1 1 Oh ye! who teach the ingenuous youth of nations, 2 Holland, France, England, Germany, or Spain, 3 I pray ye flog them upon all occasions, 4 It mends their morals, never mind the pain: 5 The best of mothers and of educations 6 In Juan's case were but employ'd in vain, 7 Since in a way, that's rather of the oddest, he 8 Became divested of his native modesty. 2 9 Had he but been placed at a public school, 10 In the third form, or even in the fourth, 11 His daily task had kept his fancy cool, 12 At least, had he been nurtured in the north; 13 Spain may prove an exception to the rule, 14 But then exceptions always prove its worth--- 15 A lad of sixteen causing a divorce 16 Puzzled his tutors very much, of course. 3 17 I can't say that it puzzles me at all, 18 If all things be consider'd: first, there was 19 His lady-mother, mathematical, 20 A---never mind; his tutor, an old ass; 21 A pretty woman---(that's quite natural, 22 Or else the thing had hardly come to pass); 23 A husband rather old, not much in unity 24 With his young wife---a time, and opportunity. 4 25 Well---well, the world must turn upon its axis, 26 And all mankind turn with it, heads or tails, 27 And live and die, make love and pay our taxes, 28 And as the veering wind shifts, shift our sails; 29 The king commands us, and the doctor quacks us, 30 The priest instructs, and so our life exhales, 31 A little breath, love, wine, ambition, fame, 32 Fighting, devotion, dust,---perhaps a name. 5 33 I said, that Juan had been sent to Cadiz--- 34 A pretty town, I recollect it well--- 35 'Tis there the mart of the colonial trade is, 36 (Or was, before Peru learn'd to rebel) 37 And such sweet girls---I mean, such graceful ladies, 38 Their very walk would make your bosom swell; 39 I can't describe it, though so much it strike, 40 Nor liken it---I never saw the like: 6 41 An Arab horse, a stately stag, a barb 42 New broke, a camelopard, a gazelle, 43 No---none of these will do;---and then their garb! 44 Their veil and petticoat---Alas! to dwell 45 Upon such things would very near absorb 46 A canto---then their feet and ancles---well, 47 Thank heaven I've got no metaphor quite ready, 48 (And so, my sober Muse---come, let's be steady--- 7 49 Chaste Muse!---(well, if you must, you must)---the veil 50 Thrown back a moment with the glancing hand, 51 While the o'erpowering eye, that turns you pale, 52 Flashes into the heart:---All sunny land 53 Of love! when I forget you, may I fail 54 To---say my prayers---but never was there plann'd 55 A dress through which the eyes give such a volley, 56 Excepting the Venetian Fazzioli. 8 57 But to our tale: the Donna Inez sent 58 Her son to Cadiz only to embark; 59 To stay there had not answer'd her intent, 60 But why?---we leave the reader in the dark--- 61 'Twas for a voyage that the young man was meant, 62 As if a Spanish ship were Noah's ark, 63 To wean him from the wickedness of earth, 64 And send him like a dove of promise forth. 9 65 Don Juan bade his valet pack his things 66 According to direction, then received 67 A lecture and some money: for four springs 68 He was to travel; and though Inez grieved, 69 (As every kind of parting has its stings) 70 She hoped he would improve---perhaps believed: 71 A letter, too, she gave (he never read it) 72 Of good advice---and two or three of credit. 10 73 In the mean time, to pass her hours away, 74 Brave Inez now set up a Sunday school 75 For naughty children, who would rather play 76 (Like truant rogues) the devil, or the fool; 77 Infants of three years old were taught that day, 78 Dunces were whipt, or set upon a stool: 79 The great success of Juan's education, 80 Spurr'd her to teach another generation. 11 81 Juan embark'd---the ship got under way, 82 The wind was fair, the water passing rough; 83 A devil of a sea rolls in that Bay, 84 As I, who've cross'd it oft, know well enough; 85 And, standing upon deck, the dashing spray 86 Flies in one's face, and makes it weather-tough: 87 And there he stood to take, and take again, 88 His first---perhaps his last---farewell of Spain. 12 89 I can't but say it is an awkward sight 90 To see one's native land receding through 91 The growing waters; it unmans one quite, 92 Especially when life is rather new: 93 I recollect Great Britain's coast looks white, 94 But almost every other country's blue, 95 When gazing on them, mystified by distance, 96 We enter on our nautical existence. 13 97 So Juan stood, bewilder'd, on the deck: 98 The wind sung, cordage strain'd, and sailors swore, 99 And the ship creak'd, the town became a speck, 100 From which away so fair and fast they bore. 101 The best of remedies is a beef-steak 102 Against sea-sickness; try it, sir, before 103 You sneer, and I assure you this is true, 104 For I have found it answer---so may you. 14 105 Don Juan stood, and, gazing from the stern, 106 Beheld his native Spain receding far: 107 First partings form a lesson hard to learn, 108 Even nations feel this when they go to war; 109 There is a sort of unexprest concern, 110 A kind of shock that sets one's heart ajar: 111 At leaving even the most unpleasant people 112 And places, one keeps looking at the steeple. 15 113 But Juan had got many things to leave, 114 His mother, and a mistress, and no wife, 115 So that he had much better cause to grieve 116 Than many persons more advanced in life; 117 And if we now and then a sigh must heave 118 At quitting even those we quit in strife, 119 No doubt we weep for those the heart endears--- 120 That is, till deeper griefs congeal our tears. 16 121 So Juan wept, as wept the captive Jews 122 By Babel's waters, still remembering Sion: 123 I'd weep, but mine is not a weeping Muse, 124 And such light griefs are not a thing to die on; 125 Young men should travel, if but to amuse 126 Themselves; and the next time their servants tie on 127 Behind their carriages their new portmanteau, 128 Perhaps it may be lined with this my canto. 17 129 And Juan wept, and much he sigh'd and thought, 130 While his salt tears dropp'd into the salt sea, 131 "Sweets to the sweet"; (I like so much to quote; 132 You must excuse this extract, 'tis where she, 133 The Queen of Denmark, for Ophelia brought 134 Flowers to the grave); and, sobbing often, he 135 Reflected on his present situation, 136 And seriously resolved on reformation. 18 137 "Farewell, my Spain! a long farewell!" he cried, 138 "Perhaps I may revisit thee no more, 139 But die, as many an exiled heart hath died, 140 Of its own thirst to see again thy shore: 141 Farewell, where Guadalquivir's waters glide! 142 Farewell, my mother! and, since all is o'er, 143 Farewell, too dearest Julia!"---(here he drew 144 Her letter out again, and read it through). 19 145 "And oh! if e'er I should forget, I swear--- 146 But that's impossible, and cannot be--- 147 Sooner shall this blue ocean melt to air, 148 Sooner shall earth resolve itself to sea, 149 Than I resign thine image, Oh! my fair! 150 Or think of any thing excepting thee; 151 A mind diseased no remedy can physic---" 152 (Here the ship gave a lurch, and he grew sea-sick.) 20 153 "Sooner shall heaven kiss earth---" (here he fell sicker) 154 "Oh, Julia! what is every other woe?--- 155 (For God's sake let me have a glass of liquor, 156 Pedro, Battista, help me down below.) 157 Julia, my love!---(you rascal, Pedro, quicker)--- 158 Oh Julia!---(this curst vessel pitches so)--- 159 Beloved Julia, hear me still beseeching!" 160 (Here he grew inarticulate with retching.) 21 161 He felt that chilling heaviness of heart, 162 Or rather stomach, which, alas! attends, 163 Beyond the best apothecary's art, 164 The loss of love, the treachery of friends, 165 Or death of those we dote on, when a part 166 Of us dies with them as each fond hope ends: 167 No doubt he would have been much more pathetic, 168 But the sea acted as a strong emetic. 22 169 Love's a capricious power; I've known it hold 170 Out through a fever caused by its own heat, 171 But be much puzzled by a cough and cold, 172 And find a quinsy very hard to treat; 173 Against all noble maladies he's bold, 174 But vulgar illnesses don't like to meet, 175 Nor that a sneeze should interrupt his sigh, 176 Nor inflammations redden his blind eye. 23 177 But worst of all is nausea, or a pain 178 About the lower region of the bowels; 179 Love, who heroically breathes a vein, 180 Shrinks from the application of hot towels, 181 And purgatives are dangerous to his reign, 182 Sea-sickness death: his love was perfect, how else 183 Could Juan's passion, while the billows roar, 184 Resist his stomach, ne'er at sea before? 24 185 The ship, call'd the most holy "Trinidada," 186 Was steering duly for the port Leghorn; 187 For there the Spanish family Moncada 188 Were settled long ere Juan's sire was born: 189 They were relations, and for them he had a 190 Letter of introduction, which the morn 191 Of his departure had been sent him by 192 His Spanish friends for those in Italy. 25 193 His suite consisted of three servants and 194 A tutor, the licentiate Pedrillo, 195 Who several languages did understand, 196 But now lay sick and speechless on his pillow, 197 And, rocking in his hammock, long'd for land, 198 His headache being increased by every billow; 199 And the waves oozing through the port-hole made 200 His birth a little damp, and him afraid. 26 201 'Twas not without some reason, for the wind 202 Increased at night, until it blew a gale; 203 And though 'twas not much to a naval mind, 204 Some landsmen would have look'd a little pale, 205 For sailors are, in fact, a different kind: 206 At sunset they began to take in sail, 207 For the sky show'd it would come on to blow, 208 And carry away, perhaps, a mast or so. 27 209 At one o'clock the wind with sudden shift 210 Threw the ship right into the trough of the sea, 211 Which struck her aft, and made an awkward rift, 212 Started the stern-post, also shatter'd the 213 Whole of her stern-frame, and ere she could lift 214 Herself from out her present jeopardy 215 The rudder tore away: 'twas time to sound 216 The pumps, and there were four feet water found. 28 217 One gang of people instantly was put 218 Upon the pumps, and the remainder set 219 To get up part of the cargo, and what not, 220 But they could not come at the leak as yet; 221 At last they did get at it really, but 222 Still their salvation was an even bet: 223 The water rush'd through in a way quite puzzling, 224 While they thrust sheets, shirts, jackets, bales of muslin, 29 225 Into the opening; but all such ingredients 226 Would have been vain, and they must have gone down, 227 Despite of all their efforts and expedients, 228 But for the pumps: I'm glad to make them known 229 To all the brother tars who may have need hence, 230 For fifty tons of water were upthrown 231 By them per hour, and they had all been undone 232 But for the maker, Mr. Mann, of London. 30 233 As day advanced the weather seem'd to abate, 234 And then the leak they reckon'd to reduce, 235 And keep the ship afloat, though three feet yet 236 Kept two hand and one chain-pump still in use. 237 The wind blew fresh again: as it grew late 238 A squall came on, and while some guns broke loose, 239 A gust---which all descriptive power transcends--- 240 Laid with one blast the ship on her beam ends. 31 241 There she lay, motionless, and seem'd upset; 242 The water left the hold, and wash'd the decks, 243 And made a scene men do not soon forget; 244 For they remember battles, fires, and wrecks, 245 Or any other thing that brings regret, 246 Or breaks their hopes, or hearts, or heads, or necks: 247 Thus drownings are much talk'd of by the divers 248 And swimmers who may chance to be survivors. 32 249 Immediately the masts were cut away, 250 Both main and mizen; first the mizen went, 251 The mainmast follow'd: but the ship still lay 252 Like a mere log, and baffled our intent. 253 Foremast and bowsprit were cut down, and they 254 Eased her at last (although we never meant 255 To part with all till every hope was blighted), 256 And then with violence the old ship righted. 33 257 It may be easily supposed, while this 258 Was going on, some people were unquiet, 259 That passengers would find it much amiss 260 To lose their lives as well as spoil their diet; 261 That even the able seaman, deeming his 262 Days nearly o'er, might be disposed to riot, 263 As upon such occasions tars will ask 264 For grog, and sometimes drink rum from the cask. 34 265 There's nought, no doubt, so much the spirit calms 266 As rum and true religion; thus it was, 267 Some plunder'd, some drank spirits, some sung psalms, 268 The high wind made the treble, and as bass 269 The hoarse harsh waves kept time; fright cured the qualms 270 Of all the luckless landsmen's sea-sick maws: 271 Strange sounds of wailing, blasphemy, devotion, 272 Clamour'd in chorus to the roaring ocean. 35 273 Perhaps more mischief had been done, but for 274 Our Juan, who, with sense beyond his years, 275 Got to the spirit-room, and stood before 276 It with a pair of pistols; and their fears, 277 As if Death were more dreadful by his door 278 Of fire than water, spite of oaths and tears, 279 Kept still aloof the crew, who, ere they sunk, 280 Thought it would be becoming to die drunk. 36 281 "Give us more grog," they cried, "for it will be 282 All one an hour hence." Juan answer'd, "No! 283 'Tis true that death awaits both you and me, 284 But let us die like men, not sink below 285 Like brutes":---and thus his dangerous post kept he, 286 And none liked to anticipate the blow; 287 And even Pedrillo, his most reverend tutor, 288 Was for some rum a disappointed suitor. 37 289 The good old gentleman was quite aghast, 290 And made a loud and pious lamentation; 291 Repented all his sins, and made a last 292 Irrevocable vow of reformation; 293 Nothing should tempt him more (this peril past) 294 To quit his academic occupation, 295 In cloisters of the classic Salamanca, 296 To follow Juan's wake like Sancho Panca. 38 297 But now there came a flash of hope once more; 298 Day broke, and the wind lull'd: the masts were gone, 299 The leak increased; shoals round her, but no shore, 300 The vessel swam, yet still she held her own. 301 They tried the pumps again, and though before 302 Their desperate efforts seem'd all useless grown, 303 A glimpse of sunshine set some hands to bale--- 304 The stronger pump'd, the weaker thrumm'd a sail. 39 305 Under the vessel's keel the sail was past, 306 And for the moment it had some effect; 307 But with a leak, and not a stick of mast, 308 Nor rag of canvas, what could they expect? 309 But still 'tis best to struggle to the last, 310 'Tis never too late to be wholly wreck'd: 311 And though 'tis true that man can only die once, 312 'Tis not so pleasant in the Gulf of Lyons. 40 313 There winds and waves had hurl'd them and from thence, 314 Without their will, they carried them away; 315 For they were forced with steering to dispense, 316 And never had as yet a quiet day 317 On which they might repose, or even commence 318 A jurymast or rudder, or could say 319 The ship would swim an hour, which, by good luck, 320 Still swam---though not exactly like a duck. 41 321 The wind, in fact, perhaps was rather less, 322 But the ship labour'd so, they scarce could hope 323 To weather out much longer; the distress 324 Was also great with which they had to cope 325 For want of water, and their solid mess 326 Was scant enough: in vain the telescope 327 Was used---nor sail nor shore appear'd in sight, 328 Nought but the heavy sea, and coming night. 42 329 Again the weather threaten'd,---again blew 330 A gale, and in the fore and after hold 331 Water appear'd; yet, though the people knew 332 All this, the most were patient, and some bold, 333 Until the chains and leathers were worn through 334 Of all our pumps:---a wreck complete she roll'd, 335 At mercy of the waves, whose mercies are 336 Like human beings during civil war. 43 337 Then came the carpenter, at last, with tears 338 In his rough eyes, and told the captain, he 339 Could do no more; he was a man in years, 340 And long had voyaged through many a stormy sea, 341 And if he wept at length, they were not fears 342 That made his eyelids as a woman's be, 343 But he, poor fellow, had a wife and children, 344 Two things for dying people quite bewildering. 44 345 The ship was evidently settling now 346 Fast by the head; and, all distinction gone, 347 Some went to prayers again, and made a vow 348 Of candles to their saints---but there were none 349 To pay them with; and some look'd o'er the bow; 350 Some hoisted out the boats; and there was one 351 That begg'd Pedrillo for an absolution, 352 Who told him to be damn'd---in his confusion. 45 353 Some lash'd them in their hammocks, some put on 354 Their best clothes, as if going to a fair; 355 Some cursed the day on which they saw the sun, 356 And gnash'd their teeth, and, howling, tore their hair; 357 And others went on as they had begun, 358 Getting the boats out, being well aware 359 That a tight boat will live in a rough sea, 360 Unless with breakers close beneath her lee. 46 361 The worst of all was, that in their condition, 362 Having been several days in great distress, 363 'Twas difficult to get out such provision 364 As now might render their long suffering less: 365 Men, even when dying, dislike inanition; 366 Their stock was damaged by the weather's stress: 367 Two casks of biscuit, and a keg of butter, 368 Were all that could be thrown into the cutter. 47 369 But in the long-boat they contrived to stow 370 Some pounds of bread, though injured by the wet; 371 Water, a twenty gallon cask or so; 372 Six flasks of wine; and they contrived to get 373 A portion of their beef up from below, 374 And with a piece of pork, moreover, met, 375 But scarce enough to serve them for a luncheon--- 376 Then there was rum, eight gallons in a puncheon. 48 377 The other boats, the yawl and pinnace, had 378 Been stove in the beginning of the gale; 379 And the long-boat's condition was but bad, 380 As there were but two blankets for a sail, 381 And one oar for a mast, which a young lad 382 Threw in by good luck over the ship's rail; 383 And two boats could not hold, far less be stored, 384 To save one half the people then on board. 49 385 'Twas twilight, and the sunless day went down 386 Over the waste of waters; like a veil, 387 Which, if withdrawn, would but disclose the frown 388 Of one whose hate is masked but to assail, 389 Thus to their hopeless eyes the night was shown 390 And grimly darkled o'er their faces pale, 391 And the dim desolate deep: twelve days had Fear 392 Been their familiar, and now Death was here. 50 393 Some trial had been making at a raft, 394 With little hope in such a rolling sea, 395 A sort of thing at which one would have laugh'd, 396 If any laughter at such times could be, 397 Unless with people who too much have quaff'd, 398 And have a kind of wild and horrid glee, 399 Half epileptical, and half hysterical:--- 400 Their preservation would have been a miracle. 51 401 At half-past eight o'clock, booms, hencoops, spars, 402 And all things, for a chance, had been cast loose, 403 That still could keep afloat the struggling tars, 404 For yet they strove, although of no great use: 405 There was no light in heaven but a few stars, 406 The boats put off o'ercrowded with their crews; 407 She gave a heel, and then a lurch to port, 408 And, going down head foremost---sunk, in short. 52 409 Then rose from sea to sky the wild farewell, 410 Then shriek'd the timid, and stood still the brave, 411 Then some leap'd overboard with dreadful yell, 412 As eager to anticipate their grave; 413 And the sea yawn'd around her like a hell, 414 And down she suck'd with her the whirling wave, 415 Like one who grapples with his enemy, 416 And strives to strangle him before he die. 53 417 And first one universal shriek there rush'd, 418 Louder than the loud ocean, like a crash 419 Of echoing thunder; and then all was hush'd, 420 Save the wild wind and the remorseless dash 421 Of billows; but at intervals there gush'd, 422 Accompanied with a convulsive splash, 423 A solitary shriek, the bubbling cry 424 Of some strong swimmer in his agony. 54 425 The boats, as stated, had got off before, 426 And in them crowded several of the crew; 427 And yet their present hope was hardly more 428 Than what it had been, for so strong it blew 429 There was slight chance of reaching any shore; 430 And then they were too many, though so few--- 431 Nine in the cutter, thirty in the boat, 432 Were counted in them when they got afloat. 55 433 All the rest perish'd; near two hundred souls 434 Had left their bodies; and, what's worse, alas! 435 When over Catholics the ocean rolls, 436 They must wait several weeks before a mass 437 Takes off one peck of purgatorial coals, 438 Because, till people know what's come to pass, 439 They won't lay out their money on the dead--- 440 It costs three francs for every mass that's said. 56 441 Juan got into the long-boat, and there 442 Contrived to help Pedrillo to a place; 443 It seem'd as if they had exchanged their care, 444 For Juan wore the magisterial face 445 Which courage gives, while poor Pedrillo's pair 446 Of eyes were crying for their owner's case: 447 Battista, though, (a name call'd shortly Tita) 448 Was lost by getting at some aqua-vita. 57 449 Pedro, his valet, too, he tried to save, 450 But the same cause, conducive to his loss, 451 Left him so drunk, he jump'd into the wave 452 As o'er the cutter's edge he tried to cross, 453 And so he found a wine-and-watery grave; 454 They could not rescue him although so close, 455 Because the sea ran higher every minute, 456 And for the boat---the crew kept crowding in it. 58 457 A small old spaniel,---which had been Don Jóse's, 458 His father's, whom he loved, as ye may think, 459 For on such things the memory reposes 460 With tenderness,---stood howling on the brink, 461 Knowing, (dogs have such intellectual noses!) 462 No doubt, the vessel was about to sink; 463 And Juan caught him up, and ere he stepp'd 464 Off, threw him in, then after him he leap'd. 59 465 He also stuff'd his money where he could 466 About his person, and Pedrillo's too, 467 Who let him do, in fact, whate'er he would, 468 Not knowing what himself to say, or do, 469 As every rising wave his dread renew'd; 470 But Juan, trusting they might still get through, 471 And deeming there were remedies for any ill, 472 Thus re-embark'd his tutor and his spaniel. 60 473 'Twas a rough night, and blew so stiffly yet, 474 That the sail was becalm'd between the seas, 475 Though on the wave's high top too much to set, 476 They dared not take it in for all the breeze; 477 Each sea curl'd o'er the stern, and kept them wet, 478 And made them bale without a moment's ease, 479 So that themselves as well as hopes were damp'd, 480 And the poor little cutter quickly swamp'd. 61 481 Nine souls more went in her: the long-boat still 482 Kept above water, with an oar for mast, 483 Two blankets stitch'd together, answering ill 484 Instead of sail, were to the oar made fast: 485 Though every wave roll'd menacing to fill, 486 And present peril all before surpass'd, 487 They grieved for those who perish'd with the cutter, 488 And also for the biscuit casks and butter. 62 489 The sun rose red and fiery, a sure sign 490 Of the continuance of the gale: to run 491 Before the sea, until it should grow fine, 492 Was all that for the present could be done: 493 A few tea-spoonfuls of their rum and wine 494 Was served out to the people, who begun 495 To faint, and damaged bread wet through the bags, 496 And most of them had little clothes but rags. 63 497 They counted thirty, crowded in a space 498 Which left scarce room for motion or exertion; 499 They did their best to modify their case, 500 One half sate up, though numb'd with the immersion, 501 While t'other half were laid down in their place, 502 At watch and watch; thus, shivering like the tertian 503 Ague in its cold fit, they fill'd their boat, 504 With nothing but the sky for a great coat. 64 505 'Tis very certain the desire of life 506 Prolongs it; this is obvious to physicians, 507 When patients, neither plagued with friends nor wife, 508 Survive through very desperate conditions, 509 Because they still can hope, nor shines the knife 510 Nor shears of Atropos before their visions: 511 Despair of all recovery spoils longevity, 512 And makes men's miseries of alarming brevity. 65 513 'Tis said that persons living on annuities 514 Are longer lived than others,---God knows why, 515 Unless to plague the grantors,---yet so true it is, 516 That some, I really think, do never die; 517 Of any creditors the worst a Jew it is, 518 And that's their mode of furnishing supply: 519 In my young days they lent me cash that way, 520 Which I found very troublesome to pay. 66 521 'Tis thus with people in an open boat, 522 They live upon the love of life, and bear 523 More than can be believed, or even thought, 524 And stand like rocks the tempest's wear and tear; 525 And hardship still has been the sailor's lot, 526 Since Noah's ark went cruising here and there; 527 She had a curious crew as well as cargo, 528 Like the first old Greek privateer, the Argo. 67 529 But man is a carnivorous production, 530 And must have meals, at least one meal a day; 531 He cannot live, like woodcocks, upon suction, 532 But, like the shark and tiger, must have prey: 533 Although his anatomical construction 534 Bears vegetables in a grumbling way, 535 Your labouring people think beyond all question, 536 Beef, veal, and mutton, better for digestion. 68 537 And thus it was with this our hapless crew; 538 For on the third day there came on a calm, 539 And though at first their strength it might renew, 540 And lying on their weariness like balm, 541 Lull'd them like turtles sleeping on the blue 542 Of ocean, when they woke they felt a qualm, 543 And fell all ravenously on their provision, 544 Instead of hoarding it with due precision. 69 545 The consequence was easily foreseen--- 546 They ate up all they had, and drank their wine, 547 In spite of all remonstrances, and then 548 On what, in fact, next day were they to dine? 549 They hoped the wind would rise, these foolish men! 550 And carry them to shore; these hopes were fine, 551 But as they had but one oar, and that brittle, 552 It would have been more wise to save their victual. 70 553 The fourth day came, but not a breath of air, 554 And Ocean slumber'd like an unwean'd child: 555 The fifth day, and their boat lay floating there, 556 The sea and sky were blue, and clear, and mild--- 557 With their one oar (I wish they had had a pair) 558 What could they do? and hunger's rage grew wild: 559 So Juan's spaniel, spite of his entreating, 560 Was kill'd, and portion'd out for present eating. 71 561 On the sixth day they fed upon his hide, 562 And Juan, who had still refused, because 563 The creature was his father's dog that died, 564 Now feeling all the vulture in his jaws, 565 With some remorse received (though first denied) 566 As a great favour one of the fore-paws, 567 Which he divided with Pedrillo, who 568 Devour'd it, longing for the other too. 72 569 The seventh day, and no wind---the burning sun 570 Blister'd and scorch'd, and, stagnant on the sea, 571 They lay like carcasses; and hope was none, 572 Save in the breeze that came not; savagely 573 They glared upon each other---all was done, 574 Water, and wine, and food,---and you might see 575 The longings of the cannibal arise 576 (Although they spoke not) in their wolfish eyes. 73 577 At length one whisper'd his companion, who 578 Whisper'd another, and thus it went round, 579 And then into a hoarser murmur grew, 580 An ominous, and wild, and desperate sound, 581 And when his comrade's thought each sufferer knew, 582 'Twas but his own, suppress'd till now, he found: 583 And out they spoke of lots for flesh and blood, 584 And who should die to be his fellow's food. 74 585 But ere they came to this, they that day shared 586 Some leathern caps, and what remain'd of shoes; 587 And then they look'd around them, and despair'd, 588 And none to be the sacrifice would choose; 589 At length the lots were torn up, and prepared, 590 But of materials that much shock the Muse--- 591 Having no paper, for the want of better, 592 They took by force from Juan Julia's letter. 75 593 The lots were made, and mark'd, and mix'd, and handed, 594 In silent horror, and their distribution 595 Lull'd even the savage hunger which demanded, 596 Like the Promethean vulture, this pollution; 597 None in particular had sought or plann'd it, 598 'Twas nature gnaw'd them to this resolution, 599 By which none were permitted to be neuter--- 600 And the lot fell on Juan's luckless tutor. 76 601 He but requested to be bled to death: 602 The surgeon had his instruments, and bled 603 Pedrillo, and so gently ebb'd his breath, 604 You hardly could perceive when he was dead. 605 He died as born, a Catholic in faith, 606 Like most in the belief in which they're bred, 607 And first a little crucifix he kiss'd, 608 And then held out his jugular and wrist. 77 609 The surgeon, as there was no other fee, 610 Had his first choice of morsels for his pains; 611 But being thirstiest at the moment, he 612 Preferr'd a draught from the fast-flowing veins: 613 Part was divided, part thrown in the sea, 614 And such things as the entrails and the brains 615 Regaled two sharks, who follow'd o'er the billow--- 616 The sailors ate the rest of poor Pedrillo. 78 617 The sailors ate him, all save three or four, 618 Who were not quite so fond of animal food; 619 To these was added Juan, who, before 620 Refusing his own spaniel, hardly could 621 Feel now his appetite increased much more; 622 'Twas not to be expected that he should, 623 Even in extremity of their disaster, 624 Dine with them on his pastor and his master. 79 625 'Twas better that he did not; for, in fact, 626 The consequence was awful in the extreme: 627 For they, who were most ravenous in the act, 628 Went raging mad---Lord! how they did blaspheme! 629 And foam and roll, with strange convulsions rack'd, 630 Drinking salt-water like a mountain-stream, 631 Tearing, and grinning, howling, screeching, swearing, 632 And, with hyaena laughter, died despairing. 80 633 Their numbers were much thinn'd by this infliction, 634 And all the rest were thin enough, heaven knows; 635 And some of them had lost their recollection, 636 Happier than they who still perceived their woes; 637 But others ponder'd on a new dissection, 638 As if not warn'd sufficiently by those 639 Who had already perish'd, suffering madly, 640 For having used their appetites so sadly. 81 641 And next they thought upon the master's mate, 642 As fattest; but he saved himself, because, 643 Besides being much averse from such a fate, 644 There were some other reasons; the first was, 645 He had been rather indisposed of late, 646 And that which chiefly proved his saving clause, 647 Was a small present made to him at Cadiz, 648 By general subscription of the ladies. 82 649 Of poor Pedrillo something still remain'd, 650 But was used sparingly,---some were afraid, 651 And others still their appetites constrain'd, 652 Or but at times a little supper made; 653 All except Juan, who throughout abstain'd, 654 Chewing a piece of bamboo, and some lead: 655 At length they caught two boobies, and a noddy, 656 And then they left off eating the dead body. 83 657 And if Pedrillo's fate should shocking be, 658 Remember Ugolino condescends 659 To eat the head of his arch-enemy 660 The moment after he politely ends 661 His tale; if foes be food in hell, at sea 662 'Tis surely fair to dine upon our friends, 663 When shipwreck's short allowance grows too scanty, 664 Without being much more horrible than Dante. 84 665 And the same night there fell a shower of rain, 666 For which their mouths gaped, like the cracks of earth 667 When dried to summer dust; till taught by pain, 668 Men really know not what good water's worth; 669 If you had been in Turkey or in Spain, 670 Or with a famish'd boat's-crew had your birth, 671 Or in the desert heard the camel's bell, 672 You'd wish yourself where Truth is---in a well. 85 673 It pour'd down torrents, but they were no richer 674 Until they found a ragged piece of sheet, 675 Which served them as a sort of spongy pitcher, 676 And when they deem'd its moisture was complete, 677 They wrung it out, and though a thirsty ditcher 678 Might not have thought the scanty draught so sweet 679 As a full pot of porter, to their thinking 680 They ne'er till now had known the joys of drinking. 86 681 And their baked lips, with many a bloody crack, 682 Suck'd in the moisture, which like nectar stream'd; 683 Their throats were ovens, their swoln tongues were black, 684 As the rich man's in hell, who vainly scream'd 685 To beg the beggar, who could not rain back 686 A drop of dew, when every drop had seem'd 687 To taste of heaven---If this be true, indeed, 688 Some Christians have a comfortable creed. 87 689 There were two fathers in this ghastly crew, 690 And with them their two sons, of whom the one 691 Was more robust and hardy to the view, 692 But he died early; and when he was gone, 693 His nearest messmate told his sire, who threw 694 One glance on him, and said, "Heaven's will be done! 695 I can do nothing," and he saw him thrown 696 Into the deep without a tear or groan. 88 697 The other father had a weaklier child, 698 Of a soft cheek, and aspect delicate; 699 But the boy bore up long, and with a mild 700 And patient spirit held aloof his fate; 701 Little he said, and now and then he smiled, 702 As if to win a part from off the weight 703 He saw increasing on his father's heart, 704 With the deep deadly thought, that they must part. 89 705 And o'er him bent his sire, and never raised 706 His eyes from off his face, but wiped the foam 707 From his pale lips, and ever on him gazed, 708 And when the wish'd-for shower at length was come, 709 And the boy's eyes, which the dull film half glazed, 710 Brighten'd, and for a moment seem'd to roam, 711 He squeezed from out a rag some drops of rain 712 Into his dying child's mouth---but in vain. 90 713 The boy expired---the father held the clay, 714 And look'd upon it long, and when at last 715 Death left no doubt, and the dead burthen lay 716 Stiff on his heart, and pulse and hope were past, 717 He watch'd it wistfully, until away 718 'Twas borne by the rude wave wherein 'twas cast; 719 Then he himself sunk down all dumb and shivering, 720 And gave no sign of life, save his limbs quivering. 91 721 Now overhead a rainbow, bursting through 722 The scattering clouds, shone, spanning the dark sea, 723 Resting its bright base on the quivering blue; 724 And all within its arch appear'd to be 725 Clearer than that without, and its wide hue 726 Wax'd broad and waving, like a banner free, 727 Then changed like to a bow that's bent, and then 728 Forsook the dim eyes of these shipwreck'd men. 92 729 It changed, of course; a heavenly cameleon, 730 The airy child of vapour and the sun, 731 Brought forth in purple, cradled in vermillion, 732 Baptized in molten gold, and swathed in dun, 733 Glittering like crescents o'er a Turk's pavilion, 734 And blending every colour into one, 735 Just like a black eye in a recent scuffle, 736 (For sometimes we must box without the muffle). 93 737 Our shipwreck'd seamen thought it a good omen--- 738 It is as well to think so, now and then; 739 'Twas an old custom of the Greek and Roman, 740 And may become of great advantage when 741 Folks are discouraged; and most surely no men 742 Had greater need to nerve themselves again 743 Than these, and so this rainbow look'd like hope--- 744 Quite a celestial kaleidoscope. 94 745 About this time a beautiful white bird, 746 Webfooted, not unlike a dove in size 747 And plumage, (probably it might have err'd 748 Upon its course) pass'd oft before their eyes, 749 And tried to perch, although it saw and heard 750 The men within the boat, and in this guise 751 It came and went, and flutter'd round them till 752 Night fell:---this seem'd a better omen still. 95 753 But in this case I also must remark, 754 'Twas well this bird of promise did not perch, 755 Because the tackle of our shatter'd bark 756 Was not so safe for roosting as a church; 757 And had it been the dove from Noah's ark, 758 Returning there from her successful search, 759 Which in their way that moment chanced to fall, 760 They would have eat her, olive-branch and all. 96 761 With twilight it again came on to blow, 762 But not with violence; the stars shone out, 763 The boat made way; yet now they were so low, 764 They knew not where nor what they were about; 765 Some fancied they saw land, and some said "No!" 766 The frequent fog-banks gave them cause to doubt--- 767 Some swore that they heard breakers, others guns, 768 And all mistook about the latter once. 97 769 As morning broke the light wind died away, 770 When he who had the watch sung out and swore, 771 If 'twas not land that rose with the sun's ray 772 He wish'd that land he never might see more; 773 And the rest rubb'd their eyes, and saw a bay, 774 Or thought they saw, and shaped their course for shore; 775 For shore it was, and gradually grew 776 Distinct, and high, and palpable to view. 98 777 And then of these some part burst into tears, 778 And others, looking with a stupid stare, 779 Could not yet separate their hopes from fears, 780 And seem'd as if they had no further care; 781 While a few pray'd---(the first time for some years)--- 782 And at the bottom of the boat three were 783 Asleep; they shook them by the hand and head, 784 And tried to awaken them, but found them dead. 99 785 The day before, fast sleeping on the water, 786 They found a turtle of the hawk's-bill kind, 787 And by good fortune gliding softly, caught her, 788 Which yielded a day's life, and to their mind 789 Proved even still a more nutritious matter, 790 Because it left encouragement behind: 791 They thought that in such perils, more than chance 792 Had sent them this for their deliverance. 100 793 The land appear'd a high and rocky coast, 794 And higher grew the mountains as they drew, 795 Set by a current, toward it: they were lost 796 In various conjectures, for none knew 797 To what part of the earth they had been tost, 798 So changeable had been the winds that blew; 799 Some thought it was Mount Aetna, some the highlands 800 Of Candia, Cyprus, Rhodes, or other islands. 101 801 Meantime the current, with a rising gale, 802 Still set them onwards to the welcome shore, 803 Like Charon's bark of spectres, dull and pale: 804 Their living freight was now reduced to four, 805 And three dead, whom their strength could not avail 806 To heave into the deep with those before, 807 Though the two sharks still follow'd them, and dash'd 808 The spray into their faces as they splash'd. 102 809 Famine, despair, cold, thirst, and heat, had done 810 Their work on them by turns, and thinn'd them to 811 Such things a mother had not known her son 812 Amidst the skeletons of that gaunt crew; 813 By night chill'd, by day scorch'd, thus one by one 814 They perish'd, until wither'd to these few, 815 But chiefly by a species of self-slaughter, 816 In washing down Pedrillo with salt water. 103 817 As they drew nigh the land, which now was seen 818 Unequal in its aspect here and there, 819 They felt the freshness of its growing green, 820 That waved in forest-tops, and smooth'd the air, 821 And fell upon their glazed eyes like a screen 822 From glistening waves, and skies so hot and bare--- 823 Lovely seem'd any object that should sweep 824 Away the vast, salt, dread, eternal deep. 104 825 The shore look'd wild, without a trace of man, 826 And girt by formidable waves; but they 827 Were mad for land, and thus their course they ran, 828 Though right ahead the roaring breakers lay: 829 A reef between them also now began 830 To show its boiling surf and bounding spray, 831 But finding no place for their landing better, 832 They ran the boat for shore, and overset her. 105 833 But in his native stream, the Guadalquivir, 834 Juan to lave his youthful limbs was wont; 835 And having learnt to swim in that sweet river, 836 Had often turn'd the art to some account: 837 A better swimmer you could scarce see ever, 838 He could, perhaps, have pass'd the Hellespont, 839 As once (a feat on which ourselves we prided) 840 Leander, Mr. Ekenhead, and I did. 106 841 So here, though faint, emaciated, and stark, 842 He buoy'd his boyish limbs, and strove to ply 843 With the quick wave, and gain, ere it was dark, 844 The beach which lay before him, high and dry: 845 The greatest danger here was from a shark, 846 That carried off his neighbour by the thigh; 847 As for the other two they could not swim, 848 So nobody arrived on shore but him. 107 849 Nor yet had he arrived but for the oar, 850 Which, providentially for him, was wash'd 851 Just as his feeble arms could strike no more, 852 And the hard wave o'erwhelm'd him as 'twas dash'd 853 Within his grasp; he clung to it, and sore 854 The waters beat while he thereto was lash'd; 855 At last, with swimming, wading, scrambling, he 856 Roll'd on the beach, half senseless, from the sea: 108 857 There, breathless, with his digging nails he clung 858 Fast to the sand, lest the returning wave, 859 From whose reluctant roar his life he wrung, 860 Should suck him back to her insatiate grave: 861 And there he lay, full length, where he was flung, 862 Before the entrance of a cliff-worn cave, 863 With just enough of life to feel its pain, 864 And deem that it was saved, perhaps, in vain. 109 865 With slow and staggering effort he arose, 866 But sunk again upon his bleeding knee 867 And quivering hand; and then he look'd for those 868 Who long had been his mates upon the sea, 869 But none of them appear'd to share his woes, 870 Save one, a corpse from out the famish'd three, 871 Who died two days before, and now had found 872 An unknown barren beach for burial ground. 110 873 And as he gazed, his dizzy brain spun fast, 874 And down he sunk; and as he sunk, the sand 875 Swam round and round, and all his senses pass'd: 876 He fell upon his side, and his stretch'd hand 877 Droop'd dripping on the oar, (their jury-mast) 878 And, like a wither'd lily, on the land 879 His slender frame and pallid aspect lay, 880 As fair a thing as e'er was form'd of clay. 111 881 How long in his damp trance young Juan lay 882 He knew not, for the earth was gone for him, 883 And Time had nothing more of night nor day 884 For his congealing blood, and senses dim; 885 And how this heavy faintness pass'd away 886 He knew not, till each painful pulse and limb, 887 And tingling vein, seem'd throbbing back to life, 888 For Death, though vanquish'd, still retired with strife. 112 889 His eyes he open'd, shut, again unclosed, 890 For all was doubt and dizziness; he thought 891 He still was in the boat, and had but dozed, 892 And felt again with his despair o'erwrought, 893 And wish'd it death in which he had reposed, 894 And then once more his feelings back were brought, 895 And slowly by his swimming eyes was seen 896 A lovely female face of seventeen. 113 897 'Twas bending close o'er his, and the small mouth 898 Seem'd almost prying into his for breath; 899 And chafing him, the soft warm hand of youth 900 Recall'd his answering spirits back from death; 901 And, bathing his chill temples, tried to soothe 902 Each pulse to animation, till beneath 903 Its gentle touch and trembling care, a sigh 904 To these kind efforts made a low reply. 114 905 Then was the cordial pour'd, and mantle flung 906 Around his scarce-clad limbs; and the fair arm 907 Raised higher the faint head which o'er it hung; 908 And her transparent cheek, all pure and warm, 909 Pillow'd his death-like forehead; then she wrung 910 His dewy curls, long drench'd by every storm; 911 And watch'd with eagerness each throb that drew 912 A sigh from his heaved bosom---and hers, too. 115 913 And lifting him with care into the cave, 914 The gentle girl, and her attendant,---one 915 Young, yet her elder, and of brow less grave, 916 And more robust of figure,---then begun 917 To kindle fire, and as the new flames gave 918 Light to the rocks that roof'd them, which the sun 919 Had never seen, the maid, or whatsoe'er 920 She was, appear'd distinct, and tall, and fair. 116 921 Her brow was overhung with coins of gold, 922 That sparkled o'er the auburn of her hair, 923 Her clustering hair, whose longer locks were roll'd 924 In braids behind, and though her stature were 925 Even of the highest for a female mould, 926 They nearly reach'd her heel; and in her air 927 There was a something which bespoke command, 928 As one who was a lady in the land. 117 929 Her hair, I said, was auburn; but her eyes 930 Were black as death, their lashes the same hue, 931 Of downcast length, in whose silk shadow lies 932 Deepest attraction, for when to the view 933 Forth from its raven fringe the full glance flies, 934 Ne'er with such force the swiftest arrow flew; 935 'Tis as the snake late coil'd, who pours his length, 936 And hurls at once his venom and his strength. 118 937 Her brow was white and low, her cheek's pure dye 938 Like twilight rosy still with the set sun; 939 Short upper lip---sweet lips! that make us sigh 940 Ever to have seen such; for she was one 941 Fit for the model of a statuary, 942 (A race of mere impostors, when all's done--- 943 I've seen much finer women, ripe and real, 944 Than all the nonsense of their stone ideal). 119 945 I'll tell you why I say so, for 'tis just 946 One should not rail without a decent cause: 947 There was an Irish lady, to whose bust 948 I ne'er saw justice done, and yet she was 949 A frequent model; and if e'er she must 950 Yield to stern Time and Nature's wrinkling laws, 951 They will destroy a face which mortal thought 952 Ne'er compass'd, nor less mortal chisel wrought. 120 953 And such was she, the lady of the cave: 954 Her dress was very different from the Spanish, 955 Simpler, and yet of colours not so grave; 956 For, as you know, the Spanish women banish 957 Bright hues when out of doors, and yet, while wave 958 Around them (what I hope will never vanish) 959 The basquina and the mantilla, they 960 Seem at the same time mystical and gay. 121 961 But with our damsel this was not the case: 962 Her dress was many-colour'd, finely spun; 963 Her locks curl'd negligently round her face, 964 But through them gold and gems profusely shone; 965 Her girdle sparkled, and the richest lace 966 Flow'd in her veil, and many a precious stone 967 Flash'd on her little hand; but, what was shocking, 968 Her small snow feet had slippers, but no stocking. 122 969 The other female's dress was not unlike, 970 But of inferior materials; she 971 Had not so many ornaments to strike, 972 Her hair had silver only, bound to be 973 Her dowry; and her veil, in form alike, 974 Was coarser; and her air, though firm, less free; 975 Her hair was thicker, but less long; her eyes 976 As black, but quicker, and of smaller size. 123 977 And these two tended him, and cheer'd him both 978 With food and raiment, and those soft attentions, 979 Which are (as I must own) of female growth, 980 And have ten thousand delicate inventions: 981 They made a most superior mess of broth, 982 A thing which poesy but seldom mentions, 983 But the best dish that e'er was cook'd since Homer's 984 Achilles order'd dinner for new comers. 124 985 I'll tell you who they were, this female pair, 986 Lest they should seem princesses in disguise; 987 Besides, I hate all mystery, and that air 988 Of clap-trap, which your recent poets prize; 989 And so, in short, the girls they really were 990 They shall appear before your curious eyes, 991 Mistress and maid; the first was only daughter 992 Of an old man, who lived upon the water. 125 993 A fisherman he had been in his youth, 994 And still a sort of fisherman was he; 995 But other speculations were, in sooth, 996 Added to his connexion with the sea, 997 Perhaps not so respectable, in truth: 998 A little smuggling, and some piracy, 999 Left him, at last, the sole of many masters 1000 Of an ill-gotten million of piastres. 126 1001 A fisher, therefore, was he---though of men, 1002 Like Peter the Apostle,---and he fish'd 1003 For wandering merchant vessels, now and then, 1004 And sometimes caught as many as he wish'd; 1005 The cargoes he confiscated, and gain 1006 He sought in the slave-market too, and dish'd 1007 Full many a morsel for that Turkish trade, 1008 By which, no doubt, a good deal may be made. 127 1009 He was a Greek, and on his isle had built 1010 (One of the wild and smaller Cyclades) 1011 A very handsome house from out his guilt, 1012 And there he lived exceedingly at ease; 1013 Heaven knows what cash he got, or blood he spilt, 1014 A sad old fellow was he, if you please, 1015 But this I know, it was a spacious building, 1016 Full of barbaric carving, paint, and gilding. 128 1017 He had an only daughter, call'd Haidée, 1018 The greatest heiress of the Eastern Isles; 1019 Besides, so very beautiful was she, 1020 Her dowry was as nothing to her smiles: 1021 Still in her teens, and like a lovely tree 1022 She grew to womanhood, and between whiles 1023 Rejected several suitors, just to learn 1024 How to accept a better in his turn. 129 1025 And walking out upon the beach, below 1026 The cliff, towards sunset, on that day she found, 1027 Insensible,---not dead, but nearly so,--- 1028 Don Juan, almost famish'd, and half drown'd; 1029 But being naked, she was shock'd, you know, 1030 Yet deem'd herself in common pity bound, 1031 As far as in her lay, "to take him in, 1032 A stranger" dying, with so white a skin. 130 1033 But taking him into her father's house 1034 Was not exactly the best way to save, 1035 But like conveying to the cat the mouse, 1036 Or people in a trance into their grave; 1037 Because the good old man had so much " " 1038 Unlike the honest Arab thieves so brave, 1039 He would have hospitably cured the stranger, 1040 And sold him instantly when out of danger. 131 1041 And therefore, with her maid, she thought it best 1042 (A virgin always on her maid relies) 1043 To place him in the cave for present rest: 1044 And when, at last, he open'd his black eyes, 1045 Their charity increased about their guest; 1046 And their compassion grew to such a size, 1047 It open'd half the turnpike-gates to heaven--- 1048 (St. Paul says 'tis the toll which must be given). 132 1049 They made a fire, but such a fire as they 1050 Upon the moment could contrive with such 1051 Materials as were cast up round the bay, 1052 Some broken planks, and oars, that to the touch 1053 Were nearly tinder, since so long they lay 1054 A mast was almost crumbled to a crutch; 1055 But, by God's grace, here wrecks were in such plenty, 1056 That there was fuel to have furnish'd twenty. 133 1057 He had a bed of furs, and a pelisse, 1058 For Haidée stripp'd her sables off to make 1059 His couch; and, that he might be more at ease, 1060 And warm, in case by chance he should awake, 1061 They also gave a petticoat apiece, 1062 She and her maid, and promised by day-break 1063 To pay him a fresh visit, with a dish 1064 For breakfast, of eggs, coffee, bread, and fish. 134 1065 And thus they left him to his lone repose: 1066 Juan slept like a top, or like the dead, 1067 Who sleep at last, perhaps, (God only knows) 1068 Just for the present; and in his lull'd head 1069 Not even a vision of his former woes 1070 Throbb'd in accursed dreams, which sometimes spread 1071 Unwelcome visions of our former years, 1072 Till the eye, cheated, opens thick with tears. 135 1073 Young Juan slept all dreamless:---but the maid, 1074 Who smooth'd his pillow, as she left the den 1075 Look'd back upon him, and a moment staid, 1076 And turn'd, believing that he call'd again. 1077 He slumber'd; yet she thought, at least she said, 1078 (The heart will slip even as the tongue and pen) 1079 He had pronounced her name---but she forgot 1080 That at this moment Juan knew it not. 136 1081 And pensive to her father's house she went, 1082 Enjoining silence strict to Zoe, who 1083 Better than her knew what, in fact, she meant, 1084 She being wiser by a year or two: 1085 A year or two's an age when rightly spent, 1086 And Zoe spent hers, as most women do, 1087 In gaining all that useful sort of knowledge 1088 Which is acquired in nature's good old college. 137 1089 The morn broke, and found Juan slumbering still 1090 Fast in his cave, and nothing clash'd upon 1091 His rest; the rushing of the neighbouring rill, 1092 And the young beams of the excluded sun, 1093 Troubled him not, and he might sleep his fill; 1094 And need he had of slumber yet, for none 1095 Had suffer'd more---his hardships were comparative 1096 To those related in my grand-dad's Narrative. 138 1097 Not so Haidée; she sadly toss'd and tumbled, 1098 And started from her sleep, and, turning o'er, 1099 Dream'd of a thousand wrecks, o'er which she stumbled, 1100 And handsome corpses strew'd upon the shore; 1101 And woke her maid so early that she grumbled, 1102 And call'd her father's old slaves up, who swore 1103 In several oaths---Armenian, Turk, and Greek,--- 1104 They knew not what to think of such a freak. 139 1105 But up she got, and up she made them get, 1106 With some pretence about the sun, that makes 1107 Sweet skies just when he rises, or is set; 1108 And 'tis, no doubt, a sight to see when breaks 1109 Bright Phoebus, while the mountains still are wet 1110 With mist, and every bird with him awakes, 1111 And night is flung off like a mourning suit 1112 Worn for a husband, or some other brute. 140 1113 I say, the sun is a most glorious sight, 1114 I've seen him rise full oft, indeed of late 1115 I have sat up on purpose all the night, 1116 Which hastens, as physicians say, one's fate; 1117 And so all ye, who would be in the right 1118 In health and purse, begin your day to date 1119 From day-break, and when coffin'd at fourscore, 1120 Engrave upon the plate, you rose at four. 141 1121 And Haidée met the morning face to face; 1122 Her own was freshest, though a feverish flush 1123 Had dyed it with the headlong blood, whose race 1124 From heart to cheek is curb'd into a blush, 1125 Like to a torrent which a mountain's base, 1126 That overpowers some alpine river's rush, 1127 Checks to a lake, whose waves in circles spread; 1128 Or the Red Sea---but the sea is not red. 142 1129 And down the cliff the island virgin came, 1130 And near the cave her quick light footsteps drew, 1131 While the sun smiled on her with his first flame, 1132 And young Aurora kiss'd her lips with dew, 1133 Taking her for a sister; just the same 1134 Mistake you would have made on seeing the two, 1135 Although the mortal, quite as fresh and fair, 1136 Had all the advantage too of not being air. 143 1137 And when into the cavern Haidée stepp'd 1138 All timidly, yet rapidly, she saw 1139 That like an infant Juan sweetly slept; 1140 And then she stopp'd, and stood as if in awe, 1141 (For sleep is awful) and on tiptoe crept 1142 And wrapt him closer, lest the air, too raw, 1143 Should reach his blood, then o'er him still as death 1144 Bent, with hush'd lips, that drank his scarce-drawn breath. 144 1145 And thus like to an angel o'er the dying 1146 Who die in righteousness, she lean'd; and there 1147 All tranquilly the shipwreck'd boy was lying, 1148 As o'er him lay the calm and stirless air: 1149 But Zoe the meantime some eggs was frying, 1150 Since, after all, no doubt the youthful pair 1151 Must breakfast, and betimes---lest they should ask it, 1152 She drew out her provision from the basket. 145 1153 She knew that the best feelings must have victual, 1154 And that a shipwreck'd youth would hungry be; 1155 Besides, being less in love, she yawn'd a little, 1156 And felt her veins chill'd by the neighbouring sea; 1157 And so, she cook'd their breakfast to a tittle; 1158 I can't say that she gave them any tea, 1159 But there were eggs, fruit, coffee, bread, fish, honey, 1160 With Scio wine,---and all for love, not money. 146 1161 And Zoe, when the eggs were ready, and 1162 The coffee made, would fain have waken'd Juan; 1163 But Haidée stopp'd her with her quick small hand, 1164 And without word, a sign her finger drew on 1165 Her lip, which Zoe needs must understand; 1166 And, the first breakfast spoilt, prepared a new one, 1167 Because her mistress would not let her break 1168 That sleep which seem'd as it would ne'er awake. 147 1169 For still he lay, and on his thin worn cheek 1170 A purple hectic play'd like dying day 1171 On the snow-tops of distant hills; the streak 1172 Of sufferance yet upon his forehead lay, 1173 Where the blue veins look'd shadowy, shrunk, and weak; 1174 And his black curls were dewy with the spray, 1175 Which weigh'd upon them yet, all damp and salt, 1176 Mix'd with the stony vapours of the vault. 148 1177 And she bent o'er him, and he lay beneath, 1178 Hush'd as the babe upon its mother's breast, 1179 Droop'd as the willow when no winds can breathe, 1180 Lull'd like the depth of ocean when at rest, 1181 Fair as the crowning rose of the whole wreath, 1182 Soft as the callow cygnet in its nest; 1183 In short, he was a very pretty fellow, 1184 Although his woes had turn'd him rather yellow. 149 1185 He woke and gazed, and would have slept again, 1186 But the fair face which met his eyes forbade 1187 Those eyes to close, though weariness and pain 1188 Had further sleep a further pleasure made; 1189 For woman's face was never form'd in vain 1190 For Juan, so that even when he pray'd 1191 He turn'd from grisly saints, and martyrs hairy, 1192 To the sweet portraits of the Virgin Mary. 150 1193 And thus upon his elbow he arose, 1194 And look'd upon the lady, in whose cheek 1195 The pale contended with the purple rose, 1196 As with an effort she began to speak; 1197 Her eyes were eloquent, her words would pose, 1198 Although she told him, in good modern Greek, 1199 With an Ionian accent, low and sweet, 1200 That he was faint, and must not talk, but eat. 151 1201 Now Juan could not understand a word, 1202 Being no Grecian; but he had an ear, 1203 And her voice was the warble of a bird, 1204 So soft, so sweet, so delicately clear, 1205 That finer, simpler music ne'er was heard; 1206 The sort of sound we echo with a tear, 1207 Without knowing why---an overpowering tone, 1208 Whence Melody descends as from a throne. 152 1209 And Juan gazed as one who is awoke 1210 By a distant organ, doubting if he be 1211 Not yet a dreamer, till the spell is broke 1212 By the watchman, or some such reality, 1213 Or by one's early valet's cursed knock; 1214 At least it is a heavy sound to me, 1215 Who like a morning slumber---for the night 1216 Shows stars and women in a better light. 153 1217 And Juan, too, was help'd out from his dream, 1218 Or sleep, or whatsoe'er it was, by feeling 1219 A most prodigious appetite: the steam 1220 Of Zoe's cookery no doubt was stealing 1221 Upon his senses, and the kindling beam 1222 Of the new fire, which Zoe kept up, kneeling, 1223 To stir her viands, made him quite awake 1224 And long for food, but chiefly a beef-steak. 154 1225 But beef is rare within these oxless isles; 1226 Goat's flesh there is, no doubt, and kid, and mutton; 1227 And, when a holiday upon them smiles, 1228 A joint upon their barbarous spits they put on: 1229 But this occurs but seldom, between whiles, 1230 For some of these are rocks with scarce a hut on, 1231 Others are fair and fertile, among which 1232 This, though not large, was one of the most rich. 155 1233 I say that beef is rare, and can't help thinking 1234 That the old fable of the Minotaur--- 1235 From which our modern morals, rightly shrinking, 1236 Condemn the royal lady's taste who wore 1237 A cow's shape for a mask---was only (sinking 1238 The allegory) a mere type, no more, 1239 That Pasiphae promoted breeding cattle, 1240 To make the Cretans bloodier in battle. 156 1241 For we all know that English people are 1242 Fed upon beef---I won't say much of beer, 1243 Because 'tis liquor only, and being far 1244 From this my subject, has no business here; 1245 We know, too, they are very fond of war, 1246 A pleasure---like all pleasures---rather dear; 1247 So were the Cretans---from which I infer 1248 That beef and battles both were owing to her. 157 1249 But to resume. The languid Juan raised 1250 His head upon his elbow, and he saw 1251 A sight on which he had not lately gazed, 1252 As all his latter meals had been quite raw, 1253 Three or four things, for which the Lord he praised, 1254 And, feeling still the famish'd vulture gnaw, 1255 He fell upon whate'er was offer'd, like 1256 A priest, a shark, an alderman, or pike. 158 1257 He ate, and he was well supplied; and she, 1258 Who watch'd him like a mother, would have fed 1259 Him past all bounds, because she smiled to see 1260 Such appetite in one she had deem'd dead: 1261 But Zoe, being older than Haidée, 1262 Knew (by tradition, for she ne'er had read) 1263 That famish'd people must be slowly nurst, 1264 And fed by spoonfuls, else they always burst. 159 1265 And so she took the liberty to state, 1266 Rather by deeds than words, because the case 1267 Was urgent, that the gentleman, whose fate 1268 Had made her mistress quit her bed to trace 1269 The sea-shore at this hour, must leave his plate, 1270 Unless he wish'd to die upon the place--- 1271 She snatch'd it, and refused another morsel, 1272 Saying, he had gorged enough to make a horse ill. 160 1273 Next they---he being naked, save a tatter'd 1274 Pair of scarce decent trowsers---went to work, 1275 And in the fire his recent rags they scatter'd, 1276 And dress'd him, for the present, like a Turk, 1277 Or Greek---that is, although it not much matter'd, 1278 Omitting turban, slippers, pistols, dirk,--- 1279 They furnish'd him, entire except some stitches, 1280 With a clean shirt, and very spacious breeches. 161 1281 And then fair Haidée tried her tongue at speaking, 1282 But not a word could Juan comprehend, 1283 Although he listen'd so that the young Greek in 1284 Her earnestness would ne'er have made an end; 1285 And, as he interrupted not, went eking 1286 Her speech out to her protegé and friend, 1287 Till pausing at the last her breath to take, 1288 She saw he did not understand Romaic. 162 1289 And then she had recourse to nods, and signs, 1290 And smiles, and sparkles of the speaking eye, 1291 And read (the only book she could) the lines 1292 Of his fair face, and found, by sympathy, 1293 The answer eloquent, where the soul shines 1294 And darts in one quick glance a long reply; 1295 And thus in every look she saw exprest 1296 A world of words, and things at which she guess'd. 163 1297 And now, by dint of fingers and of eyes, 1298 And words repeated after her, he took 1299 A lesson in her tongue; but by surmise, 1300 No doubt, less of her language than her look: 1301 As he who studies fervently the skies 1302 Turns oftener to the stars than to his book, 1303 Thus Juan learn'd his alpha beta better 1304 From Haidée's glance than any graven letter. 164 1305 'Tis pleasing to be school'd in a strange tongue 1306 By female lips and eyes---that is, I mean, 1307 When both the teacher and the taught are young, 1308 As was the case, at least, where I have been; 1309 They smile so when one's right, and when one's wrong 1310 They smile still more, and then there intervene 1311 Pressure of hands, perhaps even a chaste kiss;--- 1312 I learn'd the little that I know by this: 165 1313 That is, some words of Spanish, Turk, and Greek, 1314 Italian not at all, having no teachers; 1315 Much English I cannot pretend to speak, 1316 Learning that language chiefly from its preachers, 1317 Barrow, South, Tillotson, whom every week 1318 I study, also Blair, the highest reachers 1319 Of eloquence in piety and prose--- 1320 I hate your poets, so read none of those. 166 1321 As for the ladies, I have nought to say, 1322 A wanderer from the British world of fashion, 1323 Where I, like other "dogs, have had my day," 1324 Like other men too, may have had my passion--- 1325 But that, like other things, has pass'd away, 1326 And all her fools whom I could lay the lash on: 1327 Foes, friends, men, women, now are nought to me 1328 But dreams of what has been, no more to be. 167 1329 Return we to Don Juan. He begun 1330 To hear new words, and to repeat them; but 1331 Some feelings, universal as the sun, 1332 Were such as could not in his breast be shut 1333 More than within the bosom of a nun: 1334 He was in love,---as you would be, no doubt, 1335 With a young benefactress---so was she, 1336 Just in the way we very often see. 168 1337 And every day by day-break---rather early 1338 For Juan, who was somewhat fond of rest--- 1339 She came into the cave, but it was merely 1340 To see her bird reposing in his nest; 1341 And she would softly stir his locks so curly, 1342 Without disturbing her yet slumbering guest, 1343 Breathing all gently o'er his cheek and mouth, 1344 As o'er a bed of roses the sweet south. 169 1345 And every morn his colour freshlier came, 1346 And every day help'd on his convalescence; 1347 'Twas well, because health in the human frame 1348 Is pleasant, besides being true love's essence, 1349 For health and idleness to passion's flame 1350 Are oil and gunpowder; and some good lessons 1351 Are also learnt from Ceres and from Bacchus, 1352 Without whom Venus will not long attack us. 170 1353 While Venus fills the heart (without heart really 1354 Love, though good always, is not quite so good) 1355 Ceres presents a plate of vermicelli,--- 1356 For love must be sustain'd like flesh and blood,--- 1357 While Bacchus pours out wine, or hands a jelly: 1358 Eggs, oysters too, are amatory food; 1359 But who is their purveyor from above 1360 Heaven knows,---it may be Neptune, Pan, or Jove. 171 1361 When Juan woke he found some good things ready, 1362 A bath, a breakfast, and the finest eyes 1363 That ever made a youthful heart less steady, 1364 Besides her maid's, as pretty for their size; 1365 But I have spoken of all this already--- 1366 And repetition's tiresome and unwise,--- 1367 Well---Juan, after bathing in the sea, 1368 Came always back to coffee and Haidée. 172 1369 Both were so young, and one so innocent, 1370 That bathing pass'd for nothing; Juan seem'd 1371 To her, as 'twere, the kind of being sent, 1372 Of whom these two years she had nightly dream'd, 1373 A something to be loved, a creature meant 1374 To be her happiness, and whom she deem'd 1375 To render happy; all who joy would win 1376 Must share it,---Happiness was born a twin. 173 1377 It was such pleasure to behold him, such 1378 Enlargement of existence to partake 1379 Nature with him, to thrill beneath his touch, 1380 To watch him slumbering, and to see him wake: 1381 To live with him for ever were too much; 1382 But then the thought of parting made her quake: 1383 He was her own, her ocean-treasure, cast 1384 Like a rich wreck---her first love, and her last. 174 1385 And thus a moon roll'd on, and fair Haidée 1386 Paid daily visits to her boy, and took 1387 Such plentiful precautions, that still he 1388 Remain'd unknown within his craggy nook; 1389 At last her father's prows put out to sea, 1390 For certain merchantmen upon the look, 1391 Not as of yore to carry off an Io, 1392 But three Ragusan vessels, bound for Scio. 175 1393 Then came her freedom, for she had no mother, 1394 So that, her father being at sea, she was 1395 Free as a married woman, or such other 1396 Female, as where she likes may freely pass, 1397 Without even the incumbrance of a brother, 1398 The freest she that ever gazed on glass: 1399 I speak of christian lands in this comparison, 1400 Where wives, at least, are seldom kept in garrison. 176 1401 Now she prolong'd her visits and her talk 1402 (For they must talk), and he had learnt to say 1403 So much as to propose to take a walk,--- 1404 For little had he wander'd since the day 1405 On which, like a young flower snapp'd from the stalk, 1406 Drooping and dewy on the beach he lay,--- 1407 And thus they walk'd out in the afternoon, 1408 And saw the sun set opposite the moon. 177 1409 It was a wild and breaker-beaten coast, 1410 With cliffs above, and a broad sandy shore, 1411 Guarded by shoals and rocks as by an host, 1412 With here and there a creek, whose aspect wore 1413 A better welcome to the tempest-tost; 1414 And rarely ceased the haughty billow's roar, 1415 Save on the dead long summer days, which make 1416 The outstretch'd ocean glitter like a lake. 178 1417 And the small ripple spilt upon the beach 1418 Scarcely o'erpass'd the cream of your champaigne, 1419 When o'er the brim the sparkling bumpers reach, 1420 That spring-dew of the spirit! the heart's rain! 1421 Few things surpass old wine; and they may preach 1422 Who please,---the more because they preach in vain,--- 1423 Let us have wine and woman, mirth and laughter, 1424 Sermons and soda water the day after. 179 1425 Man, being reasonable, must get drunk; 1426 The best of life is but intoxication: 1427 Glory, the grape, love, gold, in these are sunk 1428 The hopes of all men, and of every nation; 1429 Without their sap, how branchless were the trunk 1430 Of life's strange tree, so fruitful on occasion: 1431 But to return,---Get very drunk; and when 1432 You wake with head-ache, you shall see what then. 180 1433 Ring for your valet---bid him quickly bring 1434 Some hock and soda-water, then you'll know 1435 A pleasure worthy Xerxes the great king; 1436 For not the blest sherbet, sublimed with snow, 1437 Nor the first sparkle of the desert-spring, 1438 Nor Burgundy in all its sunset glow, 1439 After long travel, ennui, love, or slaughter, 1440 Vie with that draught of hock and soda-water. 181 1441 The coast---I think it was the coast that I 1442 Was just describing---Yes, it was the coast--- 1443 Lay at this period quiet as the sky, 1444 The sands untumbled, the blue waves untost, 1445 And all was stillness, save the sea-bird's cry, 1446 And dolphin's leap, and little billow crost 1447 By some low rock or shelve, that made it fret 1448 Against the boundary it scarcely wet. 182 1449 And forth they wander'd, her sire being gone, 1450 As I have said, upon an expedition; 1451 And mother, brother, guardian, she had none, 1452 Save Zoe, who although with due precision 1453 She waited on her lady with the sun, 1454 Thought daily service was her only mission, 1455 Bringing warm water, wreathing her long tresses, 1456 And asking now and then for cast-off dresses. 183 1457 It was the cooling hour, just when the rounded 1458 Red sun sinks down behind the azure hill, 1459 Which then seems as if the whole earth it bounded, 1460 Circling all nature, hush'd, and dim, and still, 1461 With the far mountain-crescent half surrounded 1462 On one side, and the deep sea calm and chill 1463 Upon the other, and the rosy sky, 1464 With one star sparkling through it like an eye. 184 1465 And thus they wander'd forth, and hand in hand, 1466 Over the shining pebbles and the shells, 1467 Glided along the smooth and harden'd sand, 1468 And in the worn and wild receptacles 1469 Work'd by the storms, yet work'd as it were plann'd, 1470 In hollow halls, with sparry roofs and cells, 1471 They turn'd to rest; and, each clasp'd by an arm, 1472 Yielded to the deep twilight's purple charm. 185 1473 They look'd up to the sky, whose floating glow 1474 Spread like a rosy ocean, vast and bright; 1475 They gazed upon the glittering sea below, 1476 Whence the broad moon rose circling into sight; 1477 They heard the wave's splash, and the wind so low, 1478 And saw each other's dark eyes darting light 1479 Into each other---and, beholding this, 1480 Their lips drew near, and clung into a kiss; 186 1481 A long, long kiss, a kiss of youth, and love, 1482 And beauty, all concentrating like rays 1483 Into one focus, kindled from above; 1484 Such kisses as belong to early days, 1485 Where heart, and soul, and sense, in concert move, 1486 And the blood's lava, and the pulse a blaze, 1487 Each kiss a heart-quake,---for a kiss's strength, 1488 I think, it must be reckon'd by its length. 187 1489 By length I mean duration; theirs endured 1490 Heaven knows how long---no doubt they never reckon'd; 1491 And if they had, they could not have secured 1492 The sum of their sensations to a second: 1493 They had not spoken; but they felt allured, 1494 As if their souls and lips each other beckon'd, 1495 Which, being join'd, like swarming bees they clung--- 1496 Their hearts the flowers from whence the honey sprung. 188 1497 They were alone, but not alone as they 1498 Who shut in chambers think it loneliness; 1499 The silent ocean, and the starlight bay, 1500 The twilight glow, which momently grew less, 1501 The voiceless sands, and dropping caves, that lay 1502 Around them, made them to each other press, 1503 As if there were no life beneath the sky 1504 Save theirs, and that their life could never die. 189 1505 They fear'd no eyes nor ears on that lone beach, 1506 They felt no terrors from the night, they were 1507 All in all to each other: though their speech 1508 Was broken words, they thought a language there,--- 1509 And all the burning tongues the passions teach 1510 Found in one sigh the best interpreter 1511 Of nature's oracle---first love,---that all 1512 Which Eve has left her daughters since her fall. 190 1513 Haidée spoke not of scruples, ask'd no vows, 1514 Nor offer'd any; she had never heard 1515 Of plight and promises to be a spouse, 1516 Or perils by a loving maid incurr'd; 1517 She was all which pure ignorance allows, 1518 And flew to her young mate like a young bird; 1519 And, never having dreamt of falsehood, she 1520 Had not one word to say of constancy. 191 1521 She loved, and was beloved---she adored, 1522 And she was worshipp'd; after nature's fashion, 1523 Their intense souls, into each other pour'd, 1524 If souls could die, had perish'd in that passion,--- 1525 But by degrees their senses were restored, 1526 Again to be o'ercome, again to dash on; 1527 And, beating 'gainst his bosom, Haidée's heart 1528 Felt as if never more to beat apart. 192 1529 Alas! they were so young, so beautiful, 1530 So lonely, loving, helpless, and the hour 1531 Was that in which the heart is always full, 1532 And, having o'er itself no further power, 1533 Prompts deeds eternity can not annul, 1534 But pays off moments in an endless shower 1535 Of hell-fire---all prepared for people giving 1536 Pleasure or pain to one another living. 193 1537 Alas! for Juan and Haidée! they were 1538 So loving and so lovely---till then never, 1539 Excepting our first parents, such a pair 1540 Had run the risk of being damn'd for ever; 1541 And Haidée, being devout as well as fair, 1542 Had, doubtless, heard about the Stygian river, 1543 And hell and purgatory---but forgot 1544 Just in the very crisis she should not. 194 1545 They look upon each other, and their eyes 1546 Gleam in the moonlight; and her white arm clasps 1547 Round Juan's head, and his around hers lies 1548 Half buried in the tresses which it grasps; 1549 She sits upon his knee, and drinks his sighs, 1550 He hers, until they end in broken gasps; 1551 And thus they form a group that's quite antique, 1552 Half naked, loving, natural, and Greek. 195 1553 And when those deep and burning moments pass'd, 1554 And Juan sunk to sleep within her arms, 1555 She slept not, but all tenderly, though fast, 1556 Sustain'd his head upon her bosom's charms; 1557 And now and then her eye to heaven is cast, 1558 And then on the pale cheek her breast now warms, 1559 Pillow'd on her o'erflowing heart, which pants 1560 With all it granted, and with all it grants. 196 1561 An infant when it gazes on a light, 1562 A child the moment when it drains the breast, 1563 A devotee when soars the Host in sight, 1564 An Arab with a stranger for a guest, 1565 A sailor when the prize has struck in fight, 1566 A miser filling his most hoarded chest, 1567 Feel rapture; but not such true joy are reaping 1568 As they who watch o'er what they love while sleeping. 197 1569 For there it lies so tranquil, so beloved, 1570 All that it hath of life with us is living; 1571 So gentle, stirless, helpless, and unmoved, 1572 And all unconscious of the joy 'tis giving; 1573 All it hath felt, inflicted, pass'd, and proved, 1574 Hush'd into depths beyond the watcher's diving; 1575 There lies the thing we love with all its errors 1576 And all its charms, like death without its terrors. 198 1577 The lady watch'd her lover---and that hour 1578 Of Love's, and Night's, and Ocean's solitude, 1579 O'erflow'd her soul with their united power; 1580 Amidst the barren sand and rocks so rude 1581 She and her wave-worn love had made their bower, 1582 Where nought upon their passion could intrude, 1583 And all the stars that crowded the blue space 1584 Saw nothing happier than her glowing face. 199 1585 Alas! the love of women! it is known 1586 To be a lovely and a fearful thing; 1587 For all of theirs upon that die is thrown, 1588 And if 'tis lost, life hath no more to bring 1589 To them but mockeries of the past alone, 1590 And their revenge is as the tiger's spring, 1591 Deadly, and quick, and crushing; yet, as real 1592 Torture is theirs, what they inflict they feel. 200 1593 They are right; for man, to man so oft unjust, 1594 Is always so to women; one sole bond 1595 Awaits them, treachery is all their trust; 1596 Taught to conceal, their bursting hearts despond 1597 Over their idol, till some wealthier lust 1598 Buys them in marriage---and what rests beyond? 1599 A thankless husband, next a faithless lover, 1600 Then dressing, nursing, praying, and all's over. 201 1601 Some take a lover, some take drams or prayers, 1602 Some mind their household, others dissipation, 1603 Some run away, and but exchange their cares, 1604 Losing the advantage of a virtuous station; 1605 Few changes e'er can better their affairs, 1606 Theirs being an unnatural situation, 1607 From the dull palace to the dirty hovel: 1608 Some play the devil, and then write a novel. 202 1609 Haidée was Nature's bride, and knew not this; 1610 Haidée was Passion's child, born where the sun 1611 Showers triple light, and scorches even the kiss 1612 Of his gazelle-eyed daughters; she was one 1613 Made but to love, to feel that she was his 1614 Who was her chosen: what was said or done 1615 Elsewhere was nothing---She had nought to fear, 1616 Hope, care, nor love beyond, her heart beat here . 203 1617 And oh! that quickening of the heart, that beat! 1618 How much it costs us! yet each rising throb 1619 Is in its cause as its effect so sweet, 1620 That Wisdom, ever on the watch to rob 1621 Joy of its alchymy, and to repeat 1622 Fine truths; even Conscience, too, has a tough job 1623 To make us understand each good old maxim, 1624 So good---I wonder Castlereagh don't tax 'em. 204 1625 And now 'twas done---on the lone shore were plighted 1626 Their hearts; the stars, their nuptial torches, shed 1627 Beauty upon the beautiful they lighted: 1628 Ocean their witness, and the cave their bed, 1629 By their own feelings hallow'd and united, 1630 Their priest was Solitude, and they were wed: 1631 And they were happy, for to their young eyes 1632 Each was an angel, and earth paradise. 205 1633 Oh Love! of whom great Caesar was the suitor, 1634 Titus the master, Antony the slave, 1635 Horace, Catullus, scholars, Ovid tutor, 1636 Sappho the sage blue-stocking, in whose grave 1637 All those may leap who rather would be neuter--- 1638 (Leucadia's rock still overlooks the wave) 1639 Oh Love! thou art the very god of evil, 1640 For, after all, we cannot call thee devil. 206 1641 Thou mak'st the chaste connubial state precarious, 1642 And jestest with the brows of mightiest men: 1643 Caesar and Pompey, Mahomet, Belisarius, 1644 Have much employ'd the muse of history's pen; 1645 Their lives and fortunes were extremely various, 1646 Such worthies Time will never see again; 1647 Yet to these four in three things the same luck holds, 1648 They all were heroes, conquerors, and cuckolds. 207 1649 Thou mak'st philosophers; there's Epicurus 1650 And Aristippus, a material crew! 1651 Who to immoral courses would allure us 1652 By theories quite practicable too; 1653 If only from the devil they would insure us, 1654 How pleasant were the maxim, (not quite new) 1655 "Eat, drink, and love, what can the rest avail us?" 1656 So said the royal sage Sardanapalus. 208 1657 But Juan! had he quite forgotten Julia? 1658 And should he have forgotten her so soon? 1659 I can't but say it seems to me most truly a 1660 Perplexing question; but, no doubt, the moon 1661 Does these things for us, and whenever newly a 1662 Strong palpitation rises, 'tis her boon, 1663 Else how the devil is it that fresh features 1664 Have such a charm for us poor human creatures? 209 1665 I hate inconstancy---I loathe, detest, 1666 Abhor, condemn, abjure the mortal made 1667 Of such quicksilver clay that in his breast 1668 No permanent foundation can be laid; 1669 Love, constant love, has been my constant guest, 1670 And yet last night, being at a masquerade, 1671 I saw the prettiest creature, fresh from Milan, 1672 Which gave me some sensations like a villain. 210 1673 But soon Philosophy came to my aid, 1674 And whisper'd "think of every sacred tie!" 1675 "I will, my dear Philosophy!" I said, 1676 "But then her teeth, and then, Oh heaven! her eye! 1677 I'll just inquire if she be wife or maid, 1678 Or neither---out of curiosity." 1679 "Stop!" cried Philosophy, with air so Grecian, 1680 (Though she was masqued then as a fair Venetian). 211 1681 "Stop!" so I stopp'd.---But to return: that which 1682 Men call inconstancy is nothing more 1683 Than admiration due where nature's rich 1684 Profusion with young beauty covers o'er 1685 Some favour'd object; and as in the niche 1686 A lovely statue we almost adore, 1687 This sort of adoration of the real 1688 Is but a heightening of the "beau ideal." 212 1689 'Tis the perception of the beautiful, 1690 A fine extension of the faculties, 1691 Platonic, universal, wonderful, 1692 Drawn from the stars, and filter'd through the skies, 1693 Without which life would be extremely dull; 1694 In short, it is the use of our own eyes, 1695 With one or two small senses added, just 1696 To hint that flesh is form'd of fiery dust. 213 1697 Yet 'tis a painful feeling, and unwilling, 1698 For surely if we always could perceive 1699 In the same object graces quite as killing 1700 As when she rose upon us like an Eve, 1701 'Twould save us many a heart-ache, many a shilling, 1702 (For we must get them any how, or grieve), 1703 Whereas if one sole lady pleased for ever, 1704 How pleasant for the heart, as well as liver! 214 1705 The heart is like the sky, a part of heaven, 1706 But changes night and day too, like the sky; 1707 Now o'er it clouds and thunder must be driven, 1708 And darkness and destruction as on high; 1709 But when it hath been scorch'd, and pierced, and riven, 1710 Its storms expire in water-drops; the eye 1711 Pours forth at last the heart's-blood turn'd to tears, 1712 Which make the English climate of our years. 215 1713 The liver is the lazaret of bile, 1714 But very rarely executes its function, 1715 For the first passion stays there such a while, 1716 That all the rest creep in and form a junction, 1717 Like knots of vipers on a dunghill's soil, 1718 Rage, fear, hate, jealousy, revenge, compunction, 1719 So that all mischiefs spring up from this entrail, 1720 Like earthquakes from the hidden fire call'd "central." 216 1721 In the mean time, without proceeding more 1722 In this anatomy, I've finish'd now 1723 Two hundred and odd stanzas as before, 1724 That being about the number I'll allow 1725 Each canto of the twelve, or twenty-four; 1726 And, laying down my pen, I make my bow, 1727 Leaving Don Juan and Haidée to plead 1728 For them and theirs with all who deign to read. |