Don Juan: CANTO THE SIXTH
I
- "There is a tide in the affairs of men
- Which, -- taken at the flood," -- you know the rest, [*]
- And most of us have found it now and then;
- At least we think so, though but few have guess'd
- The moment, till too late to come again.
- But no doubt every thing is for the best --
- Of which the surest sign is in the end:
- When things are at the worst they sometimes mend.
II
- There is a tide in the affairs of women
- Which, taken at the flood, leads -- God knows where:
- Those navigators must be able seamen
- Whose charts lay down its current to a hair;
- Not all the reveries of Jacob Behmen
- With its strange whirls and eddies can compare:
- Men with their heads reflect on this and that --
- But women with their hearts on heaven knows what!
III
- And yet a headlong, headstrong, downright she,
- Young, beautiful, and daring -- who would risk
- A throne, the world, the universe, to be
- Beloved in her own way, and rather whisk
- The stars from out the sky, than not be free
- As are the billows when the breeze is brisk --
- Though such a she's a devil (if that there be one),
- Yet she would make full many a Manichean.
IV
- Thrones, worlds, et cetera, are so oft upset
- By commonest ambition, that when passion
- O'erthrows the same, we readily forget,
- Or at the least forgive, the loving rash one.
- If Antony be well remember'd yet,
- 'T is not his conquests keep his name in fashion,
- But Actium, lost for Cleopatra's eyes,
- Outbalances all Caesar's victories.
V
- He died at fifty for a queen of forty;
- I wish their years had been fifteen and twenty,
- For then wealth, kingdoms, worlds are but a sport -- I
- Remember when, though I had no great plenty
- Of worlds to lose, yet still, to pay my court, I
- Gave what I had -- a heart: as the world went, I
- Gave what was worth a world; for worlds could never
- Restore me those pure feelings, gone forever.
VI
- 'T was the boy's "mite," and, like the "widow's," may
- Perhaps be weigh'd hereafter, if not now;
- But whether such things do or do not weigh,
- All who have loved, or love, will still allow
- Life has nought like it. God is love, they say,
- And Love's a god, or was before the brow
- Of earth was wrinkled by the sins and tears
- Of -- but Chronology best knows the years.
VII
- We left our hero and third heroine in
- A kind of state more awkward than uncommon,
- For gentlemen must sometimes risk their skin
- For that sad tempter, a forbidden woman:
- Sultans too much abhor this sort of sin,
- And don't agree at all with the wise Roman,
- Heroic, stoic Cato, the sententious,
- Who lent his lady to his friend Hortensius. [*]
VIII
- I know Gulbeyaz was extremely wrong;
- I own it, I deplore it, I condemn it;
- But I detest all fiction even in song,
- And so must tell the truth, howe'er you blame it.
- Her reason being weak, her passions strong,
- She thought that her lord's heart (even could she claim it)
- Was scarce enough; for he had fifty-nine
- Years, and a fifteen-hundredth concubine.
IX
- I am not, like Cassio, "an arithmetician,"
- But by "the bookish theoric" it appears,
- If 't is summ'd up with feminine precision,
- That, adding to the account his Highness' years,
- The fair Sultana err'd from inanition;
- For, were the Sultan just to all his dears,
- She could but claim the fifteen-hundredth part
- Of what should be monopoly -- the heart.
X
- It is observed that ladies are litigious
- Upon all legal objects of possession,
- And not the least so when they are religious,
- Which doubles what they think of the transgression:
- With suits and prosecutions they besiege us,
- As the tribunals show through many a session,
- When they suspect that any one goes shares
- In that to which the law makes them sole heirs.
XI
- Now, if this holds good in a Christian land,
- The heathen also, though with lesser latitude,
- Are apt to carry things with a high hand,
- And take what kings call "an imposing attitude,"
- And for their rights connubial make a stand,
- When their liege husbands treat them with ingratitude:
- And as four wives must have quadruple claims,
- The Tigris hath its jealousies like Thames.
XII
- Gulbeyaz was the fourth, and (as I said)
- The favourite; but what is favour amongst four?
- Polygamy may well be held in dread,
- Not only as a sin, but as a bore:
- Most wise men, with one moderate woman wed,
- Will scarcely find philosophy for more;
- And all (except Mahometans) forbear
- To make the nuptial couch a "Bed of Ware."
XIII
- His Highness, the sublimest of mankind, --
- So styled according to the usual forms
- Of every monarch, till they are consign'd
- To those sad hungry jacobins the worms,
- Who on the very loftiest kings have dined, --
- His Highness gazed upon Gulbeyaz' charms,
- Expecting all the welcome of a lover
- (A "Highland welcome" all the wide world over). [*]
XIV
- Now here we should distinguish; for howe'er
- Kisses, sweet words, embraces, and all that,
- May look like what is -- neither here nor there,
- They are put on as easily as a hat,
- Or rather bonnet, which the fair sex wear,
- Trimm'd either heads or hearts to decorate,
- Which form an ornament, but no more part
- Of heads, than their caresses of the heart.
XV
- A slight blush, a soft tremor, a calm kind
- Of gentle feminine delight, and shown
- More in the eyelids than the eyes, resign'd
- Rather to hide what pleases most unknown,
- Are the best tokens (to a modest mind)
- Of love, when seated on his loveliest throne,
- A sincere woman's breast, -- for over-warm
- Or over-cold annihilates the charm.
XVI
- For over-warmth, if false, is worse than truth;
- If true, 't is no great lease of its own fire;
- For no one, save in very early youth,
- Would like (I think) to trust all to desire,
- Which is but a precarious bond, in sooth,
- And apt to be transferr'd to the first buyer
- At a sad discount: while your over chilly
- Women, on t' other hand, seem somewhat silly.
XVII
- That is, we cannot pardon their bad taste,
- For so it seems to lovers swift or slow,
- Who fain would have a mutual flame confess'd,
- And see a sentimental passion glow,
- Even were St. Francis' paramour their guest,
- In his monastic concubine of snow; -- [*]
- In short, the maxim for the amorous tribe is
- Horatian, "Medio tu tutissimus ibis."
XVIII
- The "tu"'s too much, -- but let it stand, -- the verse
- Requires it, that's to say, the English rhyme,
- And not the pink of old hexameters;
- But, after all, there's neither tune nor time
- In the last line, which cannot well be worse,
- And was thrust in to close the octave's chime:
- I own no prosody can ever rate it
- As a rule, but Truth may, if you translate it.
XIX
- If fair Gulbeyaz overdid her part,
- I know not -- it succeeded, and success
- Is much in most things, not less in the heart
- Than other articles of female dress.
- Self-love in man, too, beats all female art;
- They lie, we lie, all lie, but love no less;
- And no one virtue yet, except starvation,
- Could stop that worst of vices -- propagation.
XX
- We leave this royal couple to repose:
- A bed is not a throne, and they may sleep,
- Whate'er their dreams be, if of joys or woes:
- Yet disappointed joys are woes as deep
- As any man's day mixture undergoes.
- Our least of sorrows are such as we weep;
- 'T is the vile daily drop on drop which wears
- The soul out (like the stone) with petty cares.
XXI
- A scolding wife, a sullen son, a bill
- To pay, unpaid, protested, or discounted
- At a per-centage; a child cross, dog ill,
- A favourite horse fallen lame just as he's mounted,
- A bad old woman making a worse will,
- Which leaves you minus of the cash you counted
- As certain; -- these are paltry things, and yet
- I've rarely seen the man they did not fret.
XXII
- I'm a philosopher; confound them all!
- Bills, beasts, and men, and -- no! not womankind!
- With one good hearty curse I vent my gall,
- And then my stoicism leaves nought behind
- Which it can either pain or evil call,
- And I can give my whole soul up to mind;
- Though what is soul or mind, their birth or growth,
- Is more than I know -- the deuce take them both!
XXIII
- So now all things are damned one feels at ease,
- As after reading Athanasius' curse,
- Which doth your true believer so much please:
- I doubt if any now could make it worse
- O'er his worst enemy when at his knees,
- 'T is so sententious, positive, and terse,
- And decorates the book of Common Prayer,
- As doth a rainbow the just clearing air.
XXIV
- Gulbeyaz and her lord were sleeping, or
- At least one of them! -- Oh, the heavy night,
- When wicked wives, who love some bachelor,
- Lie down in dudgeon to sigh for the light
- Of the gray morning, and look vainly for
- Its twinkle through the lattice dusky quite --
- To toss, to tumble, doze, revive, and quake
- Lest their too lawful bed-fellow should wake!
XXV
- These are beneath the canopy of heaven,
- Also beneath the canopy of beds
- Four-posted and silk curtain'd, which are given
- For rich men and their brides to lay their heads
- Upon, in sheets white as what bards call "driven
- Snow." Well! 't is all hap-hazard when one weds.
- Gulbeyaz was an empress, but had been
- Perhaps as wretched if a peasant's quean.
XXVI
- Don Juan in his feminine disguise,
- With all the damsels in their long array,
- Had bow'd themselves before th' imperial eyes,
- And at the usual signal ta'en their way
- Back to their chambers, those long galleries
- In the seraglio, where the ladies lay
- Their delicate limbs; a thousand bosoms there
- Beating for love, as the caged bird's for air.
XXVII
- I love the sex, and sometimes would reverse
- The tyrant's wish, "that mankind only had [*]
- One neck, which he with one fell stroke might pierce:"
- My wish is quite as wide, but not so bad,
- And much more tender on the whole than fierce;
- It being (not now, but only while a lad)
- That womankind had but one rosy mouth,
- To kiss them all at once from North to South.
XXVIII
- Oh, enviable Briareus! with thy hands
- And heads, if thou hadst all things multiplied
- In such proportion! -- But my Muse withstands
- The giant thought of being a Titan's bride,
- Or travelling in Patagonian lands;
- So let us back to Lilliput, and guide
- Our hero through the labyrinth of love
- In which we left him several lines above.
XXIX
- He went forth with the lovely Odalisques, [*]
- At the given signal join'd to their array;
- And though he certainly ran many risks,
- Yet he could not at times keep, by the way
- (Although the consequences of such frisks
- Are worse than the worst damages men pay
- In moral England, where the thing's a tax),
- From ogling all their charms from breasts to backs.
XXX
- Still he forgot not his disguise: -- along
- The galleries from room to room they walk'd,
- A virgin-like and edifying throng,
- By eunuchs flank'd; while at their head there stalk'd
- A dame who kept up discipline among
- The female ranks, so that none stirr'd or talk'd
- Without her sanction on their she-parades:
- Her title was "the Mother of the Maids."
XXXI
- Whether she was a "mother," I know not,
- Or whether they were "maids" who call'd her mother;
- But this is her seraglio title, got
- I know not how, but good as any other;
- So Cantemir can tell you, or De Tott:
- Her office was to keep aloof or smother
- All bad propensities in fifteen hundred
- Young women, and correct them when they blunder'd.
XXXII
- A goodly sinecure, no doubt! but made
- More easy by the absence of all men --
- Except his majesty, who, with her aid,
- And guards, and bolts, and walls, and now and then
- A slight example, just to cast a shade
- Along the rest, contrived to keep this den
- Of beauties cool as an Italian convent,
- Where all the passions have, alas! but one vent.
XXXIII
- And what is that? Devotion, doubtless -- how
- Could you ask such a question? -- but we will
- Continue. As I said, this goodly row
- Of ladies of all countries at the will
- Of one good man, with stately march and slow,
- Like water-lilies floating down a rill --
- Or rather lake, for rills do not run slowly, --
- Paced on most maiden-like and melancholy.
XXXIV
- But when they reach'd their own apartments, there,
- Like birds, or boys, or bedlamites broke loose,
- Waves at spring-tide, or women anywhere
- When freed from bonds (which are of no great use
- After all), or like Irish at a fair,
- Their guards being gone, and as it were a truce
- Establish'd between them and bondage, they
- Began to sing, dance, chatter, smile, and play.
XXXV
- Their talk, of course, ran most on the new comer;
- Her shape, her hair, her air, her everything:
- Some thought her dress did not so much become her,
- Or wonder'd at her ears without a ring;
- Some said her years were getting nigh their summer,
- Others contended they were but in spring;
- Some thought her rather masculine in height,
- While others wish'd that she had been so quite.
XXXVI
- But no one doubted on the whole, that she
- Was what her dress bespoke, a damsel fair,
- And fresh, and "beautiful exceedingly,"
- Who with the brightest Georgians might compare: [*]
- They wonder'd how Gulbeyaz, too, could be
- So silly as to buy slaves who might share
- (If that his Highness wearied of his bride)
- Her throne and power, and every thing beside.
XXXVII
- But what was strangest in this virgin crew,
- Although her beauty was enough to vex,
- After the first investigating view,
- They all found out as few, or fewer, specks
- In the fair form of their companion new,
- Than is the custom of the gentle sex,
- When they survey, with Christian eyes or Heathen,
- In a new face "the ugliest creature breathing."
XXXVIII
- And yet they had their little jealousies,
- Like all the rest; but upon this occasion,
- Whether there are such things as sympathies
- Without our knowledge or our approbation,
- Although they could not see through his disguise,
- All felt a soft kind of concatenation,
- Like magnetism, or devilism, or what
- You please -- we will not quarrel about that:
XXXIX
- But certain 'tis they all felt for their new
- Companion something newer still, as 't were
- A sentimental friendship through and through,
- Extremely pure, which made them all concur
- In wishing her their sister, save a few
- Who wish'd they had a brother just like her,
- Whom, if they were at home in sweet Circassia,
- They would prefer to Padisha or Pacha.[*]
XL
- Of those who had most genius for this sort
- Of sentimental friendship, there were three,
- Lolah, Katinka, and Dudù; in short
- (To save description), fair as fair can be
- Were they, according to the best report,
- Though differing in stature and degree,
- And clime and time, and country and complexion;
- They all alike admired their new connection.
XLI
- Lolah was dusk as India and as warm;
- Katinka was a Georgian, white and red,
- With great blue eyes, a lovely hand and arm,
- And feet so small they scarce seem'd made to tread,
- But rather skim the earth; while Dudù's form
- Look'd more adapted to be put to bed,
- Being somewhat large, and languishing, and lazy,
- Yet of a beauty that would drive you crazy.
XLII
- A kind of sleepy Venus seem'd Dudù,
- Yet very fit to "murder sleep" in those
- Who gazed upon her cheek's transcendent hue,
- Her Attic forehead, and her Phidian nose:
- Few angles were there in her form, 't is true,
- Thinner she might have been, and yet scarce lose;
- Yet, after all, 't would puzzle to say where
- It would not spoil some separate charm to pare.
XLIII
- She was not violently lively, but
- Stole on your spirit like a May-day breaking;
- Her eyes were not too sparkling, yet, half-shut,
- They put beholders in a tender taking;
- She look'd (this simile's quite new) just cut
- From marble, like Pygmalion's statue waking,
- The mortal and the marble still at strife,
- And timidly expanding into life.
XLIV
- Lolah demanded the new damsel's name --
- "Juanna." -- Well, a pretty name enough.
- Katinka ask'd her also whence she came --
- "From Spain." -- "But where is Spain?" -- "Don't ask such stuff,
- Nor show your Georgian ignorance -- for shame!"
- Said Lolah, with an accent rather rough,
- To poor Katinka: "Spain's an island near
- Morocco, betwixt Egypt and Tangier."
XLV
- Dudù said nothing, but sat down beside
- Juanna, playing with her veil or hair;
- And looking at her steadfastly, she sigh'd,
- As if she pitied her for being there,
- A pretty stranger without friend or guide,
- And all abash'd, too, at the general stare
- Which welcomes hapless strangers in all places,
- With kind remarks upon their mien and faces.
XLVI
- But here the Mother of the Maids drew near,
- With, "Ladies, it is time to go to rest.
- I'm puzzled what to do with you, my dear,"
- She added to Juanna, their new guest:
- "Your coming has been unexpected here,
- And every couch is occupied; you had best
- Partake of mine; but by to-morrow early
- We will have all things settled for you fairly."
XLVII
- Here Lolah interposed -- "Mamma, you know
- You don't sleep soundly, and I cannot bear
- That anybody should disturb you so;
- I'll take Juanna; we're a slenderer pair
- Than you would make the half of; -- don't say no;
- And I of your young charge will take due care."
- But here Katinka interfered, and said,
- "She also had compassion and a bed.
XLVIII
- "Besides, I hate to sleep alone," quoth she.
- The matron frown'd: "Why so?" -- "For fear of ghosts,"
- Replied Katinka; "I am sure I see
- A phantom upon each of the four posts;
- And then I have the worst dreams that can be,
- Of Guebres, Giaours, and Ginns, and Gouls in hosts."
- The dame replied, "Between your dreams and you,
- I fear Juanna's dreams would be but few.
XLIX
- "You, Lolah, must continue still to lie
- Alone, for reasons which don't matter; you
- The same, Katinka, until by and by;
- And I shall place Juanna with Dudù,
- Who's quiet, inoffensive, silent, shy,
- And will not toss and chatter the night through.
- What say you, child?" -- Dudù said nothing, as
- Her talents were of the more silent class;
L
- But she rose up, and kiss'd the matron's brow
- Between the eyes, and Lolah on both cheeks,
- Katinka, too; and with a gentle bow
- (Curt'sies are neither used by Turks nor Greeks)
- She took Juanna by the hand to show
- Their place of rest, and left to both their piques,
- The others pouting at the matron's preference
- Of Dudù, though they held their tongues from deference.
LI
- It was a spacious chamber (Oda is
- The Turkish title), and ranged round the wall
- Were couches, toilets -- and much more than this
- I might describe, as I have seen it all,
- But it suffices -- little was amiss;
- 'T was on the whole a nobly furnish'd hall,
- With all things ladies want, save one or two,
- And even those were nearer than they knew.
LII
- Dudù, as has been said, was a sweet creature,
- Not very dashing, but extremely winning,
- With the most regulated charms of feature,
- Which painters cannot catch like faces sinning
- Against proportion -- the wild strokes of nature
- Which they hit off at once in the beginning,
- Full of expression, right or wrong, that strike,
- And pleasing or unpleasing, still are like.
LIII
- But she was a soft landscape of mild earth,
- Where all was harmony, and calm, and quiet,
- Luxuriant, budding; cheerful without mirth,
- Which, if not happiness, is much more nigh it
- Than are your mighty passions and so forth,
- Which some call "the sublime:" I wish they'd try it:
- I've seen your stormy seas and stormy women,
- And pity lovers rather more than seamen.
LIV
- But she was pensive more than melancholy,
- And serious more than pensive, and serene,
- It may be, more than either -- not unholy
- Her thoughts, at least till now, appear to have been.
- The strangest thing was, beauteous, she was wholly
- Unconscious, albeit turn'd of quick seventeen,
- That she was fair, or dark, or short, or tall;
- She never thought about herself at all.
LV
- And therefore was she kind and gentle as
- The Age of Gold (when gold was yet unknown,
- By which its nomenclature came to pass;
- Thus most appropriately has been shown
- "Lucus à non lucendo," not what was,
- But what was not; a sort of style that's grown
- Extremely common in this age, whose metal
- The devil may decompose, but never settle:
LVI
- I think it may be of "Corinthian Brass,"
- Which was a mixture of all metals, but
- The brazen uppermost). Kind reader! pass
- This long parenthesis: I could not shut
- It sooner for the soul of me, and class
- My faults even with your own! which meaneth, Put
- A kind construction upon them and me:
- But that you won't -- then don't -- I am not less free.
LVII
- 'T is time we should return to plain narration,
- And thus my narrative proceeds: -- Dudù,
- With every kindness short of ostentation,
- Show'd Juan, or Juanna, through and through
- This labyrinth of females, and each station
- Described -- what's strange -- in words extremely few:
- I have but one simile, and that's a blunder,
- For wordless woman, which is silent thunder.
LVIII
- And next she gave her (I say her, because
- The gender still was epicene, at least
- In outward show, which is a saving clause)
- An outline of the customs of the East,
- With all their chaste integrity of laws,
- By which the more a haram is increased,
- The stricter doubtless grow the vestal duties
- Of any supernumerary beauties.
LIX
- And then she gave Juanna a chaste kiss:
- Dudù was fond of kissing -- which I'm sure
- That nobody can ever take amiss,
- Because 't is pleasant, so that it be pure,
- And between females means no more than this --
- That they have nothing better near, or newer.
- "Kiss" rhymes to "bliss" in fact as well as verse --
- I wish it never led to something worse.
LX
- In perfect innocence she then unmade
- Her toilet, which cost little, for she was
- A child of Nature, carelessly array'd:
- If fond of a chance ogle at her glass,
- 'T was like the fawn, which, in the lake display'd,
- Beholds her own shy, shadowy image pass,
- When first she starts, and then returns to peep,
- Admiring this new native of the deep.
LXI
- And one by one her articles of dress
- Were laid aside; but not before she offer'd
- Her aid to fair Juanna, whose excess
- Of modesty declined the assistance proffer'd:
- Which pass'd well off -- as she could do no less;
- Though by this politesse she rather suffer'd,
- Pricking her fingers with those cursed pins,
- Which surely were invented for our sins, --
LXII
- Making a woman like a porcupine,
- Not to be rashly touch'd. But still more dread,
- Oh ye! whose fate it is, as once 't was mine,
- In early youth, to turn a lady's maid; --
- I did my very boyish best to shine
- In tricking her out for a masquerade;
- The pins were placed sufficiently, but not
- Stuck all exactly in the proper spot.
LXIII
- But these are foolish things to all the wise,
- And I love wisdom more than she loves me;
- My tendency is to philosophise
- On most things, from a tyrant to a tree;
- But still the spouseless virgin Knowledge flies.
- What are we? and whence came we? what shall be
- Our ultimate existence? what's our present?
- Are questions answerless, and yet incessant.
LXIV
- There was deep silence in the chamber: dim
- And distant from each other burn'd the lights,
- And slumber hover'd o'er each lovely limb
- Of the fair occupants: if there be sprites,
- They should have walk'd there in their sprightliest trim,
- By way of change from their sepulchral sites,
- And shown themselves as ghosts of better taste
- Than haunting some old ruin or wild waste.
LXV
- Many and beautiful lay those around,
- Like flowers of different hue, and dime, and root,
- In some exotic garden sometimes found,
- With cost, and care, and warmth induced to shoot.
- One with her auburn tresses lightly bound,
- And fair brows gently drooping, as the fruit
- Nods from the tree, was slumbering with soft breath,
- And lips apart, which show'd the pearls beneath.
LXVI
- One with her flush'd cheek laid on her white arm,
- And raven ringlets gather'd in dark crowd
- Above her brow, lay dreaming soft and warm;
- And smiling through her dream, as through a cloud
- The moon breaks, half unveil'd each further charm,
- As, slightly stirring in her snowy shroud,
- Her beauties seized the unconscious hour of night
- All bashfully to struggle into light.
LXVII
- This is no bull, although it sounds so; for
- 'T was night, but there were lamps, as hath been said.
- A third's all pallid aspect offer'd more
- The traits of sleeping sorrow, and betray'd
- Through the heaved breast the dream of some far shore
- Belovéd and deplored; while slowly stray'd
- (As night-dew, on a cypress glittering, tinges
- The black bough) tear-drops through her eyes' dark fringes.
LXVIII
- A fourth as marble, statue-like and still,
- Lay in a breathless, hush'd, and stony sleep;
- White, cold, and pure, as looks a frozen rill,
- Or the snow minaret on an Alpine steep,
- Or Lot's wife done in salt, -- or what you will; --
- My similes are gather'd in a heap,
- So pick and choose -- perhaps you'll be content
- With a carved lady on a monument.
LXIX
- And lo! a fifth appears; -- and what is she?
- A lady of a "certain age," which means
- Certainly agéd -- what her years might be
- I know not, never counting past their teens;
- But there she slept, not quite so fair to see,
- As ere that awful period intervenes
- Which lays both men and women on the shelf,
- To meditate upon their sins and self.
LXX
- But all this time how slept, or dream'd, Dudù?
- With strict inquiry I could ne'er discover,
- And scorn to add a syllable untrue;
- But ere the middle watch was hardly over,
- Just when the fading lamps waned dim and blue,
- And phantoms hover'd, or might seem to hover,
- To those who like their company, about
- The apartment, on a sudden she scream'd out:
LXXI
- And that so loudly, that upstarted all
- The Oda, in a general commotion:
- Matron and maids, and those whom you may call
- Neither, came crowding like the waves of ocean,
- One on the other, throughout the whole hall,
- All trembling, wondering, without the least notion
- More than I have myself of what could make
- The calm Dudù so turbulently wake.
LXXII
- But wide awake she was, and round her bed,
- With floating draperies and with flying hair,
- With eager eyes, and light but hurried tread,
- And bosoms, arms, and ankles glancing bare,
- And bright as any meteor ever bred
- By the North Pole, -- they sought her cause of care,
- For she seem'd agitated, flush'd, and frighten'd,
- Her eye dilated and her colour heighten'd.
LXXIII
- But what was strange -- and a strong proof how great
- A blessing is sound sleep -- Juanna lay
- As fast as ever husband by his mate
- In holy matrimony snores away.
- Not all the clamour broke her happy state
- Of slumber, ere they shook her, -- so they say
- At least, -- and then she, too, unclosed her eyes,
- And yawn'd a good deal with discreet surprise.
LXXIV
- And now commenced a strict investigation,
- Which, as all spoke at once and more than once,
- Conjecturing, wondering, asking a narration,
- Alike might puzzle either wit or dunce
- To answer in a very clear oration.
- Dudù had never pass'd for wanting sense,
- But, being "no orator as Brutus is,"
- Could not at first expound what was amiss.
LXXV
- At length she said, that in a slumber sound
- She dream'd a dream, of walking in a wood --
- A "wood obscure," like that where Dante found [*]
- Himself in at the age when all grow good;
- Life's half-way house, where dames with virtue crown'd
- Run much less risk of lovers turning rude;
- And that this wood was full of pleasant fruits,
- And trees of goodly growth and spreading roots;
LXXVI
- And in the midst a golden apple grew, --
- A most prodigious pippin, -- but it hung
- Rather too high and distant; that she threw
- Her glances on it, and then, longing, flung
- Stones and whatever she could pick up, to
- Bring down the fruit, which still perversely clung
- To its own bough, and dangled yet in sight,
- But always at a most provoking height; --
LXXVII
- That on a sudden, when she least had hope,
- It fell down of its own accord before
- Her feet; that her first movement was to stoop
- And pick it up, and bite it to the core;
- That just as her young lip began to ope
- Upon the golden fruit the vision bore,
- A bee flew out and stung her to the heart,
- And so -- she awoke with a great scream and start.
LXXVIII
- All this she told with some confusion and
- Dismay, the usual consequence of dreams
- Of the unpleasant kind, with none at hand
- To expound their vain and visionary gleams.
- I've known some odd ones which seem'd really plann'd
- Prophetically, or that which one deems
- A "strange coincidence," to use a phrase
- By which such things are settled now-a-days.
LXXIX
- The damsels, who had thoughts of some great harm,
- Began, as is the consequence of fear,
- To scold a little at the false alarm
- That broke for nothing on their sleeping car.
- The matron, too, was wroth to leave her warm
- Bed for the dream she had been obliged to hear,
- And chafed at poor Dudù, who only sigh'd,
- And said that she was sorry she had cried.
LXXX
- "I've heard of stories of a cock and bull;
- But visions of an apple and a bee,
- To take us from our natural rest, and pull
- The whole Oda from their beds at half-past three,
- Would make us think the moon is at its full.
- You surely are unwell, child! we must see,
- To-morrow, what his Highness's physician
- Will say to this hysteric of a vision.
LXXXI
- "And poor Juanna, too -- the child's first night
- Within these walls to be broke in upon
- With such a clamour! I had thought it right
- That the young stranger should not lie alone,
- And, as the quietest of all, she might
- With you, Dudù, a good night's rest have known;
- But now I must transfer her to the charge
- Of Lolah -- though her couch is not so large."
LXXXII
- Lolah's eyes sparkled at the proposition;
- But poor Dudù, with large drops in her own,
- Resulting from the scolding or the vision,
- Implored that present pardon might be shown
- For this first fault, and that on no condition
- (She added in a soft and piteous tone)
- Juanna should be taken from her, and
- Her future dreams should all be kept in hand.
LXXXIII
- She promised never more to have a dream,
- At least to dream so loudly as just now;
- She wonder'd at herself how she could scream --
- 'T was foolish, nervous, as she must allow,
- A fond hallucination, and a theme
- For laughter -- but she felt her spirits low,
- And begg'd they would excuse her; she'd get over
- This weakness in a few hours, and recover.
LXXXIV
- And here Juanna kindly interposed,
- And said she felt herself extremely well
- Where she then was, as her sound sleep disclosed
- When all around rang like a tocsin bell:
- She did not find herself the least disposed
- To quit her gentle partner, and to dwell
- Apart from one who had no sin to show,
- Save that of dreaming once "mal-à-propos."
LXXXV
- As thus Juanna spoke, Dudù turn'd round
- And hid her face within Juanna's breast:
- Her neck alone was seen, but that was found
- The colour of a budding rose's crest.
- I can't tell why she blush'd, nor can expound
- The mystery of this rupture of their rest;
- All that I know is, that the facts I state
- Are true as truth has ever been of late.
LXXXVI
- And so good night to them, -- or, if you will,
- Good morrow -- for the cock had crown, and light
- Began to clothe each Asiatic hill,
- And the mosque crescent struggled into sight
- Of the long caravan, which in the chill
- Of dewy dawn wound slowly round each height
- That stretches to the stony belt, which girds
- Asia, where Kaff looks down upon the Kurds.
LXXXVII
- With the first ray, or rather grey of morn,
- Gulbeyaz rose from restlessness; and pale
- As passion rises, with its bosom worn,
- Array'd herself with mantle, gem, and veil.
- The nightingale that sings with the deep thorn,
- Which fable places in her breast of wail,
- Is lighter far of heart and voice than those
- Whose headlong passions form their proper woes.
LXXXVIII
- And that's the moral of this composition,
- If people would but see its real drift; --
- But that they will not do without suspicion,
- Because all gentle readers have the gift
- Of closing 'gainst the light their orbs of vision;
- While gentle writers also love to lift
- Their voices 'gainst each other, which is natural,
- The numbers are too great for them to flatter all.
LXXXIX
- Rose the sultana from a bed of splendour,
- Softer than the soft Sybarite's, who cried
- Aloud because his feelings were too tender
- To brook a ruffled rose-leaf by his side, --
- So beautiful that art could little mend her,
- Though pale with conflicts between love and pride; --
- So agitated was she with her error,
- She did not even look into the mirror.
XC
- Also arose about the self-same time,
- Perhaps a little later, her great lord,
- Master of thirty kingdoms so sublime,
- And of a wife by whom he was abhorr'd;
- A thing of much less import in that clime --
- At least to those of incomes which afford
- The filling up their whole connubial cargo --
- Than where two wives are under an embargo.
XCI
- He did not think much on the matter, nor
- Indeed on any other: as a man
- He liked to have a handsome paramour
- At hand, as one may like to have a fan,
- And therefore of Circassians had good store,
- As an amusement after the Divan;
- Though an unusual fit of love, or duty,
- Had made him lately bask in his bride's beauty.
XCII
- And now he rose; and after due ablutions
- Exacted by the customs of the East,
- And prayers and other pious evolutions,
- He drank six cups of coffee at the least,
- And then withdrew to hear about the Russians,
- Whose victories had recently increased
- In Catherine's reign, whom glory still adores,
- As greatest of all sovereigns and w--s.
XCIII
- But oh, thou grand legitimate Alexander!
- Her son's son, let not this last phrase offend
- Thine ear, if it should reach -- and now rhymes wander
- Almost as far as Petersburgh and lend
- A dreadful impulse to each loud meander
- Of murmuring Liberty's wide waves, which blend
- Their roar even with the Baltic's -- so you be
- Your father's son, 't is quite enough for me.
XCIV
- To call men love-begotten or proclaim
- Their mothers as the antipodes of Timon,
- That hater of mankind, would be a shame,
- A libel, or whate'er you please to rhyme on:
- But people's ancestors are history's game;
- And if one lady's slip could leave a crime on
- All generations, I should like to know
- What pedigree the best would have to show?
XCV
- Had Catherine and the sultan understood
- Their own true interests, which kings rarely know
- Until 't is taught by lessons rather rude,
- There was a way to end their strife, although
- Perhaps precarious, had they but thought good,
- Without the aid of prince or plenipo:
- She to dismiss her guards and he his haram,
- And for their other matters, meet and share 'em.
XCVI
- But as it was, his Highness had to hold
- His daily council upon ways and means
- How to encounter with this martial scold,
- This modern Amazon and queen of queans;
- And the perplexity could not be told
- Of all the pillars of the state, which leans
- Sometimes a little heavy on the backs
- Of those who cannot lay on a new tax.
XCVII
- Meantime Gulbeyaz, when her king was gone,
- Retired into her boudoir, a sweet place
- For love or breakfast; private, pleasing, lone,
- And rich with all contrivances which grace
- Those gay recesses: -- many a precious stone
- Sparkled along its roof, and many a vase
- Of porcelain held in the fetter'd flowers,
- Those captive soothers of a captive's hours.
XCVIII
- Mother of pearl, and porphyry, and marble,
- Vied with each other on this costly spot;
- And singing birds without were heard to warble;
- And the stain'd glass which lighted this fair grot
- Varied each ray; -- but all descriptions garble
- The true effect, and so we had better not
- Be too minute; an outline is the best, --
- A lively reader's fancy does the rest.
XCIX
- And here she summon'd Baba, and required
- Don Juan at his hands, and information
- Of what had pass'd since all the slaves retired,
- And whether he had occupied their station;
- If matters had been managed as desired,
- And his disguise with due consideration
- Kept up; and above all, the where and how
- He had pass'd the night, was what she wish'd to know.
C
- Baba, with some embarrassment, replied
- To this long catechism of questions, ask'd
- More easily than answer'd, -- that he had tried
- His best to obey in what he had been task'd;
- But there seem'd something that he wish'd to hide,
- Which hesitation more betray'd than mask'd;
- He scratch'd his ear, the infallible resource
- To which embarrass'd people have recourse.
CI
- Gulbeyaz was no model of true patience,
- Nor much disposed to wait in word or deed;
- She liked quick answers in all conversations;
- And when she saw him stumbling like a steed
- In his replies, she puzzled him for fresh ones;
- And as his speech grew still more broken-kneed,
- Her cheek began to flush, her eyes to sparkle,
- And her proud brow's blue veins to swell and darkle.
CII
- When Baba saw these symptoms, which he knew
- To bode him no great good, he deprecated
- Her anger, and beseech'd she'd hear him through --
- He could not help the thing which he related:
- Then out it came at length, that to Dudù
- Juan was given in charge, as hath been stated;
- But not by Baba's fault, he said, and swore on
- The holy camel's hump, besides the Koran.
CIII
- The chief dame of the Oda, upon whom
- The discipline of the whole haram bore,
- As soon as they re-enter'd their own room,
- For Baba's function stopt short at the door,
- Had settled all; nor could he then presume
- (The aforesaid Baba) just then to do more,
- Without exciting such suspicion as
- Might make the matter still worse than it was.
CIV
- He hoped, indeed he thought, he could be sure
- Juan had not betray'd himself; in fact
- 'T was certain that his conduct had been pure,
- Because a foolish or imprudent act
- Would not alone have made him insecure,
- But ended in his being found out and sacked,
- And thrown into the sea. -- Thus Baba spoke
- Of all save Dudù's dream, which was no joke.
CV
- This he discreetly kept in the background,
- And talk'd away -- and might have talk'd till now,
- For any further answer that he found,
- So deep an anguish wrung Gulbeyaz' brow:
- Her cheek turn'd ashes, ears rung, brain whirl'd round,
- As if she had received a sudden blow,
- And the heart's dew of pain sprang fast and chilly
- O'er her fair front, like Morning's on a lily.
CVI
- Although she was not of the fainting sort,
- Baba thought she would faint, but there he err'd --
- It was but a convulsion, which though short
- Can never be described; we all have heard,
- And some of us have felt thus "all amort,"
- When things beyond the common have occurr'd; --
- Gulbeyaz proved in that brief agony
- What she could ne'er express -- then how should I?
CVII
- She stood a moment as a Pythones
- Stands on her tripod, agonised, and full
- Of inspiration gather'd from distress,
- When all the heart-strings like wild horses pull
- The heart asunder; -- then, as more or lees
- Their speed abated or their strength grew dull,
- She sunk down on her seat by slow degrees,
- And bow'd her throbbing head o'er trembling knees.
CVIII
- Her face declined and was unseen; her hair
- Fell in long tresses like the weeping willow,
- Sweeping the marble underneath her chair,
- Or rather sofa (for it was all pillow,
- A low soft ottoman), and black despair
- Stirr'd up and down her bosom like a billow,
- Which rushes to some shore whose shingles check
- Its farther course, but must receive its wreck.
CIX
- Her head hung down, and her long hair in stooping
- Conceal'd her features better than a veil;
- And one hand o'er the ottoman lay drooping,
- White, waxen, and as alabaster pale:
- Would that I were a painter! to be grouping
- All that a poet drags into detail
- Oh that my words were colours! but their tints
- May serve perhaps as outlines or slight hints.
CX
- Baba, who knew by experience when to talk
- And when to hold his tongue, now held it till
- This passion might blow o'er, nor dared to balk
- Gulbeyaz' taciturn or speaking will.
- At length she rose up, and began to walk
- Slowly along the room, but silent still,
- And her brow clear'd, but not her troubled eye;
- The wind was down, but still the sea ran high.
CXI
- She stopp'd, and raised her head to speak -- but paused,
- And then moved on again with rapid pace;
- Then slacken'd it, which is the march most caused
- By deep emotion: -- you may sometimes trace
- A feeling in each footstep, as disclosed
- By Sallust in his Catiline, who, chased
- By all the demons of all passions, show'd
- Their work even by the way in which he trode.
CXII
- Gulbeyaz stopp'd and beckon'd Baba: -- "Slave!
- Bring the two slaves!" she said in a low tone,
- But one which Baba did not like to brave,
- And yet he shudder'd, and seem'd rather prone
- To prove reluctant, and begg'd leave to crave
- (Though he well knew the meaning) to be shown
- What slaves her highness wish'd to indicate,
- For fear of any error, like the late.
CXIII
- "The Georgian and her paramour," replied
- The imperial bride -- and added, "Let the boat
- Be ready by the secret portal's side:
- You know the rest." The words stuck in her throat,
- Despite her injured love and fiery pride;
- And of this Baba willingly took note,
- And begg'd by every hair of Mahomet's beard,
- She would revoke the order he had heard.
CXIV
- "To hear is to obey," he said; "but still,
- Sultana, think upon the consequence:
- It is not that I shall not all fulfil
- Your orders, even in their severest sense;
- But such precipitation may end ill,
- Even at your own imperative expense:
- I do not mean destruction and exposure,
- In case of any premature disclosure;
CXV
- "But your own feelings. Even should all the rest
- Be hidden by the rolling waves, which hide
- Already many a once love-beaten breast
- Deep in the caverns of the deadly tide --
- You love this boyish, new, seraglio guest,
- And if this violent remedy be tried --
- Excuse my freedom, when I here assure you,
- That killing him is not the way to cure you."
CXVI
- "What dost thou know of love or feeling? -- Wretch!
- Begone!" she cried, with kindling eyes -- "and do
- My bidding!" Baba vanish'd, for to stretch
- His own remonstrance further he well knew
- Might end in acting as his own "Jack Ketch;"
- And though he wish'd extremely to get through
- This awkward business without harm to others,
- He still preferr'd his own neck to another's.
CXVII
- Away he went then upon his commission,
- Growling and grumbling in good Turkish phrase
- Against all women of whate'er condition,
- Especially sultanas and their ways;
- Their obstinacy, pride, and indecision,
- Their never knowing their own mind two days,
- The trouble that they gave, their immorality,
- Which made him daily bless his own neutrality.
CXVIII
- And then he call'd his brethren to his aid,
- And sent one on a summons to the pair,
- That they must instantly be well array'd,
- And above all be comb'd even to a hair,
- And brought before the empress, who had made
- Inquiries after them with kindest care:
- At which Dudù look'd strange, and Juan silly;
- But go they must at once, and will I -- nill I.
CXIX
- And here I leave them at their preparation
- For the imperial presence, wherein whether
- Gulbeyaz show'd them both commiseration,
- Or got rid of the parties altogether,
- Like other angry ladies of her nation, --
- Are things the turning of a hair or feather
- May settle; but far be 't from me to anticipate
- In what way feminine caprice may dissipate.
CXX
- I leave them for the present with good wishes,
- Though doubts of their well doing, to arrange
- Another part of history; for the dishes
- Of this our banquet we must sometimes change;
- And trusting Juan may escape the fishes,
- Although his situation now seems strange
- And scarce secure, as such digressions are fair,
- The Muse will take a little touch at warfare.