fill'd apace,
- And left his cheeks as pale as snowdrops blowing;
- These words went through his soul like Arab-spears,
- So that he spoke not, but burst into tears.
CXVIII
- She was a good deal shock'd; not shock'd at tears,
- For women shed and use them at their liking;
- But there is something when man's eye appears
- Wet, still more disagreeable and striking;
- A woman's tear-drop melts, a man's half sears,
- Like molten lead, as if you thrust a pike in
- His heart to force it out, for (to be shorter)
- To them 't is a relief, to us a torture.
CXIX
- And she would have consoled, but knew not how:
- Having no equals, nothing which had e'er
- Infected her with sympathy till now,
- And never having dreamt what 't was to bear
- Aught of a serious, sorrowing kind, although
- There might arise some pouting petty care
- To cross her brow, she wonder'd how so near
- Her eyes another's eye could shed a tear.
CXX
- But nature teaches more than power can spoil,
- And, when a strong although a strange sensation
- Moves -- female hearts are such a genial soil
- For kinder feelings, whatsoe'er their nation,
- They naturally pour the "wine and oil,"
- Samaritans in every situation;
- And thus Gulbeyaz, though she knew not why,
- Felt an odd glistening moisture in her eye.
CXXI
- But tears must stop like all things else; and soon
- Juan, who for an instant had been moved
- To such a sorrow by the intrusive tone
- Of one who dared to ask if "he had loved,"
- Call'd back the stoic to his eyes, which shone
- Bright with the very weakness he reproved;
- And although sensitive to beauty, he
- Felt most indignant still at not being free.
CXXII
- Gulbeyaz, for the first time in her days,
- Was much embarrass'd, never having met
- In all her life with aught save prayers and praise;
- And as she also risk'd her life to get
- Him whom she meant to tutor in love's ways
- Into a comfortable tete-a-tete,
- To lose the hour would make her quite a martyr,
- And they had wasted now almost a quarter.
CXXIII
- I also would suggest the fitting time
- To gentlemen in any such like case,
- That is to say in a meridian clime --
- With us there is more law given to the chase,
- But here a small delay forms a great crime:
- So recollect that the extremest grace
- Is just two minutes for your declaration --
- A moment more would hurt your reputation.
CXXIV
- Juan's was good; and might have been still better,
- But he had got Haidée into his head:
- However strange, he could not yet forget her,
- Which made him seem exceedingly ill-bred.
- Gulbeyaz, who look'd on him as her debtor
- For having had him to her palace led,
- Began to blush up to the eyes, and then
- Grow deadly pale, and then blush back again.
CXXV
- At length, in an imperial way, she laid
- Her hand on his, and bending on him eyes
- Which needed not an empire to persuade,
- Look'd into his for love, where none replies:
- Her brow grew black, but she would not upbraid,
- That being the last thing a proud woman tries;
- She rose, and pausing one chaste moment, threw
- Herself upon his breast, and there she grew.
CXXVI
- This was an awkward test, as Juan found,
- But he was steel'd by sorrow, wrath, and pride:
- With gentle force her white arms he unwound,
- And seated her all drooping by his side,
- Then rising haughtily he glanced around,
- And looking coldly in her face, he cried,
- "The prison'd eagle will not pair, nor I
- Serve a Sultana's sensual phantasy.
CXXVII
- "Thou ask'st if I can love? be this the proof
- How much I have loved -- that I love not thee!
- In this vile garb, the distaff, web, and woof,
- Were fitter for me: Love is for the free!
- I am not dazzled by this splendid roof,
- Whate'er thy power, and great it seems to be;
- Heads bow, knees bend, eyes watch around a throne,
- And hands obey -- our hearts are still our own."
CXXVIII
- This was a truth to us extremely trite;
- Not so to her, who ne'er had heard such things:
- She deem'd her least command must yield delight,
- Earth being only made for queens and kings.
- If hearts lay on the left side or the right
- She hardly knew, to such perfection brings
- Legitimacy its born votaries, when
- Aware of their due royal rights o'er men.
CXXIX
- Besides, as has been said, she was so fair
- As even in a much humbler lot had made
- A kingdom or confusion anywhere,
- And also, as may be presumed, she laid
- Some stress on charms, which seldom are, if e'er,
- By their possessors thrown into the shade:
- She thought hers gave a double "right divine;"
- And half of that opinion's also mine.
CXXX
- Remember, or (if you can not) imagine,
- Ye, who have kept your chastity when young,
- While some more desperate dowager has been waging
- Love with you, and been in the dog-days stung
- By your refusal, recollect her raging!
- Or recollect all that was said or sung
- On such a subject; then suppose the face
- Of a young downright beauty in this case.
CXXXI
- Suppose, -- but you already have supposed,
- The spouse of Potiphar, the Lady Booby,
- Phaedra, and all which story has disclosed
- Of good examples; pity that so few by
- Poets and private tutors are exposed,
- To educate -- ye youth of Europe -- you by!
- But when you have supposed the few we know,
- You can't suppose Gulbeyaz' angry brow.
CXXXII
- A tigress robb'd of young, a lioness,
- Or any interesting beast of prey,
- Are similes at hand for the distress
- Of ladies who can not have their own way;
- But though my turn will not be served with less,
- These don't express one half what I should say:
- For what is stealing young ones, few or many,
- To cutting short their hopes of having any?
CXXXIII
- The love of offspring's nature's general law,
- From tigresses and cubs to ducks and ducklings;
- There's nothing whets the beak, or arms the claw
- Like an invasion of their babes and sucklings;
- And all who have seen a human nursery, saw
- How mothers love their children's squalls and chucklings;
- This strong extreme effect (to tire no longer
- Your patience) shows the cause must still be stronger.
CXXXIV
- If I said fire flash'd from Gulbeyaz' eyes,
- 'T were nothing -- for her eyes flash'd always fire;
- Or said her cheeks assumed the deepest dyes,
- I should but bring disgrace upon the dyer,
- So supernatural was her passion's rise;
- For ne'er till now she knew a check'd desire:
- Even ye who know what a check'd woman is
- (Enough, God knows!) would much fall short of this.
CXXXV
- Her rage was but a minute's, and 't was well --
- A moment's more had slain her; but the while
- It lasted 't was like a short glimpse of hell:
- Nought's more sublime than energetic bile,
- Though horrible to see yet grand to tell,
- Like ocean warring 'gainst a rocky isle;
- And the deep passions flashing through her form
- Made her a beautiful embodied storm.
CXXXVI
- A vulgar tempest 't were to a typhoon
- To match a common fury with her rage,
- And yet she did not want to reach the moon,
- Like moderate Hotspur on the immortal page;
- Her anger pitch'd into a lower tune,
- Perhaps the fault of her soft sex and age --
- Her wish was but to "kill, kill, kill," like Lear's,
- And then her thirst of blood was quench'd in tears.
CXXXVII
- A storm it raged, and like the storm it pass'd,
- Pass'd without words -- in fact she could not speak;
- And then her sex's shame broke in at last,
- A sentiment till then in her but weak,
- But now it flow'd in natural and fast,
- As water through an unexpected leak;
- For she felt humbled -- and humiliation
- Is sometimes good for people in her station
CXXXVIII
- It teaches them that they are flesh and blood,
- It also gently hints to them that others,
- Although of clay, are yet not quite of mud;
- That urns and pipkins are but fragile brothers,
- And works of the same pottery, bad or good,
- Though not all born of the same sires and mothers:
- It teaches -- Heaven knows only what it teaches,
- But sometimes it may mend, and often reaches.
CXXXIX
- Her first thought was to cut off Juan's head;
- Her second, to cut only his -- acquaintance;
- Her third, to ask him where he had been bred;
- Her fourth, to rally him into repentance;
- Her fifth, to call her maids and go to bed;
- Her sixth, to stab herself; her seventh, to sentence
- The lash to Baba: -- but her grand resource
- Was to sit down again, and cry of course.
CXL
- She thought to stab herself, but then she had
- The dagger close at hand, which made it awkward;
- For Eastern stays are little made to pad,
- So that a poniard pierces if 't is stuck hard:
- She thought of killing Juan -- but, poor lad!
- Though he deserved it well for being so backward,
- The cutting off his head was not the art
- Most likely to attain her aim -- his heart.
CXLI
- Juan was moved; he had made up his mind
- To be impaled, or quarter'd as a dish
- For dogs, or to be slain with pangs refined,
- Or thrown to lions, or made baits for fish,
- And thus heroically stood resign'd,
- Rather than sin -- except to his own wish:
- But all his great preparatives for dying
- Dissolved like snow before a woman crying.
CXLII
- As through his palms Bob Acres' valour oozed,
- So Juan's virtue ebb'd, I know not how;
- And first he wonder'd why he had refused;
- And then, if matters could be made up now;
- And next his savage virtue he accused,
- Just as a friar may accuse his vow,
- Or as a dame repents her of her oath,
- Which mostly ends in some small breach of both.
CXLIII
- So he began to stammer some excuses;
- But words are not enough in such a matter,
- Although you borrow'd all that e'er the muses
- Have sung, or even a Dandy's dandiest chatter,
- Or all the figures Castlereagh abuses;
- Just as a languid smile began to flatter
- His peace was making, but before he ventured
- Further, old Baba rather briskly enter'd.
CXLIV
- "Bride of the Sun! and Sister of the Moon!"
- ('T was thus he spake) "and Empress of the Earth!
- Whose frown would put the spheres all out of tune,
- Whose smile makes all the planets dance with mirth,
- Your slave brings tidings -- he hopes not too soon --
- Which your sublime attention may be worth:
- The Sun himself has sent me like a ray,
- To hint that he is coming up this way."
CXLV
- "Is it," exclaim'd Gulbeyaz, "as you say?
- I wish to heaven he would not shine till morning!
- But bid my women form the milky way.
- Hence, my old comet! give the stars due warning --
- And, Christian! mingle with them as you may,
- And as you'd have me pardon your past scorning --"
- Here they were interrupted by a humming
- Sound, and then by a cry, "The Sultan's coming!"
CXLVI
- First came her damsels, a decorous file,
- And then his Highness' eunuchs, black and white;
- The train might reach a quarter of a mile:
- His majesty was always so polite
- As to announce his visits a long while
- Before he came, especially at night;
- For being the last wife of the Emperour,
- She was of course the favorite of the four.
CXLVII
- His Highness was a man of solemn port,
- Shawl'd to the nose, and bearded to the eyes,
- Snatch'd from a prison to preside at court,
- His lately bowstrung brother caused his rise;
- He was as good a sovereign of the sort
- As any mention'd in the histories
- Of Cantemir, or Knolles, where few shine
- Save Solyman, the glory of their line.[*]
CXLVIII
- He went to mosque in state, and said his prayers
- With more than "Oriental scrupulosity;"
- He left to his vizier all state affairs,
- And show'd but little royal curiosity:
- I know not if he had domestic cares --
- No process proved connubial animosity;
- Four wives and twice five hundred maids, unseen,
- Were ruled as calmly as a Christian queen.
CXLIX
- If now and then there happen'd a slight slip,
- Little was heard of criminal or crime;
- The story scarcely pass'd a single lip --
- The sack and sea had settled all in time,
- From which the secret nobody could rip:
- The Public knew no more than does this rhyme;
- No scandals made the daily press a curse --
- Morals were better, and the fish no worse.
CL
- He saw with his own eyes the moon was round,
- Was also certain that the earth was square,
- Because he had journey'd fifty miles, and found
- No sign that it was circular anywhere;
- His empire also was without a bound:
- 'T is true, a little troubled here and there,
- By rebel pachas, and encroaching giaours,
- But then they never came to "the Seven Towers;"
CLI
- Except in shape of envoys, who were sent
- To lodge there when a war broke out, according
- To the true law of nations, which ne'er meant
- Those scoundrels, who have never had a sword in
- Their dirty diplomatic hands, to vent
- Their spleen in making strife, and safely wording
- Their lies, yclep'd despatches, without risk or
- The singeing of a single inky whisker.
CLII
- He had fifty daughters and four dozen sons,
- Of whom all such as came of age were stow'd,
- The former in a palace, where like nuns
- They lived till some Bashaw was sent abroad,
- When she, whose turn it was, was wed at once,
- Sometimes at six years old -- though it seems odd,
- 'T is true; the reason is, that the Bashaw
- Must make a present to his sire in law.
CLIII
- His sons were kept in prison, till they grew
- Of years to fill a bowstring or the throne,
- One or the other, but which of the two
- Could yet be known unto the fates alone;
- Meantime the education they went through
- Was princely, as the proofs have always shown:
- So that the heir apparent still was found
- No less deserving to be hang'd than crown'd.
CLIV
- His majesty saluted his fourth spouse
- With all the ceremonies of his rank,
- Who clear'd her sparkling eyes and smooth'd her brows,
- As suits a matron who has play'd a prank;
- These must seem doubly mindful of their vows,
- To save the credit of their breaking bank:
- To no men are such cordial greetings given
- As those whose wives have made them fit for heaven.
CLV
- His Highness cast around his great black eyes,
- And looking, as he always look'd, perceived
- Juan amongst the damsels in disguise,
- At which he seem'd no whit surprised nor grieved,
- But just remark'd with air sedate and wise,
- While still a fluttering sigh Gulbeyaz heaved,
- "I see you've bought another girl; 't is pity
- That a mere Christian should be half so pretty."
CLVI
- This compliment, which drew all eyes upon
- The new-bought virgin, made her blush and shake.
- Her comrades, also, thought themselves undone:
- Oh! Mahomet! that his majesty should take
- Such notice of a giaour, while scarce to one
- Of them his lips imperial ever spake!
- There was a general whisper, toss, and wriggle,
- But etiquette forbade them all to giggle.
CLVII
- The Turks do well to shut -- at least, sometimes --
- The women up, because, in sad reality,
- Their chastity in these unhappy climes
- Is not a thing of that astringent quality
- Which in the North prevents precocious crimes,
- And makes our snow less pure than our morality;
- The sun, which yearly melts the polar ice,
- Has quite the contrary effect on vice.
CLVIII
- Thus in the East they are extremely strict,
- And Wedlock and a Padlock mean the same;
- Excepting only when the former's pick'd
- It ne'er can be replaced in proper frame;
- Spoilt, as a pipe of claret is when prick'd:
- But then their own Polygamy's to blame;
- Why don't they knead two virtuous souls for life
- Into that moral centaur, man and wife?
CLIX
- Thus far our chronicle; and now we pause,
- Though not for want of matter; but 't is time
- According to the ancient epic laws,
- To slacken sail, and anchor with our rhyme.
- Let this fifth canto meet with due applause,
- The sixth shall have a touch of the sublime;
- Meanwhile, as Homer sometimes sleeps, perhaps
- You'll pardon to my muse a few short naps.