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1 1 Nothing so difficult as a beginning 2 In poesy, unless perhaps the end; 3 For oftentimes when Pegasus seems winning 4 The race, he sprains a wing, and down we tend, 5 Like Lucifer when hurl'd from heaven for sinning; 6 Our sin the same, and hard as his to mend, 7 Being pride, which leads the mind to soar too far, 8 Till our own weakness shows us what we are. 2 9 But Time, which brings all beings to their level, 10 And sharp Adversity, will teach at last 11 Man,---and, as we would hope,---perhaps the devil, 12 That neither of their intellects are vast: 13 While youth's hot wishes in our red veins revel, 14 We know not this---the blood flows on too fast; 15 But as the torrent widens towards the ocean, 16 We ponder deeply on each past emotion. 3 17 As boy, I thought myself a clever fellow, 18 And wish'd that others held the same opinion; 19 They took it up when my days grew more mellow, 20 And other minds acknowledged my dominion: 21 Now my sere fancy "falls into the yellow 22 Leaf," and imagination droops her pinion, 23 And the sad truth which hovers o'er my desk 24 Turns what was once romantic to burlesque. 4 25 And if I laugh at any mortal thing, 26 'Tis that I may not weep; and if I weep, 27 'Tis that our nature cannot always bring 28 Itself to apathy, for we must steep 29 Our hearts first in the depths of Lethe's spring, 30 Ere what we least wish to behold will sleep: 31 Thetis baptized her mortal son in Styx; 32 A mortal mother would on Lethe fix. 5 33 Some have accused me of a strange design 34 Against the creed and morals of the land, 35 And trace it in this poem every line: 36 I don't pretend that I quite understand 37 My own meaning when I would be very fine; 38 But the fact is that I have nothing plann'd, 39 Unless it were to be a moment merry, 40 A novel word in my vocabulary. 6 41 To the kind reader of our sober clime 42 This way of writing will appear exotic; 43 Pulci was sire of the half-serious rhyme, 44 Who sang when chivalry was more Quixotic, 45 And revell'd in the fancies of the time, 46 True knights, chaste dames, huge giants, kings despotic; 47 But all these, save the last, being obsolete, 48 I chose a modern subject as more meet. 7 49 How I have treated it, I do not know; 50 Perhaps no better than they have treated me 51 Who have imputed such designs as show 52 Not what they saw, but what they wish'd to see; 53 But if it gives them pleasure, be it so, 54 This is a liberal age, and thoughts are free: 55 Meantime Apollo plucks me by the ear, 56 And tells me to resume my story here. 8 57 Young Juan and his lady-love were left 58 To their own hearts' most sweet society; 59 Even Time the pitiless in sorrow cleft 60 With his rude scythe such gentle bosoms; he 61 Sigh'd to behold them of their hours bereft 62 Though foe to love; and yet they could not be 63 Meant to grow old, but die in happy spring, 64 Before one charm or hope had taken wing. 9 65 Their faces were not made for wrinkles, their 66 Pure blood to stagnate, their great hearts to fail; 67 The blank grey was not made to blast their hair, 68 But like the climes that know nor snow nor hail 69 They were all summer: lightning might assail 70 And shiver them to ashes, but to trail 71 A long and snake-like life of dull decay 72 Was not for them---they had too little clay. 10 73 They were alone once more; for them to be 74 Thus was another Eden; they were never 75 Weary, unless when separate: the tree 76 Cut from its forest root of years---the river 77 Damm'd from its fountain---the child from the knee 78 And breast maternal wean'd at once for ever, 79 Would wither less than these two torn apart; 80 Alas! there is no instinct like the heart--- 11 81 The heart---which may be broken: happy they! 82 Thrice fortunate! who of that fragile mould, 83 The precious porcelain of human clay, 84 Break with the first fall: they can ne'er behold 85 The long year link'd with heavy day on day, 86 And all which must be borne, and never told; 87 While life's strange principle will often lie 88 Deepest in those who long the most to die. 12 89 "Whom the gods love die young" was said of yore, 90 And many deaths do they escape by this: 91 The death of friends, and that which slays even more--- 92 The death of friendship, love, youth, all that is, 93 Except mere breath; and since the silent shore 94 Awaits at last even those whom longest miss 95 The old archer's shafts, perhaps the early grave 96 Which men weep over may be meant to save. 13 97 Haidée and Juan thought not of the dead. 98 The heavens and earth, and air, seem'd made for them: 99 They found no fault with Time, save that he fled; 100 They saw not in themselves aught to condemn: 101 Each was the other's mirror, and but read 102 Joy sparkling in their dark eyes like a gem, 103 And knew such brightness was but the reflection 104 Of their exchanging glances of affection. 14 105 The gentle pressure, and the thrilling touch, 106 The least glance better understood than words, 107 Which still said all, and ne'er could say too much; 108 A language, too, but like to that of birds, 109 Known but to them, at least appearing such 110 As but to lovers a true sense affords; 111 Sweet playful phrases, which would seem absurd 112 To those who have ceased to hear such, or ne'er heard: 15 113 All these were theirs, for they were children still, 114 And children still they should have ever been; 115 They were not made in the real world to fill 116 A busy character in the dull scene, 117 But like two beings born from out a rill, 118 A nymph and her beloved, all unseen 119 To pass their lives in fountains and on flowers, 120 And never know the weight of human hours. 16 121 Moons changing had roll'd on, and changeless found 122 Those their bright rise had lighted to such joys 123 As rarely they beheld throughout their round; 124 And these were not of the vain kind which cloys, 125 For theirs were buoyant spirits, never bound 126 By the mere senses; and that which destroys 127 Most love, possession, unto them appear'd 128 A thing which each endearment more endear'd. 17 129 Oh beautiful! and rare as beautiful! 130 But theirs was love in which the mind delights 131 To lose itself, when the old world grows dull, 132 And we are sick of its hack sounds and sights, 133 Intrigues, adventures of the common school, 134 Its petty passions, marriages, and flights, 135 Where Hymen's torch but brands one strumpet more, 136 Whose husband only knows her not a wh---re. 18 137 Hard words; harsh truth; a truth which many know. 138 Enough.---The faithful and the fairy pair, 139 Who never found a single hour too slow, 140 What was it made them thus exempt from care? 141 Young innate feelings all have felt below 142 Which perish in the rest, but in them were 143 Inherent; what we mortals call romantic, 144 And always envy, though we deem it frantic. 19 145 This is in others a factitious state, 146 An opium dream of too much youth and reading, 147 But was in them their nature, or their fate: 148 No novels e'er had set their young hearts bleeding, 149 For Haidée's knowledge was by no means great, 150 And Juan was a boy of saintly breeding; 151 So that there was no reason for their loves 152 More than for those of nightingales or doves. 20 153 They gazed upon the sunset; 'tis an hour 154 Dear unto all, but dearest to their eyes, 155 For it had made them what they were: the power 156 Of love had first o'erwhelm'd them from such skies, 157 When happiness had been their only dower, 158 And twilight saw them link'd in passion's ties; 159 Charm'd with each other, all things charm'd that brought 160 The past still welcome as the present thought. 21 161 I know not why, but in that hour to-night, 162 Even as they gazed, a sudden tremor came, 163 And swept, as 'twere, across their heart's delight, 164 Like the wind o'er a harp-string, or a flame, 165 When one is shook in sound, and one in sight; 166 And thus some boding flash'd through either frame, 167 And called from Juan's breast a faint low sigh, 168 While one new tear arose in Haidée's eye. 22 169 That large black prophet eye seem'd to dilate 170 And follow far the disappearing sun, 171 As if their last day of a happy date 172 With his broad, bright, and dropping orb were gone; 173 Juan gazed on her as to ask his fate--- 174 He felt a grief, but knowing cause for none, 175 His glance inquired of hers for some excuse 176 For feelings causeless, or at least abstruse. 23 177 She turn'd to him, and smiled, but in that sort 178 Which makes not others smile; then turn'd aside: 179 Whatever feeling shook her, it seem'd short, 180 And master'd by her wisdom or her pride; 181 When Juan spoke, too---it might be in sport--- 182 Of this their mutual feeling, she replied--- 183 "If it should be so,---but---it cannot be--- 184 Or I at least shall not survive to see." 24 185 Juan would question further, but she press'd 186 His lip to hers, and silenced him with this, 187 And then dismiss'd the omen from her breast, 188 Defying augury with that fond kiss; 189 And no doubt of all methods 'tis the best: 190 Some people prefer wine---'tis not amiss; 191 I have tried both; so those who would a part take 192 May choose between the headache and the heartache. 25 193 One of the two, according to your choice, 194 Woman or wine, you'll have to undergo; 195 Both maladies are taxes on our joys: 196 But which to choose, I really hardly know; 197 And if I had to give a casting voice, 198 For both sides I could many reasons show, 199 And then decide, without great wrong to either, 200 It were much better to have both than neither. 26 201 Juan and Haidée gazed upon each other 202 With swimming looks of speechless tenderness, 203 Which mix'd all feelings, friend, child, lover, brother, 204 All that the best can mingle and express 205 When two pure hearts are pour'd in one another, 206 And love too much, and yet can not love less; 207 But almost sanctify the sweet excess 208 By the immortal wish and power to bless. 27 209 Mix'd in each other's arms, and heart in heart, 210 Why did they not then die?---they had lived too long 211 Should an hour come to bid them breathe apart; 212 Years could but bring them cruel things or wrong, 213 The world was not for them, nor the world's art 214 For beings passionate as Sappho's song; 215 Love was born with them, in them, so intense, 216 It was their very spirit---not a sense. 28 217 They should have lived together deep in woods, 218 Unseen as sings the nightingale; they were 219 Unfit to mix in these thick solitudes 220 Call'd social, haunts of Hate, and Vice, and Care: 221 How lonely every freeborn creature broods! 222 The sweetest song-birds nestle in a pair; 223 The eagle soars alone; the gull and crow 224 Flock o'er their carrion, just like men below. 29 225 Now pillow'd cheek to cheek, in loving sleep, 226 Haidée and Juan their siesta took, 227 A gentle slumber, but it was not deep, 228 For ever and anon a something shook 229 Juan, and shuddering o'er his frame would creep; 230 And Haidée's sweet lips murmur'd like a brook 231 A wordless music, and her face so fair 232 Stirr'd with her dream as rose-leaves with the air: 30 233 Or as the stirring of a deep clear stream 234 Within an Alpine hollow, when the wind 235 Walks o'er it, was she shaken by the dream, 236 The mystical usurper of the mind--- 237 O'erpowering us to be whate'er may seem 238 Good to the soul which we no more can bind; 239 Strange state of being! (for 'tis still to be) 240 Senseless to feel, and with seal'd eyes to see. 31 241 She dream'd of being alone on the sea-shore, 242 Chain'd to a rock; she knew not how, but stir 243 She could not from the spot, and the loud roar 244 Grew, and each wave rose roughly, threatening her; 245 And o'er her upper lip they seem'd to pour, 246 Until she sobb'd for breath, and soon they were 247 Foaming o'er her lone head, so fierce and high 248 Each broke to drown her, yet she could not die. 32 249 Anon---she was released, and then she stray'd 250 O'er the sharp shingles with her bleeding feet, 251 And stumbled almost every step she made; 252 And something roll'd before her in a sheet, 253 Which she must still pursue howe'er afraid; 254 'Twas white and indistinct, nor stopp'd to meet 255 Her glance nor grasp, for still she gazed and grasp'd, 256 And ran, but it escaped her as she clasp'd. 33 257 The dream changed; in a cave she stood, its walls 258 Were hung with marble icicles; the work 259 Of ages on its water-fretted halls, 260 Where waves might wash, and seals might breed and lurk; 261 Her hair was dripping, and the very balls 262 Of her black eyes seem'd turn'd to tears, and murk 263 The sharp rocks look'd below each drop they caught, 264 Which froze to marble as it fell, she thought. 34 265 And wet, and cold, and lifeless at her feet, 266 Pale as the foam that froth'd on his dead brow, 267 Which she essay'd in vain to clear, (how sweet 268 Were once her cares, how idle seem'd they now!) 269 Lay Juan, nor could aught renew the beat 270 Of his quench'd heart; and the sea dirges low 271 Rang in her sad ears like a mermaid's song, 272 And that brief dream appear'd a life too long. 35 273 And gazing on the dead, she thought his face 274 Faded, or alter'd into something new--- 275 Like to her father's features, till each trace 276 More like and like to Lambro's aspect grew--- 277 With all his keen worn look and Grecian grace; 278 And starting, she awoke, and what to view? 279 Oh! Powers of Heaven! what dark eye meets she there? 280 'Tis---'tis her father's---fix'd upon the pair! 36 281 Then shrieking, she arose, and shrieking fell, 282 With joy and sorrow, hope and fear, to see 283 Him whom she deem'd a habitant where dwell 284 The ocean-buried, risen from death, to be 285 Perchance the death of one she loved too well: 286 Dear as her father had been to Haidée, 287 It was a moment of that awful kind--- 288 I have seen such---but must not call to mind. 37 289 Up Juan sprung to Haidée's bitter shriek, 290 And caught her falling, and from off the wall 291 Snatch'd down his sabre, in hot haste to wreak 292 Vengeance on him who was the cause of all: 293 Then Lambro, who till now forbore to speak, 294 Smiled scornfully, and said, "Within my call, 295 A thousand scimitars await the word; 296 Put up, young man, put up your silly sword." 38 297 And Haidée clung around him; "Juan, 'tis--- 298 'Tis Lambro---'tis my father! Kneel with me--- 299 He will forgive us---yes---it must be---yes. 300 Oh! dearest father, in this agony 301 Of pleasure and of pain---even while I kiss 302 Thy garment's hem with transport, can it be 303 That doubt should mingle with my filial joy? 304 Deal with me as thou wilt, but spare this boy." 39 305 High and inscrutable the old man stood, 306 Calm in his voice, and calm within his eye--- 307 Not always signs with him of calmest mood: 308 He look'd upon her, but gave no reply; 309 Then turn'd to Juan, in whose cheek the blood 310 Oft came and went, as there resolved to die; 311 In arms, at least, he stood, in act to spring 312 On the first foe whom Lambro's call might bring. 40 313 "Young man, your sword"; so Lambro once more said: 314 Juan replied, "Not while this arm is free." 315 The old man's cheek grew pale, but not with dread, 316 And drawing from his belt a pistol, he 317 Replied, "Your blood be then on your own head." 318 Then look'd close at the flint, as if to see 319 'Twas fresh---for he had lately used the lock--- 320 And next proceeded quietly to cock. 41 321 It has a strange quick jar upon the ear, 322 That cocking of a pistol, when you know 323 A moment more will bring the sight to bear 324 Upon your person, twelve yards off, or so; 325 A gentlemanly distance, not too near, 326 If you have got a former friend for foe; 327 But after being fired at once or twice, 328 The ear becomes more Irish, and less nice. 42 329 Lambro presented, and one instant more 330 Had stopp'd this Canto, and Don Juan's breath, 331 When Haidée threw herself her boy before; 332 Stern as her sire: "On me," she cried, "let death 333 Descend---the fault is mine; this fatal shore 334 He found---but sought not. I have pledged my faith; 335 I love him---I will die with him: I knew 336 Your nature's firmness---know your daughter's too." 43 337 A minute past, and she had been all tears, 338 And tenderness, and infancy: but now 339 She stood as one who champion'd human fears--- 340 Pale, statue-like, and stern, she woo'd the blow; 341 And tall beyond her sex, and their compeers, 342 She drew up to her height, as if to show 343 A fairer mark; and with a fix'd eye scann'd 344 Her father's face---but never stopp'd his hand. 44 345 He gazed on her, and she on him; 'twas strange 346 How like they looked! the expression was the same; 347 Serenely savage, with a little change 348 In the large dark eye's mutual-darted flame; 349 For she too was as one who could avenge, 350 If cause should be---a lioness, though tame: 351 Her father's blood before her father's face 352 Boil'd up, and proved her truly of his race. 45 353 I said they were alike, their features and 354 Their stature differing but in sex and years; 355 Even to the delicacy of their hand 356 There was resemblance, such as true blood wears; 357 And now to see them, thus divided, stand 358 In fix'd ferocity, when joyous tears, 359 And sweet sensations, should have welcomed both, 360 Show what the passions are in their full growth. 46 361 The father paused a moment, then withdrew 362 His weapon, and replaced it; but stood still, 363 And looking on her, as to look her through, 364 "Not I ," he said, "have sought this stranger's ill; 365 Not I have made this desolation: few 366 Would bear such outrage, and forbear to kill; 367 But I must do my duty---how thou hast 368 Done thine, the present vouches for the past. 47 369 "Let him disarm; or, by my father's head, 370 His own shall roll before you like a ball!" 371 He raised his whistle, as the word he said, 372 And blew; another answered to the call, 373 And rushing in disorderly, though led, 374 And arm'd from boot to turban, one and all, 375 Some twenty of his train came, rank on rank; 376 He gave the word, "Arrest or slay the Frank." 48 377 Then, with a sudden movement, he withdrew 378 His daughter; while compress'd within his clasp, 379 'Twixt her and Juan interposed the crew; 380 In vain she struggled in her father's grasp--- 381 His arms were like a serpent's coil: then flew 382 Upon their prey, as darts an angry asp, 383 The file of pirates; save the foremost, who 384 Had fallen, with his right shoulder half cut through. 49 385 The second had his cheek laid open; but 386 The third, a wary, cool old sworder, took 387 The blows upon his cutlass, and then put 388 His own well in; so well, ere you could look, 389 His man was floor'd, and helpless at his foot, 390 With the blood running like a little brook 391 From two smart sabre gashes, deep and red--- 392 One on the arm, the other on the head. 50 393 And then they bound him where he fell, and bore 394 Juan from the apartment: with a sign 395 Old Lambro bade them take him to the shore, 396 Where lay some ships which were to sail at nine. 397 They laid him in a boat, and plied the oar 398 Until they reach'd some galliots, placed in line; 399 On board of one of these, and under hatches, 400 They stowed him, with strict orders to the watches. 51 401 The world is full of strange vicissitudes, 402 And here was one exceedingly unpleasant: 403 A gentleman so rich in the world's goods, 404 Handsome and young, enjoying all the present, 405 Just at the very time when he least broods 406 On such a thing is suddenly to sea sent, 407 Wounded and chain'd, so that he cannot move, 408 And all because a lady fell in love. 52 409 Here I must leave him, for I grow pathetic, 410 Moved by the Chinese nymph of tears, green tea! 411 Than whom Cassandra was not more prophetic; 412 For if my pure libations exceed three, 413 I feel my heart become so sympathetic, 414 That I must have recourse to black Bohea: 415 'Tis pity wine should be so deleterious, 416 For tea and coffee leave us much more serious, 53 417 Unless when qualified with thee, Cogniac! 418 Sweet Naïad of the Phlegethontic rill! 419 Ah! why the liver wilt thou thus attack, 420 And make, like other nymphs, thy lovers ill? 421 I would take refuge in weak punch, but rack 422 (In each sense of the word), whene'er I fill 423 My mild and midnight beakers to the brim, 424 Wakes me next morning with its synonym. 54 425 I leave Don Juan for the present, safe--- 426 Not sound, poor fellow, but severely wounded; 427 Yet could his corporal pangs amount to half 428 Of those with which his Haidée's bosom bounded! 429 She was not one to weep, and rave, and chafe, 430 And then give way, subdued because surrounded; 431 Her mother was a Moorish maid, from Fez, 432 Where all is Eden, or a wilderness. 55 433 There the large olive rains its amber store 434 In marble fonts; there grain, and flower, and fruit, 435 Gush from the earth until the land runs o'er; 436 But there too many a poison-tree has root, 437 And midnight listens to the lion's roar, 438 And long, long deserts scorch the camel's foot, 439 Or heaving whelm the helpless caravan, 440 And as the soil is, so the heart of man. 56 441 Afric is all the sun's, and as her earth 442 Her human clay is kindled; full of power 443 For good or evil, burning from its birth, 444 The Moorish blood partakes the planet's hour, 445 And like the soil beneath it will bring forth: 446 Beauty and love were Haidée's mother's dower; 447 But her large dark eye show'd deep Passion's force, 448 Though sleeping like a lion near a source. 57 449 Her daughter, temper'd with a milder ray, 450 Like summer clouds all silvery, smooth, and fair, 451 Till slowly charged with thunder they display 452 Terror to earth, and tempest to the air, 453 Had held till now her soft and milky way; 454 But overwrought with passion and despair, 455 The fire burst forth from her Numidian veins, 456 Even as the Simoom sweeps the blasted plains. 58 457 The last sight which she saw was Juan's gore, 458 And he himself o'ermaster'd and cut down; 459 His blood was running on the very floor 460 Where late he trod, her beautiful, her own; 461 Thus much she view'd an instant and no more,--- 462 Her struggles ceased with one convulsive groan; 463 On her sire's arm, which until now scarce held 464 Her writhing, fell she like a cedar fell'd. 59 465 A vein had burst, and her sweet lips' pure dyes 466 Were dabbled with the deep blood which ran o'er; 467 And her head droop'd as when the lily lies 468 O'ercharged with rain: her summon'd handmaids bore 469 Their lady to her couch with gushing eyes; 470 Of herbs and cordials they produced their store, 471 But she defied all means they could employ, 472 Like one life could not hold, nor death destroy. 60 473 Days lay she in that state unchanged, though chill 474 With nothing livid, still her lips were red; 475 She had no pulse, but death seem'd absent still; 476 No hideous sign proclaim'd her surely dead; 477 Corruption came not in each mind to kill 478 All hope; to look upon her sweet face bred 479 New thoughts of life, for it seem'd full of soul, 480 She had so much, earth could not claim the whole. 61 481 The ruling passion, such as marble shows 482 When exquisitely chisell'd, still lay there, 483 But fix'd as marble's unchanged aspect throws 484 O'er the fair Venus, but for ever fair; 485 O'er the Laocoon's all eternal throes, 486 And ever-dying Gladiator's air, 487 Their energy like life forms all their fame, 488 Yet looks not life, for they are still the same. 62 489 She woke at length, but not as sleepers wake, 490 Rather the dead, for life seem'd something new, 491 A strange sensation which she must partake 492 Perforce, since whatsoever met her view 493 Struck not on memory, though a heavy ache 494 Lay at her heart, whose earliest beat still true 495 Brought back the sense of pain without the cause, 496 For, for a while, the furies made a pause. 63 497 She look'd on many a face with vacant eye, 498 On many a token without knowing what; 499 She saw them watch her without asking why, 500 And reck'd not who around her pillow sat; 501 Not speechless though she spoke not; not a sigh 502 Relieved her thoughts; dull silence and quick chat 503 Were tried in vain by those who served; she gave 504 No sign, save breath, of having left the grave. 64 505 Her handmaids tended, but she heeded not; 506 Her father watch'd, she turn'd her eyes away; 507 She recognised no being, and no spot 508 However dear or cherish'd in their day; 509 They changed from room to room, but all forgot, 510 Gentle, but without memory she lay; 511 At length those eyes, which they would fain be weaning 512 Back to old thoughts, wax'd full of fearful meaning. 65 513 And then a slave bethought her of a harp; 514 The harper came, and tuned his instrument; 515 At the first notes, irregular and sharp, 516 On him her flashing eyes a moment bent, 517 Then to the wall she turn'd as if to warp 518 Her thoughts from sorrow through her heart re-sent, 519 And he begun a long low island song 520 Of ancient days, ere tyranny grew strong. 66 521 Anon her thin wan fingers beat the wall 522 In time to his old tune; he changed the theme, 523 And sung of love; the fierce name struck through all 524 Her recollection; on her flash'd the dream 525 Of what she was, and is, if ye could call 526 To be so being; in a gushing stream 527 The tears rush'd forth from her o'erclouded brain, 528 Like mountain mists at length dissolved in rain. 67 529 Short solace, in vain relief!---thought came too quick, 530 And whirl'd her brain to madness; she arose 531 As one who ne'er had dwelt among the sick, 532 And flew at all she met, as on her foes; 533 But no one ever heard her speak or shriek, 534 Although her paroxysm drew towards its close: 535 Hers was a phrensy which disdain'd to rave, 536 Even when they smote her, in the hope to save. 68 537 Yet she betray'd at times a gleam of sense; 538 Nothing could make her meet her father's face, 539 Though on all other things with looks intense 540 She gazed, but none she ever could retrace; 541 Food she refused, and raiment; no pretence 542 Availed for either; neither change of place, 543 Nor time, nor skill, nor remedy, could give her 544 Senses to sleep---the power seem'd gone for ever. 69 545 Twelve days and nights she wither'd thus; at last, 546 Without a groan, or sigh, or glance, to show 547 A parting pang, the spirit from her past: 548 And they who watch'd her nearest could not know 549 The very instant, till the change that cast 550 Her sweet face into shadow, dull and slow, 551 Glazed o'er her eyes---the beautiful, the black--- 552 Oh! to possess such lustre---and then lack! 70 553 She died, but not alone; she held within 554 A second principle of life, which might 555 Have dawn'd a fair and sinless child of sin; 556 But closed its little being without light, 557 And went down to the grave unborn, wherein 558 Blossom and bough lie wither'd with one blight; 559 In vain the dews of Heaven descend above 560 The bleeding flower and blasted fruit of love. 71 561 Thus lived---thus died she; never more on her 562 Shall sorrow light, or shame. She was not made 563 Through years or moons the inner weight to bear, 564 Which colder hearts endure till they are laid 565 By age in earth; her days and pleasures were 566 Brief, but delightful---such as had not staid 567 Long with her destiny; but she sleeps well 568 By the sea shore, whereon she loved to dwell. 72 569 That isle is now all desolate and bare, 570 Its dwellings down, its tenants past away; 571 None but her own and father's grave is there, 572 And nothing outward tells of human clay; 573 Ye could not know where lies a thing so fair, 574 No stone is there to show, no tongue to say 575 What was; no dirge, except the hollow sea's, 576 Mourns o'er the beauty of the Cyclades. 73 577 But many a Greek maid in a loving song 578 Sighs o'er her name; and many an islander 579 With her sire's story makes the night less long; 580 Valour was his, and beauty dwelt with her; 581 If she loved rashly, her life paid for wrong--- 582 A heavy price must all pay who thus err, 583 In some shape; let none think to fly the danger, 584 For soon or late Love is his own avenger. 74 585 But let me change this theme, which grows too sad, 586 And lay this sheet of sorrows on the shelf; 587 I don't much like describing people mad, 588 For fear of seeming rather touch'd myself--- 589 Besides I've no more on this head to add; 590 And as my Muse is a capricious elf, 591 We'll put about, and try another tack 592 With Juan, left half-kill'd some stanzas back. 75 593 Wounded and fetter'd, "cabin'd, cribb'd, confined," 594 Some days and nights elapsed before that he 595 Could altogether call the past to mind; 596 And when he did, he found himself at sea, 597 Sailing six knots an hour before the wind; 598 The shores of Ilion lay beneath their lee--- 599 Another time he might have liked to see 'em, 600 But now was not much pleased with Cape Sigaeum. 76 601 There, on the green and village-cotted hill, is 602 (Flank'd by the Hellespont, and by the sea) 603 Entomb'd the bravest of the brave, Achilles; 604 They say so---(Bryant says the contrary): 605 And further downward, tall and towering still, is 606 The tumulus---of whom? Heaven knows; 't may be 607 Patroclus, Ajax, or Protesilaus; 608 All heroes who if living still would slay us. 77 609 High barrows, without marble, or a name, 610 A vast, untill'd, and mountain-skirted plain, 611 And Ida in the distance, still the same, 612 And old Scamander, (if 'tis he) remain; 613 The situation seems still form'd for fame--- 614 A hundred thousand men might fight again 615 With ease; but where I sought for Ilion's walls, 616 The quiet sheep feeds, and the tortoise crawls; 78 617 Troops of untended horses; here and there 618 Some little hamlets, with new names uncouth; 619 Some shepherds, (unlike Paris) led to stare 620 A moment at the European youth 621 Whom to the spot their school-boy feelings bear. 622 A Turk, with beads in hand, and pipe in mouth, 623 Extremely taken with his own religion, 624 Are what I found there---but the devil a Phrygian. 79 625 Don Juan, here permitted to emerge 626 From his dull cabin, found himself a slave; 627 Forlorn, and gazing on the deep blue surge, 628 O'ershadow'd there by many a hero's grave; 629 Weak still with loss of blood, he scarce could urge 630 A few brief questions; and the answers gave 631 No very satisfactory information 632 About his past or present situation. 80 633 He saw some fellow captives, who appear'd 634 To be Italians, as they were in fact; 635 From them, at least, their destiny he heard, 636 Which was an odd one; a troop going to act 637 In Sicily---all singers, duly rear'd 638 In their vocation; had not been attack'd 639 In sailing from Livorno by the pirate, 640 But sold by the impresario at no high rate. 81 641 By one of these, the buffo of the party, 642 Juan was told about their curious case; 643 For although destined to the Turkish mart, he 644 Still kept his spirits up---at least his face; 645 The little fellow really look'd quite hearty, 646 And bore him with some gaiety and grace, 647 Showing a much more reconcil'd demeanour 648 Than did the prima donna and the tenor. 82 649 In a few words he told their hapless story, 650 Saying, "Our Machiavelian impresario, 651 Making a signal off some promontory, 652 Hail'd a strange brig; Corpo di Caio Mario! 653 We were transferr'd on board her in a hurry, 654 Without a single scudo of salario; 655 But if the Sultan has a taste for song, 656 We will revive our fortunes before long. 83 657 "The prima donna, though a little old 658 And haggard with a dissipated life, 659 And subject, when the house is thin, to cold, 660 Has some good notes; and then the tenor's wife, 661 With no great voice, is pleasing to behold; 662 Last carnival she made a deal of strife 663 By carrying off Count Cesare Cicogna 664 From an old Roman princess at Bologna. 84 665 "And then there are the dancers; there's the Nini, 666 With more than one profession gains by all; 667 Then there's that laughing slut the Pelegrini, 668 She too was fortunate last carnival, 669 And made at least five hundred good zecchini, 670 But spends so fast, she has not now a paul; 671 And then there's the Grotesca---such a dancer! 672 Where men have souls or bodies she must answer. 85 673 "As for the figuranti, they are like 674 The rest of all that tribe; with here and there 675 A pretty person, which perhaps may strike, 676 The rest are hardly fitted for a fair; 677 There's one, though tall and stiffer than a pike, 678 Yet has a sentimental kind of air 679 Which might go far, but she don't dance with vigour, 680 The more's the pity, with her face and figure. 86 681 "As for the men, they are a middling set; 682 The Musico is but a crack'd old basin, 683 But being qualified in one way yet, 684 May the seraglio do to set his face in, 685 And as a servant some preferment get; 686 His singing I no further trust can place in: 687 From all the pope makes yearly 'twould perplex 688 To find three perfect pipes of the third sex. 87 689 "The tenor's voice is spoilt by affectation, 690 And for the bass, the beast can only bellow; 691 In fact, he had no singing education, 692 An ignorant, noteless, timeless, tuneless fellow, 693 But being the prima donna's near relation, 694 Who swore his voice was very rich and mellow, 695 They hired him, though to hear him you'd believe 696 An ass was practising recitative. 88 697 "'Twould not become myself to dwell upon 698 My own merits, and though young---I see, Sir---you 699 Have got a travell'd air, which shows you one 700 To whom the opera is by no means new: 701 You've heard of Raucocanti?---I'm the man; 702 The time may come when you may hear me too; 703 You was not last year at the fair of Lugo, 704 But next, when I'm engaged to sing there---do go. 89 705 "Our baritone I almost had forgot, 706 A pretty lad, but bursting with conceit; 707 With graceful action, science not a jot, 708 A voice of no great compass, and not sweet, 709 He always is complaining of his lot, 710 Forsooth, scarce fit for ballads in the street; 711 In lovers' parts his passion more to breathe, 712 Having no heart to show, he shows his teeth." 90 713 Here Raucocanti's eloquent recital 714 Was interrupted by the pirate crew, 715 Who came at stated moments to invite all 716 The captives back to their sad births; each threw 717 A rueful glance upon the waves (which bright all 718 From the blue skies derived a double blue, 719 Dancing all free and happy in the sun), 720 And then went down the hatchway one by one. 91 721 They heard next day---that in the Dardanelles, 722 Waiting for his sublimity's firman, 723 The most imperative of sovereign spells, 724 Which every body does without who can, 725 More to secure them in their naval cells, 726 Lady to lady, well as man to man, 727 Were to be chain'd and lotted out per couple, 728 For the slave market of Constantinople. 92 729 It seems when this allotment was made out, 730 There chanced to be an odd male, and odd female, 731 Who (after some discussion and some doubt, 732 If the soprano might be deem'd to be male, 733 They placed him o'er the women as a scout) 734 Were link'd together, and it happen'd the male 735 Was Juan, who,---an awkward thing at his age, 736 Pair'd off with a Bacchante blooming visage. 93 737 With Raucocanti lucklessly was chain'd 738 The tenor; these two hated with a hate 739 Found only on the stage, and each more pain'd 740 With this his tuneful neighbour than his fate; 741 Sad strife arose, for they were so cross-grain'd, 742 Instead of bearing up without debate, 743 That each pull'd different ways with many an oath, 744 "Arcades ambo," id est ---blackguards both. 94 745 Juan's companion was a Romagnole, 746 But bred within the March of old Ancona, 747 With eyes that look'd into the very soul 748 (And other chief points of a "bella donna"), 749 Bright---and as black and burning as a coal; 750 And through her clear brunette complexion shone a 751 Great wish to please---a most attractive dower, 752 Especially when added to the power. 95 753 But all that power was wasted upon him, 754 For sorrow o'er each sense held stern command; 755 Her eye might flash on his, but found it dim; 756 And though thus chain'd, as natural her hand 757 Touch'd his, nor that---nor any handsome limb 758 (And she had some not easy to withstand) 759 Could stir his pulse, or make his faith feel brittle; 760 Perhaps his recent wounds might help a little. 96 761 No matter; we should ne'er too much inquire, 762 But facts are facts, no knight could be more true, 763 And firmer faith no ladye-love desire; 764 We will omit the proofs, save one or two, 765 'Tis said no one in hand "can hold a fire 766 By thought of frosty Caucasus," but few 767 I really think; yet Juan's then ordeal 768 Was more triumphant, and not much less real. 97 769 Here I might enter on a chaste description, 770 Having withstood temptation in my youth, 771 But hear that several people take exception 772 At the first two books having too much truth; 773 Therefore I'll make Don Juan leave the ship soon, 774 Because the publisher declares, in sooth, 775 Through needles' eyes it easier for the camel is 776 To pass, than those two cantos into families. 98 777 'Tis all the same to me; I'm fond of yielding, 778 And therefore leave them to the purer page 779 Of Smollet, Prior, Ariosto, Fielding, 780 Who say strange things for so correct an age; 781 I once had a great alacrity in wielding 782 My pen, and liked poetic war to wage, 783 And recollect the time when all this cant 784 Would have provoked remarks which now it shan't. 99 785 As boys love rows, my boyhood liked a squabble; 786 But at this hour I wish to part in peace, 787 Leaving such to the literary rabble, 788 Whether my verse's fame be doom'd to cease, 789 While the right hand which wrote it still is able, 790 Or of some centuries to take a lease; 791 The grass upon my grave will grow as long, 792 And sigh to midnight winds, but not to song. 100 793 Of poets who come down to us through distance 794 Of time and tongues, the foster-babes of Fame, 795 Life seems the smallest portion of existence; 796 Where twenty ages gather o'er a name, 797 'Tis as a snowball which derives assistance 798 From every flake, and yet rolls on the same, 799 Even till an iceberg it may chance to grow, 800 But after all 'tis nothing but cold snow. 101 801 And so great names are nothing more than nominal, 802 And love of glory's but an airy lust, 803 Too often in its fury overcoming all 804 Who would as 'twere identify their dust 805 From out the wide destruction, which, entombing all, 806 Leaves nothing till the coming of the just--- 807 Save change; I've stood upon Achilles' tomb, 808 And heard Troy doubted; time will doubt of Rome. 102 809 The very generations of the dead 810 Are swept away, and tomb inherits tomb, 811 Until the memory of an age is fled, 812 And, buried, sinks beneath its offspring's doom: 813 Where are the epitaphs our fathers read? 814 Save a few glean'd from the sepulchral gloom 815 Which once-named myriads nameless lie beneath, 816 And lose their own in universal death. 103 817 I canter by the spot each afternoon 818 Where perish'd in his fame the hero-boy, 819 Who lived too long for men, but died too soon 820 For human vanity, the young De Foix! 821 A broken pillar, not uncouthly hewn, 822 But which neglect is hastening to destroy, 823 Records Ravenna's carnage on its face, 824 While weeds and ordure rankle round the base. 104 825 I pass each day where Dante's bones are laid: 826 A little cupola, more neat than solemn, 827 Protects his dust, but reverence here is paid 828 To the bard's tomb, and not the warrior's column: 829 The time must come, when both alike decay'd, 830 The chieftain's trophy, and the poet's volume, 831 Will sink where lie the songs and wars of earth, 832 Before Pelides' death, or Homer's birth. 105 833 With human blood that column was cemented, 834 With human filth that column is defiled, 835 As if the peasant's coarse contempt were vented 836 To show his loathing of the spot he soil'd; 837 Thus is the trophy used, and thus lamented 838 Should ever be those blood-hounds, from whose wild 839 Instinct of gore and glory earth has known 840 Those sufferings Dante saw in hell alone. 106 841 Yet there will still be bards; though fame is smoke, 842 Its fumes are frankincense to human thought; 843 And the unquiet feelings, which first woke 844 Song in the world, will seek what then they sought; 845 As on the beach the waves at last are broke, 846 Thus to their extreme verge the passions brought 847 Dash into poetry, which is but passion, 848 Or at least was so ere it grew a fashion. 107 849 If in the course of such a life as was 850 At once adventurous and contemplative, 851 Men who partake all passions as they pass, 852 Acquire the deep and bitter power to give 853 Their images again as in a glass, 854 And in such colours that they seem to live; 855 You may do right forbidding them to show 'em, 856 But spoil (I think) a very pretty poem. 108 857 Oh! ye, who make the fortunes of all books! 858 Benign ceruleans of the second sex! 859 Who advertise new poems by your looks, 860 Your "imprimatur" will ye not annex? 861 What, must I go to the oblivious cooks? 862 Those Cornish plunderers of Parnassian wrecks? 863 Ah! must I then the only minstrel be, 864 Proscribed from tasting your Castalian tea! 109 865 What, can I prove "a lion" then no more? 866 A ball-room bard, a foolscap, hot-press darling? 867 To bear the compliments of many a bore, 868 And sigh, "I can't get out," like Yorick's starling; 869 Why then I'll swear, as poet Wordy swore, 870 (Because the world won't read him, always snarling) 871 That taste is gone, that fame is but a lottery, 872 Drawn by the blue-coat misses of a coterie. 110 873 Oh! "darkly, deeply, beautifully blue," 874 As some one somewhere sings about the sky, 875 And I, ye learned ladies, say of you; 876 They say your stockings are so (Heaven knows why, 877 I have examined few pair of that hue); 878 Blue as the garters which serenely lie 879 Round the Patrician left-legs, which adorn 880 The festal midnight, and the levee morn. 111 881 Yet some of you are most seraphic creatures--- 882 But times are alter'd since, a rhyming lover, 883 You read my stanzas, and I read your features: 884 And---but no matter, all those things are over; 885 Still I have no dislike to learned natures, 886 For sometimes such a world of virtues cover; 887 I know one woman of that purple school, 888 The loveliest, chastest, best, but---quite a fool. 112 889 Humboldt, "the first of travellers," but not 890 The last, if late accounts be accurate, 891 Invented, by some name I have forgot, 892 As well as the sublime discovery's date, 893 An airy instrument, with which he sought 894 To ascertain the atmospheric state, 895 By measuring "the intensity of blue ": 896 Oh, Lady Daphne! let me measure you! 113 897 But to the narrative: the vessel bound 898 With slaves to sell off in the capital, 899 After the usual process, might be found 900 At anchor under the seraglio wall; 901 Her cargo, from the plague being safe and sound, 902 Were landed in the market, one and all, 903 And there with Georgians, Russians, and Circassians, 904 Bought up for different purposes and passions. 114 905 Some went off dearly; fifteen hundred dollars 906 For one Circassian, a sweet girl, were given, 907 Warranted virgin; beauty's brightest colours 908 Had deck'd her out in all the hues of heaven: 909 Her sale sent home some disappointed bawlers, 910 Who bade on till the hundreds reach'd eleven; 911 But when the offer went beyond, they knew 912 'Twas for the Sultan, and at once withdrew. 115 913 Twelve negresses from Nubia brought a price 914 Which the West Indian market scarce would bring; 915 Though Wilberforce, at last, has made it twice 916 What 'twas ere Abolition; and the thing 917 Need not seem very wonderful, for vice 918 Is always much more splendid than a king: 919 The virtues, even the most exalted, Charity, 920 Are saving---vice spares nothing for a rarity. 116 921 But for the destiny of this young troop, 922 How some were bought by pachas, some by Jews, 923 How some to burdens were obliged to stoop, 924 And others rose to the command of crews 925 As renegadoes; while in hapless group, 926 Hoping no very old vizier might choose, 927 The females stood, as one by one they pick'd 'em, 928 To make a mistress, or fourth wife, or victim: 117 929 All this must be reserved for further song; 930 Also our hero's lot, howe'er unpleasant, 931 (Because this Canto has become too long) 932 Must be postponed discreetly for the present; 933 I'm sensible redundancy is wrong, 934 But could not for the muse of me put less in't: 935 And now delay the progress of Don Juan, 936 Till what is call'd in Ossian the fifth Duan. |