Don Juan: CANTO THE NINTH
I
- Oh, Wellington! (or "Villainton" -- for Fame
- Sounds the heroic syllables both ways;
- France could not even conquer your great name,
- But punn'd it down to this facetious phrase --
- Beating or beaten she will laugh the same),
- You have obtain'd great pensions and much praise:
- Glory like yours should any dare gainsay,
- Humanity would rise, and thunder "Nay!" [*]
II
- I don't think that you used Kinnaird quite well
- In Marinet's affair -- in fact, 't was shabby,
- And like some other things won't do to tell
- Upon your tomb in Westminster's old abbey.
- Upon the rest 't is not worth while to dwell,
- Such tales being for the tea-hours of some tabby;
- But though your years as man tend fast to zero,
- In fact your grace is still but a young hero.
III
- Though Britain owes (and pays you too) so much,
- Yet Europe doubtless owes you greatly more:
- You have repair'd Legitimacy's crutch,
- A prop not quite so certain as before:
- The Spanish, and the French, as well as Dutch,
- Have seen, and felt, how strongly you restore;
- And Waterloo has made the world your debtor
- (I wish your bards would sing it rather better).
IV
- You are "the best of cut-throats:" -- do not start;
- The phrase is Shakspeare's, and not misapplied:
- War's a brain-spattering, windpipe-slitting art,
- Unless her cause by right be sanctified.
- If you have acted once a generous part,
- The world, not the world's masters, will decide,
- And I shall be delighted to learn who,
- Save you and yours, have gain'd by Waterloo?
V
- I am no flatterer -- you've supp'd full of flattery:
- They say you like it too -- 't is no great wonder.
- He whose whole life has been assault and battery,
- At last may get a little tired of thunder;
- And swallowing eulogy much more than satire, he
- May like being praised for every lucky blunder,
- Call'd "Saviour of the Nations" -- not yet saved,
- And "Europe's Liberator" -- still enslaved. [*]
VI
- I've done. Now go and dine from off the plate
- Presented by the Prince of the Brazils,
- And send the sentinel before your gate
- A slice or two from your luxurious meals:
- He fought, but has not fed so well of late.
- Some hunger, too, they say the people feels: --
- There is no doubt that you deserve your ration,
- But pray give back a little to the nation.
VII
- I don't mean to reflect -- a man so great as
- You, my lord duke! is far above reflection:
- The high Roman fashion, too, of Cincinnatus,
- With modern history has but small connection:
- Though as an Irishman you love potatoes,
- You need not take them under your direction;
- And half a million for your Sabine farm
- Is rather dear! -- I'm sure I mean no harm.
VIII
- Great men have always scorn'd great recompenses:
- Epaminondas saved his Thebes, and died,
- Not leaving even his funeral expenses:
- George Washington had thanks and nought beside,
- Except the all-cloudless glory (which few men's is)
- To free his country: Pitt too had his pride,
- And as a high-soul'd minister of state is
- Renown'd for ruining Great Britain gratis.
IX
- Never had mortal man such opportunity,
- Except Napoleon, or abused it more:
- You might have freed fallen Europe from the unity
- Of tyrants, and been blest from shore to shore:
- And now -- what is your fame? Shall the Muse tune it ye?
- Now -- that the rabble's first vain shouts are o'er?
- Go! hear it in your famish'd country's cries!
- Behold the world! and curse your victories!
X
- As these new cantos touch on warlike feats,
- To you the unflattering Muse deigns to inscribe
- Truths, that you will not read in the Gazettes,
- But which 't is time to teach the hireling tribe
- Who fatten on their country's gore, and debts,
- Must be recited, and -- without a bribe.
- You did great things; but not being great in mind,
- Have left undone the greatest -- and mankind.
XI
- Death laughs -- Go ponder o'er the skeleton
- With which men image out the unknown thing
- That hides the past world, like to a set sun
- Which still elsewhere may rouse a brighter spring --
- Death laughs at all you weep for: -- look upon
- This hourly dread of all! whose threaten'd sting
- Turns life to terror, even though in its sheath:
- Mark how its lipless mouth grins without breath!
XII
- Mark how it laughs and scorns at all you are!
- And yet was what you are: from ear to ear
- It laughs not -- there is now no fleshy bar
- So call'd; the Antic long hath ceased to hear,
- But still he smiles; and whether near or far,
- He strips from man that mantle (far more dear
- Than even the tailor's), his incarnate skin,
- White, black, or copper -- the dead bones will grin.
XIII
- And thus Death laughs, -- it is sad merriment,
- But still it is so; and with such example
- Why should not Life be equally content
- With his superior, in a smile to trample
- Upon the nothings which are daily spent
- Like bubbles on an ocean much less ample
- Than the eternal deluge, which devours
- Suns as rays -- worlds like atoms -- years like hours?
XIV
- "To be, or not to be? that is the question,"
- Says Shakspeare, who just now is much in fashion.
- I am neither Alexander nor Hephæstion,
- Nor ever had for abstract fame much passion;
- But would much rather have a sound digestion
- Than Buonaparte's cancer: could I dash on
- Through fifty victories to shame or fame --
- Without a stomach what were a good name?
XV
- "O dura ilia messorum!" -- "Oh
- Ye rigid guts of reapers!" I translate
- For the great benefit of those who know
- What indigestion is -- that inward fate
- Which makes all Styx through one small liver flow.
- A peasant's sweat is worth his lord's estate:
- Let this one toil for bread -- that rack for rent,
- He who sleeps best may be the most content.
XVI
- "To be, or not to be?" -- Ere I decide,
- I should be glad to know that which is being?
- 'T is true we speculate both far and wide,
- And deem, because we see, we are all-seeing:
- For my part, I'll enlist on neither side,
- Until I see both sides for once agreeing.
- For me, I sometimes think that life is death,
- Rather than life a mere affair of breath.
XVII
- "Que scais-je?" was the motto of Montaigne,
- As also of the first academicians:
- That all is dubious which man may attain,
- Was one of their most favourite positions.
- There's no such thing as certainty, that's plain
- As any of Mortality's conditions;
- So little do we know what we're about in
- This world, I doubt if doubt itself be doubting.
XVIII
- It is a pleasant voyage perhaps to float,
- Like Pyrrho, on a sea of speculation;
- But what if carrying sail capsize the boat?
- Your wise men don't know much of navigation;
- And swimming long in the abyss of thought
- Is apt to tire: a calm and shallow station
- Well nigh the shore, where one stoops down and gathers
- Some pretty shell, is best for moderate bathers.
XIX
- "But heaven," as Cassio says, "is above all -- [*]
- No more of this, then, -- let us pray!" We have
- Souls to save, since Eve's slip and Adam's fall,
- Which tumbled all mankind into the grave,
- Besides fish, beasts, and birds. "The sparrow's fall
- Is special providence," though how it gave
- Offence, we know not; probably it perch'd
- Upon the tree which Eve so fondly search'd.
XX
- Oh, ye immortal gods! what is theogony?
- Oh, thou too, mortal man! what is philanthropy?
- Oh, world! which was and is, what is cosmogony?
- Some people have accused me of misanthropy;
- And yet I know no more than the mahogany
- That forms this desk, of what they mean; Lykanthropy
- I comprehend, for without transformation
- Men become wolves on any slight occasion.
XXI
- But I, the mildest, meekest of mankind,
- Like Moses, or Melancthon, who have ne'er
- Done anything exceedingly unkind, --
- And (though I could not now and then forbear
- Following the bent of body or of mind)
- Have always had a tendency to spare, --
- Why do they call me misanthrope? Because
- They hate me, not I them. -- and here we'll pause.
XXII
- 'T is time we should proceed with our good poem, --
- For I maintain that it is really good,
- Not only in the body but the proem,
- However little both are understood
- Just now, -- but by and by the Truth will show 'em
- Herself in her sublimest attitude:
- And till she doth, I fain must be content
- To share her beauty and her banishment.
XXIII
- Our hero (and, I trust, kind reader, yours)
- Was left upon his way to the chief city
- Of the immortal Peter's polish'd boors
- Who still have shown themselves more brave than witty.
- I know its mighty empire now allures
- Much flattery -- even Voltaire's, and that's a pity.
- For me, I deem an absolute autocrat
- Not a barbarian, but much worse than that.
XXIV
- And I will war, at least in words (and -- should
- My chance so happen -- deeds), with all who war
- With Thought; -- and of Thought's foes by far most rude,
- Tyrants and sycophants have been and are.
- I know not who may conquer: if I could
- Have such a prescience, it should be no bar
- To this my plain, sworn, downright detestation
- Of every depotism in every nation.
XXV
- It is not that I adulate the people:
- Without me, there are demagogues enough,
- And infidels, to pull down every steeple,
- And set up in their stead some proper stuff.
- Whether they may sow scepticism to reap hell,
- As is the Christian dogma rather rough,
- I do not know; -- I wish men to be free
- As much from mobs as kings -- from you as me.
XXVI
- The consequence is, being of no party,
- I shall offend all parties: never mind!
- My words, at least, are more sincere and hearty
- Than if I sought to sail before the wind.
- He who has nought to gain can have small art: he
- Who neither wishes to be bound nor bind,
- May still expatiate freely, as will I,
- Nor give my voice to slavery's jackal cry.
XXVII
- That's an appropriate simile, that jackal; --
- I've heard them in the Ephesian ruins howl [*]
- By night, as do that mercenary pack all,
- Power's base purveyors, who for pickings prowl,
- And scent the prey their masters would attack all.
- However, the poor jackals are less foul
- (As being the brave lions' keen providers)
- Than human insects, catering for spiders.
XXVIII
- Raise but an arm! 't will brush their web away,
- And without that, their poison and their claws
- Are useless. Mind, good people! what I say
- (Or rather peoples) -- go on without pause!
- The web of these tarantulas each day
- Increases, till you shall make common cause:
- None, save the Spanish fly and Attic bee,
- As yet are strongly stinging to be free.
XXIX
- Don Juan, who had shone in the late slaughter,
- Was left upon his way with the despatch,
- Where blood was talk'd of as we would of water;
- And carcasses that lay as thick as thatch
- O'er silenced cities, merely served to flatter
- Fair Catherine's pastime -- who look'd on the match
- Between these nations as a main of cocks,
- Wherein she liked her own to stand like rocks.
XXX
- And there in a kibitka he roll'd on
- (A curséd sort of carriage without springs,
- Which on rough roads leaves scarcely a whole bone),
- Pondering on glory, chivalry, and kings,
- And orders, and on all that he had done --
- And wishing that post-horses had the wings
- Of Pegasus, or at the least post-chaises
- Had feathers, when a traveller on deep ways is.
XXXI
- At every jolt -- and they were many -- still
- He turn'd his eyes upon his little charge,
- As if he wish'd that she should fare less ill
- Than he, in these sad highways left at large
- To ruts, and flints, and lovely Nature's skill,
- Who is no paviour, nor admits a barge
- On her canals, where God takes sea and land,
- Fishery and farm, both into his own hand.
XXXII
- At least he pays no rent, and has best right
- To be the first of what we used to call
- "Gentlemen farmer" -- a race worn out quite,
- Since lately there have been no rents at all,
- And "gentlemen" are in a piteous plight,
- And "farmers" can't raise Ceres from her fall:
- She fell with Buonaparte -- What strange thoughts
- Arise, when we see emperors fall with oats!
XXXIII
- But Juan turn'd his eyes on the sweet child
- Whom he had saved from slaughter -- what a trophy!
- Oh! ye who build up monuments, defiled
- With gore, like Nadir Shah, that costive sophy,
- Who, after leaving Hindostan a wild,
- And scarce to the Mogul a cup of coffee
- To soothe his woes withal, was slain, the sinner!
- Because he could no more digest his dinner; -- [*]
XXXIV
- Oh ye! or we! or he! or she! reflect,
- That one life saved, especially if young
- Or pretty, is a thing to recollect
- Far sweeter than the greenest laurels sprung
- From the manure of human clay, though deck'd
- With all the praises ever said or sung:
- Though hymn'd by every harp, unless within
- Your heart joins chorus, Fame is but a din.
XXXV
- Oh! ye great authors luminous, voluminous!
- Ye twice ten hundred thousand daily scribes!
- Whose pamphlets, volumes, newspapers, illumine us!
- Whether you're paid by government in bribes,
- To prove the public debt is not consuming us --
- Or, roughly treading on the "courtier's kibes"
- With clownish heel, your popular circulation
- Feeds you by printing half the realm's starvation; --
XXXVI
- Oh, ye great authors! -- "Apropos des bottes," --
- I have forgotten what I meant to say,
- As sometimes have been greater sages' lots; --
- 'T was something calculated to allay
- All wrath in barracks, palaces, or cots:
- Certes it would have been but thrown away,
- And that's one comfort for my lost advice,
- Although no doubt it was beyond all price.
XXXVII
- But let it go: -- it will one day be found
- With other relics of "a former world,"
- When this world shall be former, underground,
- Thrown topsy-turvy, twisted, crisp'd, and curl'd,
- Baked, fried, or burnt, turn'd inside-out, or drown'd,
- Like all the worlds before, which have been hurl'd
- First out of, and then back again to chaos,
- The superstratum which will overlay us.
XXXVIII
- So Cuvier says; -- and then shall come again
- Unto the new creation, rising out
- From our old crash, some mystic, ancient strain
- Of things destroy'd and left in airy doubt:
- Like to the notions we now entertain
- Of Titans, giants, fellows of about
- Some hundred feet in height, not to say miles,
- And mammoths, and your wingéd crocodiles.
XXXIX
- Think if then George the Fourth should be dug up!
- How the new worldlings of the then new East
- Will wonder where such animals could sup!
- (For they themselves will be but of the least:
- Even worlds miscarry, when too oft they pup,
- And every new creation hath decreased
- In size, from overworking the material --
- Men are but maggots of some huge Earth's burial.)
XL
- How will -- to these young people, just thrust out
- From some fresh Paradise, and set to plough,
- And dig, and sweat, and turn themselves about,
- And plant, and reap, and spin, and grind, and sow,
- Till all the arts at length are brought about,
- Especially of war and taxing, -- how,
- I say, will these great relics, when they see 'em,
- Look like the monsters of a new museum?
XLI
- But I am apt to grow too metaphysical:
- "The time is out of joint," -- and so am I;
- I quite forget this poem's merely quizzical,
- And deviate into matters rather dry.
- I ne'er decide what I shall say, and this I call
- Much too poetical: men should know why
- They write, and for what end; but, note or text,
- I never know the word which will come next.
XLII
- So on I ramble, now and then narrating,
- Now pondering: -- it is time we should narrate.
- I left Don Juan with his horses baiting --
- Now we'll get o'er the ground at a great rate.
- I shall not be particular in stating
- His journey, we've so many tours of late:
- Suppose him then at Petersburgh; suppose
- That pleasant capital of painted snows;
XLIII
- Suppose him in a handsome uniform, --
- A scarlet coat, black facings, a long plume,
- Waving, like sails new shiver'd in a storm,
- Over a cock'd hat in a crowded room,
- And brilliant breeches, bright as a Cairn Gorme,
- Of yellow casimere we may presume,
- White stocking drawn uncurdled as new milk
- O'er limbs whose symmetry set off the silk;
XLIV
- Suppose him sword by side, and hat in hand,
- Made up by youth, fame, and an army tailor --
- That great enchanter, at whose rod's command
- Beauty springs forth, and Nature's self turns paler,
- Seeing how Art can make her work more grand
- (When she don't pin men's limbs in like a gaoler), --
- Behold him placed as if upon a pillar! He
- Seems Love turn'd a lieutenant of artillery: --
XLV
- His bandage slipp'd down into a cravat;
- His wings subdued to epaulettes; his quiver
- Shrunk to a scabbard, with his arrows at
- His side as a small sword, but sharp as ever;
- His bow converted into a cock'd hat;
- But still so like, that Psyche were more clever
- Than some wives (who make blunders no less stupid),
- If she had not mistaken him for Cupid.
XLVI
- The courtiers stared, the ladies whisper'd, and
- The empress smiled: the reigning favourite frown'd --
- I quite forget which of them was in hand
- Just then; as they are rather numerous found,
- Who took by turns that difficult command
- Since first her majesty was singly crown'd:
- But they were mostly nervous six-foot fellows,
- All fit to make a Patagonian jealous.
XLVII
- Juan was none of these, but slight and slim,
- Blushing and beardless; and yet ne'ertheless
- There was a something in his turn of limb,
- And still more in his eye, which seem'd to express,
- That though he look'd one of the seraphim,
- There lurk'd a man beneath the spirit's dress.
- Besides, the empress sometimes liked a boy,
- And had just buried the fair-faced Lanskoi. [*]
XLVIII
- No wonder then that Yermoloff, or Momonoff,
- Or Scherbatoff, or any other off
- Or on, might dread her majesty had not room enough
- Within her bosom (which was not too tough)
- For a new flame; a thought to cast of gloom enough
- Along the aspect, whether smooth or rough,
- Of him who, in the language of his station,
- Then held that "high official situation."
XLIX
- O, gentle ladies! should you seek to know
- The import of this diplomatic phrase,
- Bid Ireland's Londonderry's Marquess show [*]
- His parts of speech; and in the strange displays
- Of that odd string of words, all in a row,
- Which none divine, and every one obeys,
- Perhaps you may pick out some queer no meaning,
- Of that weak wordy harvest the sole gleaning.
L
- I think I can explain myself without
- That sad inexplicable beast of prey --
- That Sphinx, whose words would ever be a doubt,
- Did not his deeds unriddle them each day --
- That monstrous hieroglyphic -- that long spout
- Of blood and water, leaden Castlereagh!
- And here I must an anecdote relate,
- But luckily of no great length or weight.
LI
- An English lady ask'd of an Italian,
- What were the actual and official duties
- Of the strange thing some women set a value on,
- Which hovers oft about some married beauties,
- Called "Cavalier servente?" -- a Pygmalion
- Whose statues warm (I fear, alas! too true 't is)
- Beneath his art. The dame, press'd to disclose them,
- Said -- "Lady, I beseech you to suppose them."
LII
- And thus I supplicate your supposition,
- And mildest, matron-like interpretation,
- Of the imperial favourite's condition.
- 'T was a high place, the highest in the nation
- In fact, if not in rank; and the suspicion
- Of any one's attaining to his station,
- No doubt gave pain, where each new pair of shoulders,
- If rather broad, made stocks rise and their holders.
LIII
- Juan, I said, was a most beauteous boy,
- And had retain'd his boyish look beyond
- The usual hirsute seasons which destroy,
- With beards and whiskers, and the like, the fond
- Parisian aspect which upset old Troy
- And founded Doctors' Commons: -- I have conn'd
- The history of divorces, which, though chequer'd,
- Calls Ilion's the first damages on record.
LIV
- And Catherine, who loved all things (save her lord,
- Who was gone to his place), and pass'd for much
- Admiring those (by dainty dames abhorr'd)
- Gigantic gentlemen, yet had a touch
- Of sentiment; and he she most adored
- Was the lamented Lanskoi, who was such
- A lover as had cost her many a tear,
- And yet but made a middling grenadier.
LV
- Oh thou "teterrima causa" of all "belli" -- [*]
- Thou gate of life and death -- thou nondescript!
- Whence is our exit and our entrance, -- well I
- May pause in pondering how all souls are dipt
- In thy perennial fountain: -- how man fell I
- Know not, since knowledge saw her branches stript
- Of her first fruit; but how he falls and rises
- Since, thou hast settled beyond all surmises.
LVI
- Some call thee "the worst cause of war," but I
- Maintain thou art the best: for after all
- From thee we come, to thee we go, and why
- To get at thee not batter down a wall,
- Or waste a world? since no one can deny
- Thou dost replenish worlds both great and small:
- With, or without thee, all things at a stand
- Are, or would be, thou sea of life's dry land!
LVII
- Catherine, who was the grand Epitome
- Of that great cause of war, or peace, or what
- You please (it causes all the things which be,
- So you may take your choice of this or that) --
- Catherine, I say. was very glad to see
- The handsome herald, on whose plumage sat
- Victory; and pausing as she saw him kneel
- With his despatch, forgot to break the seal.
LVIII
- Then recollecting the whole empress, nor
- Forgetting quite the woman (which composed
- At least three parts of this great whole), she tore
- The letter open with an air which posed
- The court, that watch'd each look her visage wore,
- Until a royal smile at length disclosed
- Fair weather for the day. Though rather spacious,
- Her face was noble, her eyes fine, mouth gracious.
LIX
- Great joy was hers, or rather joys: the first
- Was a ta'en city, thirty thousand slain.
- Glory and triumph o'er her aspect burst,
- As an East Indian sunrise on the main.
- These quench'd a moment her ambition's thirst --
- So Arab deserts drink in summer's rain:
- In vain! -- As fall the dews on quenchless sands,
- Blood only serves to wash Ambition's hands!
LX
- Her next amusement was more fanciful;
- She smiled at mad Suwarrow's rhymes, who threw
- Into a Russian couplet rather dull
- The whole gazette of thousands whom he slew.
- Her third was feminine enough to annul
- The shudder which runs naturally through
- Our veins, when things call'd sovereigns think it best
- To kill, and generals turn it into jest.
LXI
- The two first feelings ran their course complete,
- And lighted first her eye, and then her mouth:
- The whole court look'd immediately most sweet,
- Like flowers well water'd after a long drouth.
- But when on the lieutenant at her feet
- Her majesty, who liked to gaze on youth
- Almost as much as on a new despatch,
- Glanced mildly, all the world was on the watch.
LXII
- Though somewhat large, exuberant, and truculent,
- When wroth -- while pleased, she was as fine a figure
- As those who like things rosy, ripe, and succulent,
- Would wish to look on, while they are in vigour.
- She could repay each amatory look you lent
- With interest, and in turn was wont with rigour
- To exact of Cupid's bills the full amount
- At sight, nor would permit you to discount.
LXIII
- With her the latter, though at times convenient,
- Was not so necessary; for they tell
- That she was handsome, and though fierce look'd lenient,
- And always used her favourites too well.
- If once beyond her boudoir's precincts in ye went,
- Your "fortune" was in a fair way "to swell
- A man" (as Giles says); for though she would widow all [*]
- Nations, she liked man as an individual.
LXIV
- What a strange thing is man? and what a stranger
- Is woman! What a whirlwind is her head,
- And what a whirlpool full of depth and danger
- Is all the rest about her! Whether wed
- Or widow, maid or mother, she can change her
- Mind like the wind: whatever she has said
- Or done, is light to what she'll say or do; --
- The oldest thing on record, and yet new!
LXV
- Oh Catherine! (for of all interjections,
- To thee both oh! and ah! belong of right
- In love and war) how odd are the connections
- Of human thoughts, which jostle in their flight!
- Just now yours were cut out in different sections:
- First Ismail's capture caught your fancy quite;
- Next of new knights, the fresh and glorious batch;
- And thirdly he who brought you the despatch!
LXVI
- Shakspeare talks of "the herald Mercury
- New lighted on a heaven-kissing hill;"
- And some such visions cross'd her majesty,
- While her young herald knelt before her still.
- 'T is very true the hill seem'd rather high,
- For a lieutenant to climb up; but skill
- Smooth'd even the Simplon's steep, and by God's blessing
- With youth and health all kisses are "heaven-kissing."
LXVII
- Her majesty look'd down, the youth look'd up --
- And so they fell in love; -- she with his face,
- His grace, his God-knows-what: for Cupid's cup
- With the first draught intoxicates apace,
- A quintessential laudanum or "black drop,"
- Which makes one drunk at once, without the base
- Expedient of full bumpers; for the eye
- In love drinks all life's fountains (save tears) dry.
LXVIII
- He, on the other hand, if not in love,
- Fell into that no less imperious passion,
- Self-love -- which, when some sort of thing above
- Ourselves, a singer, dancer, much in fashion,
- Or duchess, princess, empress, "deigns to prove"
- ('T is Pope's phrase) a great longing, though a rash one,
- For one especial person out of many,
- Makes us believe ourselves as good as any.
LXIX
- Besides, he was of that delighted age
- Which makes all female ages equal -- when
- We don't much care with whom we may engage,
- As bold as Daniel in the lion's den,
- So that we can our native sun assuage
- In the next ocean, which may flow just then,
- To make a twilight in, just as Sol's heat is
- Quench'd in the lap of the salt sea, or Thetis.
LXX
- And Catherine (we must say thus much for Catherine),
- Though bold and bloody, was the kind of thing
- Whose temporary passion was quite flattering,
- Because each lover look'd a sort of king,
- Made up upon an amatory pattern,
- A royal husband in all save the ring --
- Which, being the damn'dest part of matrimony,
- Seem'd taking out the sting to leave the honey.
LXXI
- And when you add to this, her womanhood
- In its meridian, her blue eyes or gray
- (The last, if they have soul, are quite as good,
- Or better, as the best examples say:
- Napoleon's, Mary's (queen of Scotland), should
- Lend to that colour a transcendent ray;
- And Pallas also sanctions the same hue,
- Too wise to look through optics black or blue) --
LXXII
- Her sweet smile, and her then majestic figure,
- Her plumpness, her imperial condescension,
- Her preference of a boy to men much bigger
- (Fellows whom Messalina's self would pension),
- Her prime of life, just now in juicy vigour,
- With other extras, which we need not mention, --
- All these, or any one of these, explain
- Enough to make a stripling very vain.
LXXIII
- And that's enough, for love is vanity,
- Selfish in its beginning as its end,
- Except where 't is a mere insanity,
- A maddening spirit which would strive to blend
- Itself with beauty's frail inanity,
- On which the passion's self seems to depend:
- And hence some heathenish philosophers
- Make love the main spring of the universe.
LXXIV
- Besides Platonic love, besides the love
- Of God, the love of sentiment, the loving
- Of faithful pairs (I needs must rhyme with dove,
- That good old steam-boat which keeps verses moving
- 'Gainst reason -- Reason ne'er was hand-and-glove
- With rhyme, but always leant less to improving
- The sound than sense) -- beside all these pretences
- To love, there are those things which words name senses;
LXXV
- Those movements, those improvements in our bodies
- Which make all bodies anxious to get out
- Of their own sand-pits, to mix with a goddess,
- For such all women are at first no doubt.
- How beautiful that moment! and how odd is
- That fever which precedes the languid rout
- Of our sensations! What a curious way
- The whole thing is of clothing souls in clay!
LXXVI
- The noblest kind of love is love Platonical,
- To end or to begin with; the next grand
- Is that which may be christen'd love canonical,
- Because the clergy take the thing in hand;
- The third sort to be noted in our chronicle
- As flourishing in every Christian land,
- Is when chaste matrons to their other ties
- Add what may be call'd marriage in disguise.
LXXVII
- Well, we won't analyse -- our story must
- Tell for itself: the sovereign was smitten,
- Juan much flatter'd by her love, or lust; --
- I cannot stop to alter words once written,
- And the two are so mix'd with human dust,
- That he who names one, both perchance may hit on:
- But in such matters Russia's mighty empress
- Behaved no better than a common sempstress.
LXXVIII
- The whole court melted into one wide whisper,
- And all lips were applied unto all ears!
- The elder ladies' wrinkles curl'd much crisper
- As they beheld; the younger cast some leers
- On one another, and each lovely lisper
- Smiled as she talk'd the matter o'er; but tears
- Of rivalship rose in each clouded eye
- Of all the standing army who stood by.
LXXIX
- All the ambassadors of all the powers
- Enquired, Who was this very new young man,
- Who promised to be great in some few hours?
- Which is full soon -- though life is but a span.
- Already they beheld the silver showers
- Of rubles rain, as fast as specie can,
- Upon his cabinet, besides the presents
- Of several ribands, and some thousand peasants. [*]
LXXX
- Catherine was generous, -- all such ladies are:
- Love, that great opener of the heart and all
- The ways that lead there, be they near or far,
- Above, below, by turnpikes great or small, --
- Love (though she had a curséd taste for war,
- And was not the best wife, unless we call
- Such Clytemnestra, though perhaps 't is better
- That one should die, than two drag on the fetter) --
LXXXI
- Love had made Catherine make each lover's fortune,
- Unlike our own half-chaste Elizabeth,
- Whose avarice all disbursements did importune,
- If history, the grand liar, ever saith
- The truth; and though grief her old age might shorten,
- Because she put a favourite to death,
- Her vile, ambiguous method of flirtation,
- And stinginess, disgrace her sex and station.
LXXXII
- But when the levée rose, and all was bustle
- In the dissolving circle, all the nations'
- Ambassadors began as 't were to hustle
- Round the young man with their congratulations.
- Also the softer silks were heard to rustle
- Of gentle dames, among whose recreations
- It is to speculate on handsome faces,
- Especially when such lead to high places.
LXXXIII
- Juan, who found himself, he knew not how,
- A general object of attention, made
- His answers with a very graceful bow,
- As if born for the ministerial trade.
- Though modest, on his unembarrass'd brow
- Nature had written "gentleman." He said
- Little, but to the purpose; and his manner
- Flung hovering graces o'er him like a banner.
LXXXIV
- An order from her majesty consign'd
- Our young lieutenant to the genial care
- Of those in office: all the world look'd kind
- (As it will look sometimes with the first stare,
- Which youth would not act ill to keep in mind),
- As also did Miss Protasoff then there,
- Named from her mystic office "l'Eprouveuse,"
- A term inexplicable to the Muse.
LXXXV
- With her then, as in humble duty bound,
- Juan retired, -- and so will I, until
- My Pegasus shall tire of touching ground.
- We have just lit on a "heaven-kissing hill,"
- So lofty that I feel my brain turn round,
- And all my fancies whirling like a mill;
- Which is a signal to my nerves and brain,
- To take a quiet ride in some green Lane.