LXIX.

I say at first-for he found out at last,
But by degrees, that they were fairer far
Than the more glowing dames whose lot is cast
Beneath the influence of the Eastern star-
A further proof we should not judge in haste;
Yet inexperience could not be his bar
To taste:-the truth is, if men would confess,
That novelties please less than they impress.

LXX

Though travell'd, I have never had the luck to Trace up those shuffling negroes, Nile or Niger, To that impracticable place, Timbuctoo,

Where geography finds no one to oblige her With such a chart as may be safely stuck toFor Europe ploughs in Afric like "bos piger: " But if I had been at Timbuctoo, there

No doubt I should be told that black is fair.

LXXI.

It is. I will not swear that black is white;
But I suspect in fact that white is black,
And the whole matter rests upon eyesight.
Ask a blind man, the best judge. You'll attack
Perhaps this new position-but I'm right;

Or if I'm wrong, I'll not be ta'en aback :-
He hath no morn nor night, but all is dark
Within; and what seest thou? A dubious spark.

LXXII.

But I'm relapsing into metaphysics,

That labyrinth, whose clue is of the same Construction as your cures for hectic phthisics, Those bright moths fluttering round a dying flame; And this reflection brings me to plain physics, And to the beauties of a foreign dame, Compared with those of our pure pearls of price, Those Polar summers, all sun, and some ice.

LXXIII.

Or say they are like virtuous mermaids, whose Beginnings are fair faces, ends mere fishes ;Not that there's not a quantity of those

Who have a due respect for their own wishes, Like Russians rushing from hot baths to snows 3 Are they, at bottom virtuous even when vicious: They warm into a scrape, but keep of course, As a reserve, a plunge into remorse.

LXXIV.

But this has nought to do with their outsides. I said that Juan did not think them pretty At the first blush; for a fair Briton hides

Half her attractions-probably from pityAnd rather calmly into the heart glides,

That storms it as a foe would take a city; But once there (if you doubt this, prithee try) She keeps it for you like a true ally.

LXXV.

She cannot step as does an Arab barb,
Or Andalusian girl from mass returning,
Nor wear as gracefully as Gauls her garb,

Nor in her eye Ausonia's glance is burning;
Her voice, though sweet, is not so fit to warb-
le those bravuras (which I still am learning
To like, though I have been seven years in Italy,

LXXVI.

She cannot do these things, nor one or two
Others, in that off-hand and dashing style
Which takes so much-so give the devil his due,
Nor is she quite so ready with her smile,
Nor settles all things in one interview,

(A thing approved as saving time and toil,) But though the soil may give you time and trouble Well cultivated, it will render double.

LXXVII.

And if in fact she takes to a "grande passion,"
It is a very serious thing indeed;
Nine times in ten 'tis but caprice or fashion,
Coquetry, or a wish to take the lead,
The pride of a mere child with a new sash on,
Or wish to make a rival's bosom bleed;
But the tenth instance will be a tornado,
For there's no saying what they will or may do.
LXXVIII.

The reason's obvious: if there's an eclat,

They lose their caste at once, as do the Parias; And when the delicacies of the law [various, Have fill'd their papers with their comments Society, that china without flaw,

(The hypocrite!) will banish them like Marius, o sit amid the ruins of their guilt: For Fame's a Carthage not so soon rebuilt.

LXXIX.

Perhaps this is as it should be ;-it is

A comment on the Gospel's "Sin no more,
And be thy sins forgiven :"-but upon this
I leave the saints to settle their own score.
Abroad, though doubtless they do much amiss,
An erring woman finds an opener door
For her return to virtue-as they call
The lady who should be at home to all.
LXXX.

For me, I leave the matter where I find it,
Knowing that such uneasy virtue leads
People some ten times less in fact to mind it,
And care but for discoveries and not deeds.
And as for chastity, you'll never bind it

By all the laws the strictest lawyer pleads,
But aggravate the crime you have not prevented
By rendering desperate those who had else repented.

LXXXI.

But Juan was no casuist, nor had ponder'd
Upon the moral lessons of mankind:
Besides, he had not seen, of several hundred,
A lady altogether to his mind.

A little "blasé "-'tis not to be wonder'd
At, that his heart had got a tougher rind:
And though not vainer from his past success,
No doubt his sensibilities were less.

LXXXII.

He also had been busy seeing sights-
The parliament and all the other houses;
Had sate beneath the gallery at nights,

To hear debates whose thunder roused not (rouses, The world to gaze upon those northern lights, Which flash'd as far as where the musk-bul.

browses:

He had also stood at times behind the throne

LXXXIII.

He saw, however, at the closing session,
That noble sight, when really free the nation,
A king in constitutional possession

Of such a throne as is the proudest station,
Though despots know it not-till the progression
Of freedom shall complete their education.
'Tis not mere splendor makes the show august
To eye or heart-it is the people's trust.
LXXXIV.

There too he saw (whate'er he may be now)
A prince, the prince of princes, at the time,
With fascination in his very bow,

And full of promise, as the spring of prime.
Though royalty was written on his brow,

He had then the grace too, rare in every clime,
Of being, without alloy of fop or beau,
A finish'd gentleman from top to toe.
LXXXV.

And Juan was received, as hath been said,
Into the best society: and there
Occur'd what often happens, I'm afraid,
However disciplined and debonnaire :
The talent and good humor he display'd,

Besides the mark'd distinction of his air,
Exposed him, as was natural, to temptation,
Even though himself avoided the occasion.

LXXXVI.

CANTO XIII.

I.

1 NOW mean to be serious;-it is time,
Since laughter now-a-days is deem'd too serious.
A jest at vice by virtue's call'd a crime,
And critically held as deleterious:
Besides, the sad's a source of the sublime,

Although when long a little apt to weary us; And therefore shall my lay soar high and solemn, As an old temple dwindled to a column.

II.

The Lady Adeline Amundeville

("Tis an old Norman name, and to be found In pedigrees by those who wander still Along the last fields of that Gothic ground) Was high-born, wealthy by her father's will, And beauteous, even where beauties most abound, In Britain-which of course true patriots find The goodliest soil of body and of mind.

III.

And as my object is morality,

[why,

(Whatever people say,) I don't know whether I'll leave a single reader's eyelid dry,

But harrow up his feelings till they wither, And hew out a huge monument of pathos, As Philip's son proposed to do with Athos.

LXXXVII.

Here the twelfth canto of our introduction
Ends. When the body of the book's begun,
You'll find it of a different construction

From what some people say 'twill be when done:
The plan at present's simply in concoction.
I can't oblige you, reader, to read on ;
That's your affair, not mine: a real spirit

I leave them to their taste, no doubt the best: An eye's an eye, and whether black or blue, Is no great matter, so 'tis in request: 'Tis nonsense to dispute about a hue

The kindest may be taken as a test. The fair sex should be always fair; and no man Till thirty, should perceive there's a plain woman.

IV.

And after that serene and somewhat dull

Epoch, that awkward corner turn'd for days More quiet, when our moon's no more at full, We may presume to criticise or praise; Because indifference begins to lull

way

Our passions, and we walk in wisdom's ways; Also because the figure and the face

LXXXVIII.

And if my thunderbolt not always rattles,
Remember, reader! you have had before
The worst of tempests and the best of battles
That e'er were brew'd from elements of gore,
Besides the most sublime of-Heaven knows what
else:

An usurer could scarce expect much more-
But my best canto, save one on astronomy,
Will turn upon "political economy."
LXXXIX.

That is your present theme for popularity:
Now that the public hedge hath scarce a stake,
It grows an act of patriotic charity,

To show the people the best way to break.
My plan (but I, if but for singularity,

Reserve it) will be very sure to take. Meantime read all the national debt-sinkers, And tell me what you think of our great thinkers.

VII.
Rough Johnson, the great moralist, profess'd,
Right honestly, "he liked an honest hater-"
The only truth that yet has been confess'd

Within these latest thousand years or later.
Perhaps the fine old fellow spoke in jest ;-
For my part, I am but a mere spectator,
And gaze where'er the palace or the hovel is,
Much in the mode of Goethe's Mephistopheles;
VIII.

But neither love, nor hate in much excess;
Though 'twas not once so. If I sneer sometimes,
It is because I cannot well do less,

And now and then it also suits my rhymes. I should be very willing to redress

Men's wrongs, and rather check than punish crimes, Had not Cervantes, in that too true tale

Of Quixote, shown how all such efforts fail.

IX.

Of all tales, 'tis the saddest-and more sad,
Because it makes us smile; his hero's right,
And still pursues the right;-to curb the bad,
His only object, and 'gainst odds to fight,
His guerdon, 'tis his virtue makes him mad!
But his adventures form a sorry sight:-
A sorrier still is the great moral taught
By that real epic unto all who have thought.

X.

Redressing injury, revenging wrong,

To aid the damsel and destroy the caitiff; Opposing singly the united strong,

From foreign yoke to free the helpless native ;Alas must noblest views, like an old song,

Be for mere fancy's sport a theme creative? A jest, a riddle, fame through thick thin and sought? And Socrates himself but Wisdom's Quixote?

XI.

Cervantes smiled Spain's chivalry away;

A single laugh demolish'd the right arm Of his own country;-seldom since that day [charm, Has Spain had heroes. While Romance could The world gave ground before her bright array;

And therefore have his volumes done such harm, That all their glory as a composition

Was dearly purchased by his land's perdition.

XII.

I'm "at my old Lunes "-digression, and forget
The Lady Adeline Amundeville;

The fair most fatal Juan ever met,

Although she was not evil nor meant ill: But Destiny and Passion spread the net,

(Fate is a good excuse for our own will,) And caught them; what do they not catch, methinks? But I'm not Edipus, and life's a sphinx.

XIII.

I tell the tale as it is told, nor dare
To venture a solution: "Davus sum!"
And now I will proceed upon the pair.

Sweet Adeline, amid the gay world's hum,
Was the queen bee, the glass of all that's fair;
Whose charms made all men speak, and women
The last's a miracle, and such was reckon'd, [dumb.
And since that time there has not been a second.