"As for the _figuranti_,[253] they are like

The rest of all that tribe; with here and there

A pretty person, which perhaps may strike--

The rest are hardly fitted for a fair;

There's one, though tall and stiffer than a pike,

Yet has a sentimental kind of air

Which might go far, but she don't dance with vigour--

The more's the pity, with her face and figure.

LXXXVI.

"As for the men, they are a middling set;

The _musico_ is but a cracked old basin,

But, being qualified in one way yet,

May the seraglio do to set his face in,[ef]

And as a servant some preferment get;

His singing I no further trust can place in:

From all the Pope[254] makes yearly 't would perplex

To find three perfect pipes of the _third_ sex.

LXXXVII.

"The tenor's voice is spoilt by affectation;

And for the bass, the beast can only bellow--

In fact, he had no singing education,

An ignorant, noteless, timeless, tuneless fellow;

But being the prima donna's near relation,

Who swore his voice was very rich and mellow,

They hired him, though to hear him you'd believe

An ass was practising recitative.

LXXXVIII.

"'T would not become myself to dwell upon

My own merits, and though young--I see, Sir--you

Have got a travelled air, which speaks you one

To whom the opera is by no means new:

You've heard of Raucocanti?--I'm the man;

The time may come when you may hear me too;

You was[255] not last year at the fair of Lugo,

But next, when I'm engaged to sing there--do go.

LXXXIX.

"Our baritone I almost had forgot,

A pretty lad, but bursting with conceit;

With graceful action, science not a jot,

A voice of no great compass, and not sweet,

He always is complaining of his lot,

Forsooth, scarce fit for ballads in the street;

In lovers' parts his passion more to breathe,

Having no heart to show, he shows his teeth."[eg]

XC.

Here Raucocanti's eloquent recital

Was interrupted by the pirate crew,

Who came at stated moments to invite all

The captives back to their sad berths; each threw

A rueful glance upon the waves, (which bright all

From the blue skies derived a double blue,

Dancing all free and happy in the sun,)

And then went down the hatchway one by one.

XCI.

They heard next day--that in the Dardanelles,

Waiting for his Sublimity's firman,[256]

The most imperative of sovereign spells,

Which everybody does without who can,

More to secure them in their naval cells,

Lady to lady, well as man to man,

Were to be chained and lotted out per couple,

For the slave market of Constantinople.

XCII.

It seems when this allotment was made out,

There chanced to be an odd male, and odd female,

Who (after some discussion and some doubt,

If the soprano might be deemed to be male,

They placed him o'er the women as a scout)

Were linked together, and it happened the male

Was Juan,--who, an awkward thing at his age,

Paired off with a Bacchante blooming visage.

XCIII.

With Raucocanti lucklessly was chained

The tenor; these two hated with a hate

Found only on the stage, and each more pained

With this his tuneful neighbour than his fate;

Sad strife arose, for they were so cross-grained,

Instead of bearing up without debate,

That each pulled different ways with many an oath,

"Arcades ambo," _id est_--blackguards both.[eh]

XCIV.

Juan's companion was a Romagnole,

But bred within the march of old Ancona,

With eyes that looked into the very soul

(And other chief points of a _bella donna_),

Bright--and as black and burning as a coal;

And through her clear brunette complexion shone a

Great wish to please--a most attractive dower,

Especially when added to the power.

XCV.

But all that power was wasted upon him,

For Sorrow o'er each sense held stern command;

Her eye might flash on his, but found it dim:

And though thus chained, as natural her hand

Touched his, nor that--nor any handsome limb

(And she had some not easy to withstand)

Could stir his pulse, or make his faith feel brittle;

Perhaps his recent wounds might help a little.

XCVI.

No matter; we should ne'er too much inquire,

But facts are facts: no Knight could be more true,

And firmer faith no Ladye-love desire;

We will omit the proofs, save one or two:

'T is said no one in hand "can hold a fire

By thought of frosty Caucasus"[257]--but few,

I really think--yet Juan's then ordeal

Was more triumphant, and not much less real.

XCVII.

Here I might enter on a chaste description,

Having withstood temptation in my youth,[ei]

But hear that several people take exception

At the first two books having too much truth;

Therefore I'll make Don Juan leave the ship soon,

Because the publisher declares, in sooth,

Through needles' eyes it easier for the camel is

To pass, than those two cantos into families.

XCVIII.

'T is all the same to me; I'm fond of yielding,

And therefore leave them to the purer page

Of Smollett, Prior, Ariosto, Fielding,

Who say strange things for so correct an age;[258]

I once had great alacrity in wielding

My pen, and liked poetic war to wage,

And recollect the time when all this cant

Would have provoked remarks--which now it shan't.

XCIX.

As boys love rows, my boyhood liked a squabble;

But at this hour I wish to part in peace,

Leaving such to the literary rabble;

Whether my verse's fame be doomed to cease

While the right hand which wrote it still is able,

Or of some centuries to take a lease,

The grass upon my grave will grow as long,

And sigh to midnight winds, but not to song.

C.

Of poets who come down to us through distance

Of time and tongues, the foster-babes of Fame,

Life seems the smallest portion of existence;

Where twenty ages gather o'er a name,

'T is as a snowball which derives assistance

From every flake, and yet rolls on the same,

Even till an iceberg it may chance to grow;

But, after all, 't is nothing but cold snow.

CI.

And so great names are nothing more than nominal,

And love of Glory's but an airy lust,

Too often in its fury overcoming all

Who would as 't were identify their dust

From out the wide destruction, which, entombing all,

Leaves nothing till "the coming of the just"--

Save change: I've stood upon Achilles' tomb,

And heard Troy doubted;[259] Time will doubt of Rome.

CII.

The very generations of the dead

Are swept away, and tomb inherits tomb,

Until the memory of an Age is fled,

And, buried, sinks beneath its offspring's doom:

Where are the epitaphs our fathers read?

Save a few gleaned from the sepulchral gloom

Which once-named myriads nameless lie beneath,

And lose their own in universal Death.

CIII.

I canter by the spot each afternoon

Where perished in his fame the hero-boy,

Who lived too long for men, but died too soon

For human vanity, the young De Foix!

A broken pillar, not uncouthly hewn,

But which Neglect is hastening to destroy,

Records Ravenna's carnage on its face,

While weeds and ordure rankle round the base.[260]

CIV.

I pass each day where Dante's bones are laid:[261]

A little cupola, more neat than solemn,

Protects his dust, but reverence here is paid[ej]

To the Bard's tomb, and not the Warrior's column:

The time must come, when both alike decayed,

The Chieftain's trophy, and the Poet's volume,

Will sink where lie the songs and wars of earth,

Before Pelides' death, or Homer's birth.

CV.

With human blood that column was cemented,

With human filth that column is defiled,

As if the peasant's coarse contempt were vented

To show his loathing of the spot he soiled:[ek]

Thus is the trophy used, and thus lamented

Should ever be those blood-hounds, from whose wild

Instinct of gore and glory Earth has known

Those sufferings Dante saw in Hell alone.[el]

CVI.

Yet there will still be bards: though Fame is smoke,

Its fumes are frankincense to human thought;

And the unquiet feelings, which first woke

Song in the world, will seek what then they sought;[em]

As on the beach the waves at last are broke,

Thus to their extreme verge the passions brought

Dash into poetry, which is but Passion,

Or, at least, was so ere it grew a fashion.

CVII.

If in the course of such a life as was

At once adventurous and contemplative,

Men who partake all passions as they pass,

Acquire the deep and bitter power to give[en]

Their images again as in a glass,

And in such colours that they seem to live;

You may do right forbidding them to show 'em,

But spoil (I think) a very pretty poem.[262]

CVIII.

Oh! ye, who make the fortunes of all books!

Benign Ceruleans of the second sex!

Who advertise new poems by your looks,

Your "Imprimatur" will ye not annex?

What! must I go to the oblivious cooks,[eo]

Those Cornish plunderers of Parnassian wrecks?

Ah! must I then the only minstrel be,

Proscribed from tasting your Castalian tea![263]

CIX.

What! can I prove "a lion" then no more?

A ball-room bard, a foolscap, hot-press darling?

To bear the compliments of many a bore,

And sigh, "I can't get out," like Yorick's starling;[264]

Why then I'll swear, as poet Wordy swore

(Because the world won't read him, always snarling),

That Taste is gone, that Fame is but a lottery,

Drawn by the blue-coat misses of a coterie.[265]

CX.

Oh! "darkly, deeply, beautifully blue,"[266]

As some one somewhere sings about the sky,

And I, ye learnéd ladies, say of you;

They say your stockings are so--(Heaven knows why,

I have examined few pair of that hue);

Blue as the garters which serenely lie

Round the Patrician left-legs, which adorn

The festal midnight, and the levee morn.[ep]

CXI.

Yet some of you are most seraphic creatures--

But times are altered since, a rhyming lover,

You read my stanzas, and I read your features:

And--but no matter, all those things are over;

Still I have no dislike to learnéd natures,

For sometimes such a world of virtues cover;

I knew one woman of that purple school,

The loveliest, chastest, best, but--quite a fool.[267]

CXIII.

Humboldt, "the first of travellers," but not

The last, if late accounts be accurate,

Invented, by some name I have forgot,

As well as the sublime discovery's date,

An airy instrument, with which he sought

To ascertain the atmospheric state,

By measuring "the _intensity of blue:_"[268]

Oh, Lady Daphne! let me measure you![eq]

CXIII.

But to the narrative:--The vessel bound

With slaves to sell off in the capital,

After the usual process, might be found

At anchor under the seraglio wall;

Her cargo, from the plague being safe and sound,

Were landed in the market,[269] one and all;

And, there, with Georgians, Russians, and Circassians,

Bought up for different purposes and passions.

CXIV.

Some went off dearly; fifteen hundred dollars

For one Circassian, a sweet girl, were given,

Warranted virgin; Beauty's brightest colours

Had decked her out in all the hues of heaven:

Her sale sent home some disappointed bawlers,

Who bade on till the hundreds reached eleven;

But when the offer went beyond, they knew

'T was for the Sultan, and at once withdrew.

CXV.

Twelve negresses from Nubia brought a price

Which the West Indian market scarce could bring--

Though Wilberforce, at last, has made it twice

What 't was ere Abolition; and the thing

Need not seem very wonderful, for Vice

Is always much more splendid than a King:

The Virtues, even the most exalted, Charity,

Are saving--Vice spares nothing for a rarity.

CXVI.

But for the destiny of this young troop,

How some were bought by Pachas, some by Jews,

How some to burdens were obliged to stoop,

And others rose to the command of crews

As renegadoes; while in hapless group,

Hoping no very old Vizier might choose,

The females stood, as one by one they picked 'em,

To make a mistress, or fourth wife, or victim:[er]

CXVII.

All this must be reserved for further song;

Also our Hero's lot, howe'er unpleasant

(Because this Canto has become too long),[es]

Must be postponed discreetly for the present;

I'm sensible redundancy is wrong,

But could not for the Muse of me put less in 't:

And now delay the progress of Don Juan,

Till what is called in Ossian the fifth Duan.

Written Nov. 1819. Copied January, 1820.

FOOTNOTES:

{183}[230]

["Till Pride and worse Ambition threw me down,

Warring in Heaven against Heaven's matchless King."

_Paradise Lost_, iv. 40, 41.]

[231]

["Time hovers o'er, impatient to destroy,

And shuts up all the passages of joy:

In vain their gifts the bounteous seasons pour,

The fruit autumnal, and the vernal flow'r;

With listless eyes the dotard views the store,

He views, and wonders that they please no more."

Johnson's _Vanity of Human Wishes._]

{184}[232]

[" ... my May of Life

Is fall'n into the sere, the yellow leaf."

_Macbeth_, act v. sc. 3, lines 22, 23.]

[dh] _Itself to that fit apathy whose deed._--[MS.]

[di] _First in the icy depths of Lethe's spring._--[MS.]

[233] [See "Introduction to the _Morgante Maggiore_," _Poetical Works_,

1901, iv. 280.]

[dj] _Pulci being Father_--.--[MS. Alternative reading.]

{185}[234] ["Cum canerem reges et prælia, Cynthius aurem Vellit, et

admonuit." Virgil, _Ecl._ vi. lines 3, 4.]

{186}[dk]

---- _from its mother's knee_

_When its last weaning draught is drained for ever_,

_The child divided--it were less to see_,

_Than these two from each other torn apart_.--[MS.]

[235] [See Herodotus (_Cleobis and Biton_), i. 31. The sentiment is in a

fragment of Menander.

Ὅν οἱ θεοὶ φιλοῦσιν ἀποθνήσκει νέος

[Greek: O(/n oi( theoi\ philou~sin a)pothnê/skei ne/os]

or

Ὅν γὰρ φιλεῖ θεὸς ἀποθνήσκει νέος.

[Greek: O(/n ga\r philei~ theo\s a)pothnê/skei ne/os.]

_Menandri at Philomenis reliquiæ_, edidit Augustus Meineke, p. 48.

See _Letters_, 1898, ii. 22, note 1. Byron applied the saying to

Allegra in a letter to Sir Walter Scott, dated May 4, 1822, _Letters_,

1901, vi. 57.]

[236] [Compare _Childe Harold_, Canto II. stanza xcvi. line 7. Compare,

too, Young's _Night Thoughts_ ("The Complaint," Night I. ed. 1825, p.

5)]

{187}[237] [Compare Swift's "little language" in his letter to Stella:

_Podefar_, for instance, which is supposed to stand for "Poor dear

foolish rogue," and Ppt., which meant "Poor pretty thing."--See _The

Journal of Stella_, edited by G.A. Aitken, 1901, xxxv. note 1, and

"Journal: March, 1710-11," 165, note 2.]

[dl]

_For theirs were buoyant spirits, which would bound_

_'Gainst common failings, etc_.--[MS.]

{188}[238] [The reference may be to Coleridge's _Kubla Khan_, which, to

Medwin's wonderment, "delighted" Byron (_Conversations_, 1824, p. 264).

De Quincy's _Confessions of an English Opium Eater_ appeared in the

_London Magazine_, October, November, 1821, after Cantos III., IV., V.,

of _Don Juan_ were published. But, perhaps, he was contrasting the

"simpler blisses" of Juan and Haidée with Shelley's mystical affinities

and divagations.]

[dm] _---- had set their hearts a bleeding._--[MS.]

{190}[239]

["The shadowy desert, unfrequented woods,

I better brook than flourishing peopled towns:

There can I sit alone, unseen of any,

And to the nightingale's complaining notes

Tune my distresses, and record, my woes."

_Two Gentlemen of Verona_, act v. sc. 4, lines 2-6.]

{191}[dn] _Called social, where all Vice and Hatred are._--[MS.]

[do] _Moved with her dream----._--[MS.]

[dp]

_Strange state of being!--for 't is still to be--_

_And who can know all false what then we see?_--[MS.]

{192}[240] [Compare the description of the "spacious cave," in _The

Island_, Canto IV. lines 121, _sq., Poetical Works_, 1901, v. 629,

note 1.]

[dq]---- _methought_.--[MS. Alternative reading.]

{195}[241] [The reader will observe a curious mark of propinquity which

the poet notices, with respect to the hands of the father and daughter.

Lord Byron, we suspect, is indebted for the first hint of this to Ali

Pacha, who, by the bye, is the original of Lambro; for, when his

lordship was introduced, with his friend Hobhouse, to that agreeable

mannered tyrant, the Vizier said that he knew he was the _Megalos

Anthropos_ (i.e. the great Man), by the smallness of his ears and

hands.--Galt. See Byron's letter to his mother, November 12, 1809,

_Letters_, 1898, i. 251.]

[dr]

_And if_ I _did my duty as_ thou _hast_,

_This hour were thine, and thy young minions last_.--[MS.]

{196}[ds] _Till further orders should his doom assign_.--[MS.]

[dt] _Loving and loved_--.--[MS.]

{197}[du]

_But thou, sweet fury of the fiery rill,_

_Makest on the liver a still worse attack;_

_Besides, thy price is something dearer still_.--[MS.]

[242] ["As squire Sullen says, '\My head aches consumedly,' 'Scrub,

bring me a dram!' Drank some Imola wine, and some punch!"--_Extracts

from a Diary_, February 25, 1821, _Letters_, 1901, v. 209. For rack or

"arrack" punch, see Thackeray's _Vanity Fair, A Novel without a Hero_,

chap. vi. ed. 1892, p. 44.]

{198}[243] ["At Fas [Fez] the houses of the great and wealthy have,

within-side, spacious courts, adorned with sumptuous galleries,

fountains, basons of fine marble, and fish-ponds, shaded with orange,

lemon, pomegranate, and fig trees, abounding with fruit, and ornamented

with roses, hyacinths, jasmine, violets, and orange flowers, emitting a

delectable fragrance."--_Account of the Empire of Marocco and Suez_, by

James Grey Jackson, 1811, pp. 69, 70.]

[dv]

_Beauty and Passion were the natural dower_

_Of Haidée's mother, but her climate's force_

_Lay at her heart, though sleeping at the source_.

or, _But in her large eye lay deep Passion's force_,

_Like to a lion sleeping by a source_.

or, _But in her large eye lay deep Passion's force_,

_As sleeps a lion by a river's source_.--[MS.]

[244] [Compare _Manfred_, act iii. sc. 1, line 128, _Poetical Works_,

1901, iv. 125.]

{199}[dw]

_The blood gushed from her lips, and ears, and eyes:_

_Those eyes, so beautiful--beheld no more_.--[MS.]

[245] This is no very uncommon effect of the violence of conflicting and

different passions. The Doge Francis Foscari, on his deposition in 1457,

hearing the bells of St. Mark announce the election of his successor,

"mourut subitement d'une hémorragie causée par une veine qui s'éclata

dans sa poitrine" [see Sismondi, 1815, x. 46, and Daru, 1821, ii. 536;

see, too, _The Two Foscari_, act v. sc. i, line 306, and Introduction to

the _Two Foscari_, _Poetical Works_, 1901, v. 118, 193], at the age of

eighty years, when "_Who would have thought the old man had so much

blood in him?_" (_Macbeth_, act v. sc. 1, lines 34-36.) Before I was

sixteen years of age I was witness to a melancholy instance of the same

effect of mixed passions upon a young person, who, however, did not die

in consequence, at that time, but fell a victim some years afterwards to

a seizure of the same kind, arising from causes intimately connected

with agitation of mind.

{200}[246] [The view of the Venus of Medici instantly suggests the lines

in the "Seasons" [the description of "Musidora bathing" in _Summer_]--

" ... With wild surprise,

As if to marble struck, devoid of sense,

A stupid moment motionless she stood:

So stands the statue that enchants the world."

Hobhouse.

A still closer parallel to this stanza, and to _Childe Harold_, Canto

IV. stanzas xlix., cxl., cxli., clx., clxi., is to be found in Thomson's

_Liberty_, pt. iv. lines 131-206, where the "Farnese Hercules," the

"Dying Gladiator," the "Venus of Medici," and the "Laocoon" group, are

commemorated as typical works of art.]

[dx] _Distinct from life, as being still the same_.--[MS.]

{202}[dy] _--working slow._--[MS.]

[dz] _Have dawned a child of beauty, though of sin._--[MS.]

[247]

[" ... Duncan is in his grave:

After life's fitful fever he sleeps well."

_Macbeth_, act iii. sc. 2., lines 22, 23.]

{203}[ea]

_No stone is there to read, nor tongue to say_,

_No dirge--save when arise the stormy seas_.--[MS.]

[248] ["But now I am cabined, cribbed," etc. _Macbeth_, act iii. sc. 4,

line 24.]

{204}[249] [Jacob Bryant (1715-1804) published his _Dissertation

concerning the War of Troy, etc._, in 1796. See _The Bride of Abydos_,

Canto II. lines 510, sq., _Poetical Works_, 1900, iii. 179, note 1. See,

too, _Extracts from a Diary_, January 11, 1821, _Letters_, 1901, v. 165,

166, "I have stood upon that plain [of Troy] _daily_, for more than a

month, in 1810; and if anything diminished my pleasure, it was that the

blackguard Bryant had impugned its veracity." Hobhouse, in his _Travels

in Albania_, 1858, ii. 93, sq., discusses at length the identity of the

barrows of the Troad with the _tumuli_ of Achilles, Ajax, and

Protesilaus, and refutes Bryant's arguments against the identity of Cape

Janissary and the Sigean promontory.

[eb]

/ who alive perhaps \

_All heroes_ < >--[MS. Alternative reading.]

\ if still alive /

[ec]

/ _and mountain-bounded \

---- < > plain_.--[MS. Alternative reading.]

\ _and mountain-outlined /

[250] ["The whole region was, in a manner, in possession of the

_Salsette's_ crew, parties of whom, in their white summer dresses, might

be seen scattered over the plains collecting the tortoises, which swarm

on the sides of the rivulets, and are found under every

furze-bush."--_Travels in Albania_, 1858, ii. 116. See, too, for mention

of "hundreds of tortoises" falling "from the overhanging branches, and

thick underwood," into the waters of the Mender, _Travels, etc._, by

E.D. Clarke, 1812, Part II. sect. i. p. 96.]

[ed]---- _and land tortoise crawls_.--[MS. Alternative reading.]

{205}[ee] --_their learned researches bear_.--[MS. Alternative reading.]

[251] This is a fact. A few years ago a man engaged a company for some

foreign theatre, embarked them at an Italian port, and carrying them to

Algiers, sold them all. One of the women, returned from her captivity, I

heard sing, by a strange coincidence, in Rossini's opera of _L'Italiana

in Algieri_, at Venice, in the beginning of 1817.

[We have reason to believe that the following, which we take from the

MS. journal of a highly respectable traveller, is a more correct

account: "In 1812 a Signor Guariglia induced several young persons of

both sexes--none of them exceeding fifteen years of age--to accompany

him on an operatic excursion; part to form the opera, and part the

ballet. He contrived to get them on board a vessel, which took them to

Janina, where he sold them for the basest purposes. Some died from the

effect of the climate, and some from suffering. Among the few who

returned were a Signor Molinari, and a female dancer named Bonfiglia,

who afterwards became the wife of Crespi, the tenor singer. The wretch

who so basely sold them was, when Lord Byron resided at Venice, employed

as _capo de' vestarj_, or head tailor, at the Fenice."--Maria Graham

(Lady Callcot). Ed. 1832.]

{206}[252] [A comic singer in the _opera buffa_. The Italians, however,

distinguish the _buffo cantante_, which requires good singing, from the

_buffo comico_, in which there is more acting.--Ed. 1832.]

{207}[253] [The figuranti are those dancers of a ballet who do not dance

singly, but many together, and serve to fill up the background during

the exhibition of individual performers. They correspond to the chorus

in the opera.--Maria Graham.]

[ef] _To help the ladies in their dress and lacing_.--[MS.]

[254] It is strange that it should be the Pope and the Sultan, who are

the chief encouragers of this branch of trade--women being prohibited as

singers at St. Peter's, and not deemed trustworthy as guardians of the

harem.

["Scarcely a soul of them can read. Pacchierotti was one of the best

informed of the _castrati_ ... Marchesi is so grossly ignorant that he

wrote the word opera, _opperra_, but Nature has been so bountiful to the

animal, that his ignorance and insolence were forgotten the moment he

sang."--_Venice, etc._, by a Lady of Rank, 1824, ii. 86.]

{208}[255] [The N. Engl. Dict. cites Bunyan, Walpole, Fielding, Miss

Austen, and Dickens as authorities for the plural "was." See art. "be."

Here, as elsewhere, Byron wrote as he spoke.]

[eg] _He never shows his feelings, but his teeth_.--[MS. Alternative

reading.]

[256] ["Our firman arrived from Constantinople on the 30th of April

(1810)."--Travels in Albania, 1858, ii. 186.]

{209}[eh]

_That each pulled, different ways--and waxing rough_,

_Had cuffed each other, only for the cuff_.--[MS.]

{210}[257]

["O, who can hold a fire in his hand,

By thinking on the frosty Caucasus?"

_Richard II.,_ act i. sc. 3, lines 294, 295.]

[ei] _Having had some experience in my youth_.--[MS. erased.]

[258] ["_Don Juan_ will be known, _by and by_, for what it is

intended--a Satire on abuses in the present states of society, and not

an eulogy of vice. It may be now and then voluptuous:--I can't help

that. Ariosto is worse. Smollett (see Lord Strutwell in vol. 2^nd^ of

_R_[_oderick_] _R_[_andom_][1793, pp. 119-127]) ten times worse; and

Fielding no better."--Letter to Murray, December 25, 1822, _Letters_,

1901, vi. 155, 156.]

{211}[259] [_Vide ante_, p. 204, note 1. "It seems hardly to admit of

doubt, that the plain of Anatolia, watered by the Mender, and backed by

a mountainous ridge, of which Kazdaghy is the summit, offers the precise

territory alluded to by Homer. The long controversy, excited by Mr.

Bryant's publication, and since so vehemently agitated, would probably

never have existed, had it not been for the erroneous maps of the

country which, even to this hour, disgrace our geographical knowledge of

that part of Asia."--_Travels, etc._, by E.D. Clarke, 1812, Part II.

sect, i. p. 78.]

{212}[260] The pillar which records the battle of Ravenna is about two

miles from the city, on the opposite side of the river to the road

towards Forli. Gaston de Foix [(1489-1512) Duc de Nemours, nephew of

Louis XII.], who gained the battle, was killed in it: there fell on both

sides twenty thousand men. The present state of the pillar and its site

is described in the text.

[Beyond the Porta Sisi, about two miles from Ravenna, on the banks of

the Ronco, is a square pillar (_La Colonna de Francesi_), erected in

1557 by Pietro Cesi, president of Romagna, as a memorial of the battle

gained by the combined army of Louis XII. and the Duke of Ferrara over

the troops of Julius II. and the King of Spain, April 11

1512.--_Handbook of Northern Italy_, p. 548.]

[261] [Compare _Childe Harold_, Canto IV. stanza lvii. line i, _Poetical

Works_, 1899, ii. 371, note i. See, too, Preface to the _Prophecy of

Dante, ibid_., iv. 243.]

[ej] _Protects his tomb, but greater care is paid_.--[MS.]

{213}[ek]

_With human ordure is it now defiled_,

_As if the peasant's scorn this mode invented_

_To show his loathing of the thing he soiled_.--[MS.]

[el] _Those sufferings once reserved for Hell alone._--[MS.]

[em]

_Its fumes are frankincense; and were there nought_

_Even of this vapour, still the chilling yoke_

_Of silence would not long be borne by Thought_.--[MS.]

[en]

_I have drunk deep of passions as they pass,_

_And dearly bought the bitter power to give_.--[MS.]

[262] [See, for instance, Wilson's review of _Don Juan_, in _Blackwood's

Edinburgh Magazine_, August, 1819, vol. v. p. 512, _sq._: "To confess

... to his Maker, and to weep over in secret agonies the wildest and

most fantastic transgressions of heart and mind, is the part of a

conscious sinner, in whom sin has not become the sole principle of life

and action.... But to lay bare to the eye of man--and of _woman_--all

the hidden convulsions of a wicked spirit," etc.]

{214}[eo]

_What! must I go with Wordy to the cooks?_

_Read--were it but your Grandmother's to vex--_

_And let me not the only minstrel be_

_Cut off from tasting your Castalian tea_.--[MS.]

[263] [Compare--

"I leave them to their daily 'tea is ready,'

Snug coterie, and literary lady."

_Beppo_, stanza lxxvi. lines 7, 8, _Poetical Works_, 1901, iv. 184,

note.]

[264] [The caged starling, by its repeated cry, "I can't get out! I

can't get out!" cured Yorick of his sentimental yearnings for

imprisonment in the Bastille. See Sterne's _Sentimental Journey_, ed.

1804, pp. 100-106.]

[265] [In his _Essay, Supplement to the Preface_ (_Poems by William

Wordsworth_, ed. 1820, iii. 315-348), Wordsworth maintains that the

appreciation of great poetry is a plant of slow growth, that immediate

recognition is a mark of inferiority, or is to be accounted for by the

presence of adventitious qualities: "So strange, indeed, are the

obliquities of admiration, that they whose opinions are much influenced

by authority will often be tempted to think that there are no fixed

principles in human nature for this art to rest upon.... Away, then,

with the senseless iteration of the word _popular!_ ... The voice that

issues from this spirit [of human knowledge] is that _Vox Populi_ which

the Deity inspires. Foolish must he be who can mistake for this a local

acclamation, or a transitory outcry--transitory though it be for years,

local though from a Nation. Still more lamentable is his error who can

believe that there is anything of divine infallibility in this clamour

of that small though loud portion of the community ever governed by

factitious influence, which under the name of the PUBLIC, passes itself

upon the unthinking for the PEOPLE." Naturally enough Byron regarded

this pronouncement as a taunt if not as a challenge. Wordsworth's noble

appeal from a provincial to an imperial authority, from the present to

the future, is not strengthened by the obvious reference to the

popularity of contemporaries.]

{215}[266] [Southey's _Madoc in Wales, Poetical Works_, Part I. Canto V.

Ed. 1838, v. 39.]

[ep]

_Not having looked at many of that hue,_

_Nor garters--save those of the_ "honi soit"--_which lie_

_Round the Patrician legs which walk about,_

_The ornaments of levee and of rout_.--[M.S.]

[267] [Probably Lady Charlemont. See "Journal," November 22, 1813.]

{216}[268] [The cyanometer, an instrument for ascertaining the intensity

of the blue colour of the sky, was invented by Horace Bénédict de

Saussure (1740-1799); see his _Essai sur l'Hygrométrie_. F.H. Alexander

von Humboldt (1769-1859) "made great use of his instrument on his

voyages, and ascertained by the colour the degree of blueness, the

accumulation and the nature of the non-transparent exhalations of the

air."--_Alexander von Humboldt_, by Professor Klencke, translated by

Juliette Bauer, 1852, pp. 45, 46.]

[eq]

_I'll back a London_ "Bas" _against Peru_.

or, _I'll bet some pair of stocking beat Peru_.

or, _And so, old Sotheby, we'll measure you_.--[MS.]

[269] ["The slave-market is a quadrangle, surrounded by a covered

gallery, and ranges of small and separate apartments." Here the poor

wretches sit in a melancholy posture. "Before they cheapen 'em, they

turn 'em about from this side to that, survey 'em from top to bottom....

Such of 'em, both men and women, to whom Dame Nature has been niggardly

of her charms, are set apart for the vilest services: but such girls as

have youth and beauty pass their time well enough.... The retailers of

this human ware are the Jews, who take good care of their slaves'

education, that they may sell the better: their choicest they keep at

home, and there you must go, if you would have better than ordinary; for

'tis here, as 'tis in markets for horses, the handsomest don't always

appear, but are kept within doors."--_A Voyage into the Levant_, by M.

Tournefort, 1741, ii. 198, 199. See, too, for the description of the

sale of two Circassians and one Georgian, _Voyage de Vienne à Belgrade_,

... par N.E. Kleeman, 1780, pp. 141, 142. The "lowest offer for the

prize Circassian was 4000 piastres."]

[er]

_The females stood, till chosen each as victim_

_To the soft oath of "Ana seing Siktum!"_[*]--[MS.]

[[*]If the Turkish words are correctly given, "the oath" may be an

imprecation on "your mother's" chastity.]

[es] _For fear the Canto should become too long._--[MS.]

CANTO THE FIFTH.[270]

I.

WHEN amatory poets sing their loves

In liquid lines mellifluously bland,

And pair their rhymes as Venus yokes her doves,

They little think what mischief is in hand;

The greater their success the worse it proves,

As Ovid's verse may give to understand;

Even Petrarch's self, if judged with due severity,

Is the Platonic pimp of all posterity.

II.

I therefore do denounce all amorous writing,

Except in such a way as not to attract;

Plain--simple--short, and by no means inviting,

But with a moral to each error tacked,

Formed rather for instructing than delighting,

And with all passions in their turn attacked;

Now, if my Pegasus should not be shod ill,

This poem will become a moral model.

III.

The European with the Asian shore

Sprinkled with palaces--the Ocean stream[271]

Here and there studded with a seventy-four,

Sophia's Cupola with golden gleam,[272]

The cypress groves, Olympus high and hoar,

The twelve isles, and the more than I could dream,

Far less describe, present the very view

Which charmed the charming Mary Montagu.

IV.

I have a passion for the name of "Mary,"[273]

For once it was a magic sound to me;

And still it half calls up the realms of Fairy,

Where I beheld what never was to be;

All feelings changed, but this was last to vary,

A spell from which even yet I am not quite free:

But I grow sad--and let a tale grow cold,

Which must not be pathetically told.

V.

The wind swept down the Euxine, and the wave

Broke foaming o'er the blue Symplegades;

'T is a grand sight from off "the Giant's Grave"[274]

To watch the progress of those rolling seas

Between the Bosphorus, as they lash and lave

Europe and Asia, you being quite at ease:

There's not a sea the passenger e'er pukes in,

Turns up more dangerous breakers than the Euxine.

VI.

'T was a raw day of Autumn's bleak beginning,

When nights are equal, but not so the days;

The Parcæ then cut short the further spinning

Of seamen's fates, and the loud tempests raise[et]

The waters, and repentance for past sinning

In all, who o'er the great deep take their ways:

They vow to amend their lives, and yet they don't;

Because if drowned, they can't--if spared, they won't.

VII.

A crowd of shivering slaves of every nation,

And age, and sex, were in the market ranged;

Each bevy with the merchant in his station:

Poor creatures! their good looks were sadly changed.

All save the blacks seemed jaded with vexation,

From friends, and home, and freedom far estranged;

The negroes more philosophy displayed,--

Used to it, no doubt, as eels are to be flayed.

VIII.

Juan was juvenile, and thus was full,

As most at his age are, of hope, and health;

Yet I must own, he looked a little dull,

And now and then a tear stole down by stealth;

Perhaps his recent loss of blood might pull

His spirit down; and then the loss of wealth,

A mistress, and such comfortable quarters,

To be put up for auction amongst Tartars,

IX.

Were things to shake a Stoic; ne'ertheless,

Upon the whole his carriage was serene:

His figure, and the splendour of his dress,

Of which some gilded remnants still were seen,

Drew all eyes on him, giving them to guess

He was above the vulgar by his mien;

And then, though pale, he was so very handsome;

And then--they calculated on his ransom.[eu]

X.

Like a backgammon board the place was dotted

With whites and blacks, in groups on show for sale,

Though rather more irregularly spotted:

Some bought the jet, while others chose the pale.

It chanced amongst the other people lotted,[ev]

A man of thirty, rather stout and hale,

With resolution in his dark grey eye,

Next Juan stood, till some might choose to buy.

XI.

He had an English look; that is, was square

In make, of a complexion white and ruddy,

Good teeth, with curling rather dark brown hair,

And, it might be from thought, or toil, or study,

An open brow a little marked with care:

One arm had on a bandage rather bloody;

And there he stood with such _sang froid,_ that greater

Could scarce be shown even by a mere spectator.

XII.

But seeing at his elbow a mere lad,

Of a high spirit evidently, though

At present weighed down by a doom which had

O'erthrown even men, he soon began to show

A kind of blunt compassion for the sad

Lot of so young a partner in the woe,

Which for himself he seemed to deem no worse

Than any other scrape, a thing of course.

XIII.

"My boy!"--said he, "amidst this motley crew

Of Georgians, Russians, Nubians, and what not,

All ragamuffins differing but in hue,

With whom it is our luck to cast our lot,

The only gentlemen seem I and you;

So let us be acquainted, as we ought:

If I could yield you any consolation,

'T would give me pleasure.--Pray, what is your nation?"

XIV.

When Juan answered--"Spanish!" he replied,

"I thought, in fact, you could not be a Greek;

Those servile dogs are not so proudly eyed:

Fortune has played you here a pretty freak,

But that's her way with all men, till they're tried;

But never mind,--she'll turn, perhaps, next week;

She has served me also much the same as you,

Except that I have found it nothing new."

XV.

"Pray, sir," said Juan, "if I may presume,

_What_ brought you here?"--"Oh! nothing very rare--

Six Tartars and a drag-chain----"--"To this doom

But what conducted, if the question 's fair,

Is that which I would learn."--"I served for some

Months with the Russian army here and there;

And taking lately, by Suwarrow's bidding,

A town, was ta'en myself instead of Widdin."[275]

XVI.

"Have you no friends?"--"I had--but, by God's blessing,

Have not been troubled with them lately. Now

I have answered all your questions without pressing,

And you an equal courtesy should show."

"Alas!" said Juan, "'t were a tale distressing,

And long besides."--"Oh! if 't is really so,

You're right on both accounts to hold your tongue;

A sad tale saddens doubly when 't is long.

XVII.

"But droop not: Fortune at your time of life,

Although a female moderately fickle,

Will hardly leave you (as she's not your wife)

For any length of days in such a pickle.

To strive, too, with our fate were such a strife

As if the corn-sheaf should oppose the sickle:

Men are the sport of circumstances, when

The circumstances seem the sport of men."

XVIII.

"'T is not," said Juan, "for my present doom

I mourn, but for the past;--I loved a maid:"--

He paused, and his dark eye grew full of gloom;

A single tear upon his eyelash staid

A moment, and then dropped; "but to resume,

'Tis not my present lot, as I have said,

Which I deplore so much; for I have borne

Hardships which have the hardiest overworn,

XIX.

"On the rough deep. But this last blow--" and here

He stopped again, and turned away his face.

"Aye," quoth his friend, "I thought it would appear

That there had been a lady in the case;

And these are things which ask a tender tear,

Such as I, too, would shed if in your place:

I cried upon my first wife's dying day,

And also when my second ran away:

XX.

"My third----"--"Your third!" quoth Juan, turning round;

"You scarcely can be thirty: have you three?"

"No--only two at present above ground:

Surely 't is nothing wonderful to see

One person thrice in holy wedlock bound!"

"Well, then, your third," said Juan; "what did she?

She did not run away, too,--did she, sir?"

"No, faith."--"What then?"--"I ran away from her."

XXI.

"You take things coolly, sir," said Juan. "Why,"

Replied the other, "what can a man do?

There still are many rainbows in your sky,

But mine have vanished. All, when Life is new,

Commence with feelings warm, and prospects high;

But Time strips our illusions of their hue,

And one by one in turn, some grand mistake

Casts off its bright skin yearly like the snake.

XXII.

"'T is true, it gets another bright and fresh,

Or fresher, brighter; but the year gone through,

This skin must go the way, too, of all flesh,

Or sometimes only wear a week or two;--

Love's the first net which spreads its deadly mesh;

Ambition, Avarice, Vengeance, Glory, glue

The glittering lime-twigs of our latter days,

Where still we flutter on for pence or praise."

XXIII.

"All this is very fine, and may be true,"

Said Juan; "but I really don't see how

It betters present times with me or you."

"No?" quoth the other; "yet you will allow

By setting things in their right point of view,

Knowledge, at least, is gained; for instance, now,

We know what slavery is, and our disasters

May teach us better to behave when masters."

XXIV.

"Would we were masters now, if but to try

Their present lessons on our Pagan friends here,"

Said Juan,--swallowing a heart-burning sigh:

"Heaven help the scholar, whom his fortune sends here!"

"Perhaps we shall be one day, by and by,"

Rejoined the other, "when our bad luck mends here;

Meantime (yon old black eunuch seems to eye us)

I wish to G--d that somebody would buy us.

XXV.

"But after all, what _is_ our present state?

'T is bad, and may be better--all men's lot:

Most men are slaves, none more so than the great,

To their own whims and passions, and what not;

Society itself, which should create

Kindness, destroys what little we had got:

To feel for none is the true social art

Of the world's Stoics--men without a heart."

XXVI.

Just now a black old neutral personage

Of the third sex stepped up, and peering over

The captives seemed to mark their looks and age,

And capabilities, as to discover

If they were fitted for the purposed cage:

No lady e'er is ogled by a lover,

Horse by a blackleg, broadcloth by a tailor,

Fee by a counsel, felon by a jailor,

XXVII.

As is a slave by his intended bidder.

'T is pleasant purchasing our fellow-creatures;

And all are to be sold, if you consider

Their passions, and are dext'rous; some by features

Are bought up, others by a warlike leader,

Some by a place--as tend their years or natures:

The most by ready cash--but all have prices,

From crowns to kicks, according to their vices.

XXVIII.

The eunuch, having eyed them o'er with care,

Turned to the merchant, and began to bid

First but for one, and after for the pair;

They haggled, wrangled, swore, too--so they did!

As though they were in a mere Christian fair,

Cheapening an ox, an ass, a lamb, or kid;

So that their bargain sounded like a battle

For this superior yoke of human cattle.

XXIX.

At last they settled into simple grumbling,

And pulling out reluctant purses, and

Turning each piece of silver o'er, and tumbling

Some down, and weighing others in their hand,

And by mistake sequins[276] with paras jumbling,

Until the sum was accurately scanned,

And then the merchant giving change, and signing

Receipts in full, began to think of dining.

XXX.

I wonder if his appetite was good?

Or, if it were, if also his digestion?

Methinks at meals some odd thoughts might intrude,

And Conscience ask a curious sort of question,

About the right divine how far we should

Sell flesh and blood. When dinner has oppressed one,

I think it is perhaps the gloomiest hour

Which turns up out of the sad twenty-four.

XXXI.

Voltaire says "No:" he tells you that Candide

Found life most tolerable after meals;[277]

He's wrong--unless man were a pig, indeed,

Repletion rather adds to what he feels,

Unless he's drunk, and then no doubt he's freed

From his own brain's oppression while it reels.

Of food I think with Philip's son[278] or rather

Ammon's (ill pleased with one world and one father);[ew]

XXXII.

I think with Alexander, that the act

Of eating, with another act or two,

Makes us feel our mortality in fact

Redoubled; when a roast and a ragout,

And fish, and soup, by some side dishes backed,

Can give us either pain or pleasure, who

Would pique himself on intellects, whose use

Depends so much upon the gastric juice?

XXXIII.

The other evening ('t was on Friday last)--

This is a fact, and no poetic fable--

Just as my great coat was about me cast,

My hat and gloves still lying on the table,

I heard a shot--'t was eight o'clock scarce past--

And, running out as fast as I was able,[279]

I found the military commandant

Stretched in the street, and able scarce to pant.

XXXIV.

Poor fellow! for some reason, surely bad,

They had slain him with five slugs; and left him there

To perish on the pavement: so I had

Him borne into the house and up the stair,

And stripped, and looked to[ex]----But why should I add

More circumstances? vain was every care;

The man was gone--in some Italian quarrel

Killed by five bullets from an old gun-barrel.

XXXV.

I gazed upon him, for I knew him well;

And though I have seen many corpses, never

Saw one, whom such an accident befell,

So calm; though pierced through stomach, heart, and liver,

He seemed to sleep,--for you could scarcely tell

(As he bled inwardly, no hideous river

Of gore divulged the cause) that he was dead:

So as I gazed on him, I thought or said--

XXXVI.

"Can this be Death? then what is Life or Death?

Speak!" but he spoke not: "wake!" but still he slept:--

"But yesterday and who had mightier breath?

A thousand warriors by his word were kept

In awe: he said, as the Centurion saith,

'Go,' and he goeth; 'come,' and forth he stepped.

The trump and bugle till he spake were dumb--

And now nought left him but the muffled drum."[ey]

XXXVII.

And they who waited once and worshipped--they

With their rough faces thronged about the bed

To gaze once more on the commanding clay

Which for the last, though not the first, time bled;

And such an end! that he who many a day

Had faced Napoleon's foes until they fled,--

The foremost in the charge or in the sally,

Should now be butchered in a civic alley.

XXXVIII.

The scars of his old wounds were near his new,

Those honourable scars which brought him fame;

And horrid was the contrast to the view----

But let me quit the theme; as such things claim

Perhaps even more attention than is due

From me: I gazed (as oft I have gazed the same)

To try if I could wrench aught out of Death

Which should confirm, or shake, or make a faith;

XXXIX.

But it was all a mystery. Here we are,

And there we go:--but _where_? five bits of lead,

Or three, or two, or one, send very far!

And is this blood, then, formed but to be shed?

Can every element our elements mar?

And Air--Earth--Water--Fire live--and we dead?

_We_, whose minds comprehend all things? No more;

But let us to the story as before.

XL.

The purchaser of Juan and acquaintance

Bore off his bargains to a gilded boat,

Embarked himself and them, and off they went thence

As fast as oars could pull and water float;

They looked like persons being led to sentence,

Wondering what next, till the caique[280] was brought

Up in a little creek below a wall

O'ertopped with cypresses, dark-green and tall.

XLI.

Here their conductor tapping at the wicket

Of a small iron door, 't was opened, and

He led them onward, first through a low thicket

Flanked by large groves, which towered on either hand:

They almost lost their way, and had to pick it--

For night was closing ere they came to land.

The eunuch made a sign to those on board,

Who rowed off, leaving them without a word.

XLII.

As they were plodding on their winding way

Through orange bowers, and jasmine, and so forth:

(Of which I might have a good deal to say,

There being no such profusion in the North

Of oriental plants, _et cetera_,

But that of late your scribblers think it worth

Their while to rear whole hotbeds in _their_ works,

Because _one_ poet travelled 'mongst the Turks:)[281]

XLIII.

As they were threading on their way, there came

Into Don Juan's head a thought, which he

Whispered to his companion:--'t was the same

Which might have then occurred to you or me.

"Methinks,"--said he,--"it would be no great shame

If we should strike a stroke to set us free;

Let's knock that old black fellow on the head,

And march away--'t were easier done than said."

XLIV.

"Yes," said the other, "and when done, what then?

_How_ get out? how the devil got we in?

And when we once were fairly out, and when

From Saint Bartholomew we have saved our skin,[282][ez]

To-morrow'd see us in some other den,

And worse off than we hitherto have been;

Besides, I'm hungry, and just now would take,

Like Esau, for my birthright a beef-steak.

XLV.

"We must be near some place of man's abode;--

For the old negro's confidence in creeping,

With his two captives, by so queer a road,

Shows that he thinks his friends have not been sleeping;

A single cry would bring them all abroad:

'T is better therefore looking before leaping--

And there, you see, this turn has brought us through,

By Jove, a noble palace!--lighted too."

XLVI.

It was indeed a wide extensive building

Which opened on their view, and o'er the front

There seemed to be besprent a deal of gilding

And various hues, as is the Turkish wont,--

A gaudy taste; for they are little skilled in

The arts of which these lands were once the font:

Each villa on the Bosphorus looks a screen

New painted, or a pretty opera-scene.[283]

XLVII.

And nearer as they came, a genial savour

Of certain stews, and roast-meats, and pilaus,

Things which in hungry mortals' eyes find favour,

Made Juan in his harsh intentions pause,

And put himself upon his good behaviour:

His friend, too, adding a new saving clause,

Said, "In Heaven's name let's get some supper now,

And then I'm with you, if you're for a row."

XLVIII.

Some talk of an appeal unto some passion,

Some to men's feelings, others to their reason;

The last of these was never much the fashion,

For Reason thinks all reasoning out of season:

Some speakers whine, and others lay the lash on,

But more or less continue still to tease on,

With arguments according to their "forte:"

But no one ever dreams of being short.--

XLIX.

But I digress: of all appeals,--although

I grant the power of pathos, and of gold,

Of beauty, flattery, threats, a shilling,--no

Method's more sure at moments to take hold[fa]

Of the best feelings of mankind, which grow

More tender, as we every day behold,

Than that all-softening, overpowering knell,

The Tocsin of the Soul--the dinner-bell.

L.

Turkey contains no bells, and yet men dine;

And Juan and his friend, albeit they heard

No Christian knoll to table, saw no line

Of lackeys usher to the feast prepared,

Yet smelt roast-meat, beheld a huge fire shine,

And cooks in motion with their clean arms bared,

And gazed around them to the left and right,

With the prophetic eye of appetite.

LI.

And giving up all notions of resistance,

They followed close behind their sable guide,

Who little thought that his own cracked existence

Was on the point of being set aside:

He motioned them to stop at some small distance,

And knocking at the gate, 't was opened wide,

And a magnificent large hall displayed

The Asian pomp of Ottoman parade.

LII.

I won't describe; description is my "forte,"

But every fool describes in these bright days

His wondrous journey to some foreign court,

And spawns his quarto, and demands your praise--

Death to his publisher, to him 't is sport;

While Nature, tortured twenty thousand ways,

Resigns herself with exemplary patience

To guide-books, rhymes, tours, sketches, illustrations.[284]

LIII.

Along this hall, and up and down, some, squatted

Upon their hams, were occupied at chess;

Others in monosyllable talk chatted,

And some seemed much in love with their own dress;

And divers smoked superb pipes decorated

With amber mouths of greater price or less;

And several strutted, others slept, and some

Prepared for supper with a glass of rum.[285]

LIV.

As the black eunuch entered with his brace

Of purchased Infidels, some raised their eyes

A moment, without slackening from their pace;

But those who sate ne'er stirred in any wise:

One or two stared the captives in the face,

Just as one views a horse to guess his price;

Some nodded to the negro from their station,

But no one troubled him with conversation.[286]

LV.

He leads them through the hall, and, without stopping,

On through a farther range of goodly rooms,

Splendid, but silent, save in _one_, where dropping[287]

A marble fountain echoes through the glooms

Of night which robe the chamber, or where popping

Some female head most curiously presumes

To thrust its black eyes through the door or lattice,

As wondering what the _devil_ noise that is!

LVI.

Some faint lamps gleaming from the lofty walls

Gave light enough to hint their farther way,

But not enough to show the imperial halls

In all the flashing of their full array;

Perhaps there's nothing--I'll not say appals,

But saddens more by night as well as day,

Than an enormous room without a soul[288]

To break the lifeless splendour of the whole.

LVII.

Two or three seem so little, _one_ seems nothing:

In deserts, forests, crowds, or by the shore,

_There_ Solitude, we know, has her full growth in

The spots which were her realms for evermore;

But in a mighty hall or gallery, both in

More modern buildings and those built of yore,

A kind of Death comes o'er us all alone,

Seeing what's meant for many with but one.

LVIII.

A neat, snug study on a winter's night,[fb]

A book, friend, single lady, or a glass

Of claret, sandwich, and an appetite,

Are things which make an English evening pass--

Though _certes_ by no means so grand a sight

As is a theatre lit up by gas--

_I_ pass my evenings in long galleries solely,[fc][289]

And that's the reason I'm so melancholy.

LIX.

Alas! Man makes that great which makes him little--

I grant you in a church 't is very well:

What speaks of Heaven should by no means be brittle,

But strong and lasting, till no tongue can tell

Their names who reared it; but huge houses fit ill,

And huge tombs, worse, Mankind--since Adam fell:

Methinks the story of the tower of Babel

Might teach them this much better than I'm able.

LX.

Babel was Nimrod's hunting-box, and then

A town of gardens, walls, and wealth amazing,

Where Nabuchadonosor,[290] King of men,

Reigned, till one summer's day he took to grazing,

And Daniel tamed the lions in their den,

The people's awe and admiration raising;

'T was famous, too, for Thisbe and for Pyramus,[291]

And the calumniated queen Semiramis--

LXI.

That injured Queen, by chroniclers[292] so coarse,

Has been accused (I doubt not by conspiracy)

Of an improper friendship for her horse

(Love, like Religion, sometimes runs to heresy):

This monstrous tale had probably its source

(For such exaggerations here and there I see)

In writing "Courser" by mistake for "Courier:"[fd]

I wish the case could come before a jury here.[293]

LXII.

But to resume,--should there be (what may not

Be in these days?) some infidels, who don't,

Because they can't find out the very spot

Of that same Babel, or because they won't

(Though Claudius Rich, Esquire, some bricks has got,

And written lately two memoirs upon't),[294]

Believe the Jews, those unbelievers, who

Must be believed, though they believe not you:

LXIII.

Yet let them think that Horace has expressed

Shortly and sweetly the masonic folly

Of those, forgetting the great place of rest,

Who give themselves to Architecture wholly;

We know where things and men must end at best:

A moral (like all morals) melancholy,

And "Et sepulchri immemor struis domos"

Shows that we build when we should but entomb us.

LXIV.

At last they reached a quarter most retired,

Where Echo woke as if from a long slumber;

Though full of all things which could be desired,

One wondered what to do with such a number

Of articles which nobody required;

Here Wealth had done its utmost to encumber

With furniture an exquisite apartment,

Which puzzled Nature much to know what Art meant.

LXV.

It seemed, however, but to open on

A range or suite of further chambers, which

Might lead to Heaven knows where; but in this one

The moveables were prodigally rich:

Sofas 't was half a sin to sit upon,

So costly were they; carpets every stitch

Of workmanship so rare, they made you wish

You could glide o'er them like a golden fish.

LXVI.

The black, however, without hardly deigning

A glance at that which wrapped the slaves in wonder,

Trampled what they scarce trod for fear of staining,

As if the milky way their feet was under

With all its stars; and with a stretch attaining

A certain press or cupboard niched in yonder,

In that remote recess which you may see--

Or if you don't the fault is not in me,--

LXVII.

I wish to be perspicuous--and the black,

I say, unlocking the recess, pulled forth

A quantity of clothes fit for the back

Of any Mussulman, whate'er his worth:

And of variety there was no lack--

And yet, though I have said there was no dearth,--

He chose himself to point out what he thought

Most proper for the Christians he had bought.

LXVIII.

The suit he thought most suitable to each

Was, for the elder and the stouter, first

A Candiote cloak, which to the knee might reach,

And trousers not so tight that they would burst,

But such as fit an Asiatic breech;

A shawl, whose folds in Cashmire had been nursed,

Slippers of saffron, dagger rich and handy;

In short, all things which form a Turkish Dandy.

LXIX.

While he was dressing, Baba, their black friend,

Hinted the vast advantages which they

Might probably attain both in the end,

If they would but pursue the proper way

Which Fortune plainly seemed to recommend;

And then he added, that he needs must say,

"'T would greatly tend to better their condition,

If they would condescend to circumcision.

LXX.

"For his own part, he really should rejoice

To see them true believers, but no less

Would leave his proposition to their choice."

The other, thanking him for this excess

Of goodness, in thus leaving them a voice

In such a trifle, scarcely could express

"Sufficiently" (he said) "his approbation

Of all the customs of this polished nation.

LXXI.

"For his own share--he saw but small objection

To so respectable an ancient rite;

And, after swallowing down a slight refection,

For which he owned a present appetite,

He doubted not a few hours of reflection

Would reconcile him to the business quite."

"Will it?" said Juan, sharply: "Strike me dead,

But they as soon shall circumcise my head![fe]

LXXII.

"Cut off a thousand heads, before----"--"Now, pray,"

Replied the other, "do not interrupt:

You put me out in what I had to say.

Sir!--as I said, as soon as I have supped,

I shall perpend if your proposal may

Be such as I can properly accept;

Provided always your great goodness still

Remits the matter to our own free-will."

LXXIII.

Baba eyed Juan, and said, "Be so good

As dress yourself--" and pointed out a suit

In which a Princess with great pleasure would

Array her limbs; but Juan standing mute,

As not being in a masquerading mood,

Gave it a slight kick with his Christian foot;

And when the old negro told him to "Get ready,"

Replied, "Old gentleman, I'm not a lady."

LXXIV.

"What you may be, I neither know nor care,"

Said Baba; "but pray do as I desire:

I have no more time nor many words to spare."

"At least," said Juan, "sure I may inquire

The cause of this odd travesty?"--"Forbear,"

Said Baba, "to be curious; 't will transpire,

No doubt, in proper place, and time, and season:

I have no authority to tell the reason."

LXXV.

"Then if I do," said Juan, "I'll be----"--"Hold!"

Rejoined the negro, "pray be not provoking;

This spirit's well, but it may wax too bold,

And you will find us not too fond of joking."

"What, sir!" said Juan, "shall it e'er be told

That I unsexed my dress?" But Baba, stroking

The things down, said, "Incense me, and I call

Those who will leave you of no sex at all.

LXXVI.

"I offer you a handsome suit of clothes:

A woman's, true; but then there is a cause

Why you should wear them."--"What, though my soul loathes

The effeminate garb?"--thus, after a short pause,

Sighed Juan, muttering also some slight oaths,

"What the devil shall I do with all this gauze?"

Thus he profanely termed the finest lace

Which e'er set off a marriage-morning face.

LXXVII.

And then he swore; and, sighing, on he slipped

A pair of trousers of flesh-coloured silk;[ff]

Next with a virgin zone he was equipped,

Which girt a slight chemise as white as milk;

But tugging on his petticoat, he tripped,

Which--as we say--or as the Scotch say, _whilk_,[295]

(The rhyme obliges me to this; sometimes

Monarchs are less imperative than rhymes)--[fg]

LXXVIII.

Whilk, which (or what you please), was owing to

His garment's novelty, and his being awkward:

And yet at last he managed to get through

His toilet, though no doubt a little backward:

The negro Baba helped a little too,

When some untoward part of raiment stuck hard;

And, wrestling both his arms into a gown,

He paused, and took a survey up and down.

LXXIX.

One difficulty still remained--his hair

Was hardly long enough; but Baba found

So many false long tresses all to spare,

That soon his head was most completely crowned,

After the manner then in fashion there;

And this addition with such gems was bound

As suited the _ensemble_ of his toilet,

While Baba made him comb his head and oil it.

LXXX.

And now being femininely all arrayed,

With some small aid from scissors, paint, and tweezers,

He looked in almost all respects a maid,[fh]

And Baba smilingly exclaimed, "You see, sirs,

A perfect transformation here displayed;

And now, then, you must come along with me, sirs,

That is--the Lady:" clapping his hands twice,

Four blacks were at his elbow in a trice.

LXXXI.

"You, sir," said Baba, nodding to the one,

"Will please to accompany those gentlemen

To supper; but you, worthy Christian nun,

Will follow me: no trifling, sir; for when

I say a thing, it must at once be done.

What fear you? think you this a lion's den?

Why, 't is a palace; where the truly wise

Anticipate the Prophet's paradise.

LXXXII.

"You fool! I tell you no one means you harm."

"So much the better," Juan said, "for them;

Else they shall feel the weight of this my arm,

Which is not quite so light as you may deem.

I yield thus far; but soon will break the charm,

If any take me for that which I seem:

So that I trust for every body's sake,

That this disguise may lead to no mistake."

LXXXIII.

"Blockhead! come on, and see," quoth Baba; while

Don Juan, turning to his comrade, who

Though somewhat grieved, could scarce forbear a smile

Upon the metamorphosis in view,--

"Farewell!" they mutually exclaimed: "this soil

Seems fertile in adventures strange and new;

One's turned half Mussulman, and one a maid,

By this old black enchanter's unsought aid."

LXXXIV.

"Farewell!" said Juan: "should we meet no more,

I wish you a good appetite."--"Farewell!"

Replied the other; "though it grieves me sore:

When we next meet, we'll have a tale to tell:

We needs must follow when Fate puts from shore.

Keep your good name; though Eve herself once fell."

"Nay," quoth the maid, "the Sultan's self shan't carry me,

Unless his Highness promises to marry me."

LXXXV.

And thus they parted, each by separate doors;

Baba led Juan onward, room by room,

Through glittering galleries, and o'er marble floors,

Till a gigantic portal through the gloom,

Haughty and huge, along the distance lowers;

And wafted far arose a rich perfume:

It seemed as though they came upon a shrine,

For all was vast, still, fragrant, and divine.

LXXXVI.

The giant door was broad, and bright, and high,

Of gilded bronze, and carved in curious guise;

Warriors thereon were battling furiously;

Here stalks the victor, there the vanquished lies;

There captives led in triumph droop the eye,

And in perspective many a squadron flies:

It seems the work of times before the line

Of Rome transplanted fell with Constantine.

LXXXVII.

This massy portal stood at the wide close

Of a huge hall, and on its either side

Two little dwarfs, the least you could suppose,

Were sate, like ugly imps, as if allied

In mockery to the enormous gate which rose

O'er them in almost pyramidic pride:

The gate so splendid was in all its _features_,[296]

You never thought about those little creatures,

LXXXVIII.

Until you nearly trod on them, and then

You started back in horror to survey

The wondrous hideousness of those small men,

Whose colour was not black, nor white, nor grey,

But an extraneous mixture, which no pen

Can trace, although perhaps the pencil may;

They were mis-shapen pigmies, deaf and dumb--

Monsters, who cost a no less monstrous sum.

LXXXIX.

Their duty was--for they were strong, and though

They looked so little, did strong things at times--

To ope this door, which they could really do,

The hinges being as smooth as Rogers' rhymes;

And now and then, with tough strings of the bow,

As is the custom of those Eastern climes,

To give some rebel Pacha a cravat--

For mutes are generally used for that.

XC.

They spoke by signs--that is, not spoke at all;

And looking like two Incubi, they glared

As Baba with his fingers made them fall

To heaving back the portal folds: it scared

Juan a moment, as this pair so small,

With shrinking serpent optics on him stared;[297]

It was as if their little looks could poison

Or fascinate whome'er they fixed their eyes on.

XCI.

Before they entered, Baba paused to hint

To Juan some slight lessons as his guide:

"If you could just contrive," he said, "to stint

That somewhat manly majesty of stride,

'T would be as well, and--(though there's not much in 't)

To swing a little less from side to side,

Which has at times an aspect of the oddest;--

And also could you look a little modest,

XCII.

"'T would be convenient; for these mutes have eyes

Like needles, which may pierce those petticoats;

And if they should discover your disguise,

You know how near us the deep Bosphorus floats;

And you and I may chance, ere morning rise,

To find our way to Marmora without boats,

Stitched up in sacks--a mode of navigation

A good deal practised here upon occasion."[298]

XCIII.

With this encouragement he led the way

Into a room still nobler than the last;

A rich confusion formed a disarray

In such sort, that the eye along it cast

Could hardly carry anything away,

Object on object flashed so bright and fast;

A dazzling mass of gems, and gold, and glitter,

Magnificently mingled in a litter.

XCIV.

Wealth had done wonders--taste not much; such things

Occur in Orient palaces, and even

In the more chastened domes of Western kings

(Of which I have also seen some six or seven),

Where I can't say or gold or diamond flings

Great lustre, there is much to be forgiven;

Groups of bad statues, tables, chairs, and pictures,

On which I cannot pause to make my strictures.

XCV.

In this imperial hall, at distance lay

Under a canopy, and there reclined

Quite in a confidential queenly way,

A lady; Baba stopped, and kneeling signed

To Juan, who though not much used to pray,

Knelt down by instinct, wondering in his mind

What all this meant: while Baba bowed and bended

His head, until the ceremony ended.

XCVI.

The lady rising up with such an air

As Venus rose with from the wave, on them

Bent like an antelope a Paphian pair[fi]

Of eyes, which put out each surrounding gem;

And raising up an arm as moonlight fair,

She signed to Baba, who first kissed the hem

Of her deep purple robe, and, speaking low,

Pointed to Juan who remained below.

XCVII.

Her presence was as lofty as her state;

Her beauty of that overpowering kind,

Whose force Description only would abate:

I'd rather leave it much to your own mind,

Than lessen it by what I could relate

Of forms and features; it would strike you blind

Could I do justice to the full detail;

So, luckily for both, my phrases fail.

XCVIII.

Thus much however I may add,--her years

Were ripe, they might make six-and-twenty springs,

But there are forms which Time to touch forbears,

And turns aside his scythe to vulgar things:[fj]

Such as was Mary's, Queen of Scots; true--tears

And Love destroy; and sapping Sorrow wrings

Charms from the charmer, yet some never grow

Ugly; for instance--Ninon de l'Enclos.[299]

XCIX.

She spake some words to her attendants, who

Composed a choir of girls, ten or a dozen,

And were all clad alike; like Juan, too,

Who wore their uniform, by Baba chosen:

They formed a very nymph-like looking crew,[300]

Which might have called Diana's chorus "cousin,"

As far as outward show may correspond--

I won't be bail for anything beyond.

C.

They bowed obeisance and withdrew, retiring,

But not by the same door through which came in

Baba and Juan, which last stood admiring,

At some small distance, all he saw within

This strange saloon, much fitted for inspiring

Marvel and praise; for both or none things win;

And I must say, I ne'er could see the very

Great happiness of the "Nil admirari."[301]

CI.

"Not to admire is all the art I know

(Plain truth, dear Murray, needs few flowers of speech)--

To make men happy, or to keep them so"

(So take it in the very words of Creech)--

Thus Horace wrote we all know long ago;

And thus Pope[302] quotes the precept to re-teach

From his translation; but had _none admired_,

Would Pope have sung, or Horace been inspired?[303]

CII.

Baba, when all the damsels were withdrawn,

Motioned to Juan to approach, and then

A second time desired him to kneel down,

And kiss the lady's foot; which maxim when

He heard repeated, Juan with a frown

Drew himself up to his full height again,

And said, "It grieved him, but he could not stoop

To any shoe, unless it shod the Pope."

CII.

Baba, indignant at this ill-timed pride,

Made fierce remonstrances, and then a threat

He muttered (but the last was given aside)

About a bow-string--quite in vain; not yet

Would Juan bend, though 't were to Mahomet's bride:

There's nothing in the world like _etiquette_

In kingly chambers or imperial halls,

As also at the Race and County Balls.

CIV.

He stood like Atlas, with a world of words

About his ears, and nathless would not bend;

The blood of all his line's Castilian lords

Boiled in his veins, and, rather than descend

To stain his pedigree, a thousand swords

A thousand times of him had made an end;

At length perceiving the "_foot_" could not stand,

Baba proposed that he should kiss the hand,

CV.

Here was an honourable compromise,

A half-way house of diplomatic rest,

Where they might meet in much more peaceful guise;

And Juan now his willingness expressed

To use all fit and proper courtesies,

Adding, that this was commonest and best,

For through the South, the custom still commands

The gentleman to kiss the lady's hands.

CVI.

And he advanced, though with but a bad grace,

Though on more _thorough-bred_[304] or fairer fingers

No lips e'er left their transitory trace:

On such as these the lip too fondly lingers,

And for one kiss would fain imprint a brace,

As you will see, if she you love shall bring hers

In contact; and sometimes even a fair stranger's

An almost twelvemonth's constancy endangers.

CVII.

The lady eyed him o'er and o'er, and bade

Baba retire, which he obeyed in style,

As if well used to the retreating trade;

And taking hints in good part all the while,

He whispered Juan not to be afraid,

And looking on him with a sort of smile,

Took leave, with such a face of satisfaction,

As good men wear who have done a virtuous action.

CVIII.

When he was gone, there was a sudden change:

I know not what might be the lady's thought,

But o'er her bright brow flashed a tumult strange,

And into her clear cheek the blood was brought,

Blood-red as sunset summer clouds which range

The verge of Heaven; and in her large eyes wrought,

A mixture of sensations might be scanned,

Of half voluptuousness and half command.

CIX.

Her form had all the softness of her sex,

Her features all the sweetness of the Devil,

When he put on the Cherub to perplex[305]

Eve, and paved (God knows how) the road to evil;

The Sun himself was scarce more free from specks

Than she from aught at which the eye could cavil;

Yet, somehow, there was something somewhere wanting,

As if she rather _ordered_ than was _granting_.--

CX.

Something imperial, or imperious, threw

A chain o'er all she did; that is, a chain

Was thrown as 't were about the neck of you,--

And Rapture's self will seem almost a pain

With aught which looks like despotism in view;

Our souls at least are free, and 't is in vain

We would against them make the flesh obey--

The spirit in the end will have its way.

CXI.

Her very smile was haughty, though so sweet;

Her very nod was not an inclination;

There was a self-will even in her small feet,

As though they were quite conscious of her station--

They trod as upon necks; and to complete

Her state (it is the custom of her nation),

A poniard decked her girdle, as the sign

She was a Sultan's bride (thank Heaven, not mine!).

CXII.

"To hear and to obey" had been from birth

The law of all around her; to fulfil

All phantasies which yielded joy or mirth,

Had been her slaves' chief pleasure, as her will;

Her blood was high, her beauty scarce of earth:

Judge, then, if her caprices e'er stood still;

Had she but been a Christian, I've a notion

We should have found out the "perpetual motion."

CXIII.

Whate'er she saw and coveted was brought;

Whate'er she did _not_ see, if she supposed

It might be seen, with diligence was sought,

And when 't was found straightway the bargain closed:

There was no end unto the things she bought,

Nor to the trouble which her fancies caused;

Yet even her tyranny had such a grace,

The women pardoned all except her face.[fk]

CXIV.

Juan, the latest of her whims, had caught

Her eye in passing on his way to sale;

She ordered him directly to be bought,

And Baba, who had ne'er been known to fail

In any kind of mischief to be wrought,

At all such auctions knew how to prevail:[fl]

She had no prudence, but he had--and this

Explains the garb which Juan took amiss.

CXV.

His youth and features favoured the disguise,

And should you ask how she, a Sultan's bride,

Could risk or compass such strange phantasies,

This I must leave sultanas to decide:

Emperors are only husbands in wives' eyes,

And kings and consorts oft are mystified,[fm]

As we may ascertain with due precision,

Some by experience, others by tradition.

CXVI.

But to the main point, where we have been tending:--

She now conceived all difficulties past,

And deemed herself extremely condescending

When, being made her property at last,

Without more preface, in her blue eyes blending

Passion and power, a glance on him she cast,

And merely saying, "Christian, canst thou love?"

Conceived that phrase was quite enough to move.

CXVII.

And so it was, in proper time and place;

But Juan, who had still his mind o'erflowing

With Haidée's isle and soft Ionian face,

Felt the warm blood, which in his face was glowing

Rush back upon his heart, which filled apace,

And left his cheeks as pale as snowdrops blowing:

These words went through his soul like Arab spears,[306]

So that he spoke not, but burst into tears.

CXVIII.

She was a good deal shocked; not shocked at tears,

For women shed and use them at their liking;

But there is something when man's eye appears

Wet, still more disagreeable and striking:

A woman's tear-drop melts, a man's half sears,

Like molten lead, as if you thrust a pike in

His heart to force it out, for (to be shorter)

To them 't is a relief, to us a torture.

CXIX.

And she would have consoled, but knew not how:

Having no equals, nothing which had e'er

Infected her with sympathy till now,

And never having dreamt what 't was to bear

Aught of a serious, sorrowing kind, although

There might arise some pouting petty care

To cross her brow, she wondered how so near

Her eyes another's eye could shed a tear.

CXX.

But Nature teaches more than power can spoil,[fn]

And, when a strong although a strange sensation

Moves--female hearts are such a genial soil

For kinder feelings, whatso'er their nation,

They naturally pour the "wine and oil,"

Samaritans in every situation;

And thus Gulbeyaz, though she knew not why,

Felt an odd glistening moisture in her eye.

CXXI.

But tears must stop like all things else; and soon

Juan, who for an instant had been moved

To such a sorrow by the intrusive tone

Of one who dared to ask if "he _had_ loved,"

Called back the Stoic to his eyes, which shone

Bright with the very weakness he reproved;

And although sensitive to beauty, he

Felt most indignant still at not being free.

CXXII.

Gulbeyaz, for the first time in her days,

Was much embarrassed, never having met

In all her life with aught save prayers and praise;

And as she also risked her life to get

Him whom she meant to tutor in love's ways

Into a comfortable tête-à-tête,

To lose the hour would make her quite a martyr,

And they had wasted now almost a quarter.

CXXIII.

I also would suggest the fitting time

To gentlemen in any such like case,

That is to say in a meridian clime--

With us there is more law given to the chase,

But here a small delay forms a great crime:

So recollect that the extremest grace

Is just two minutes for your declaration--

A moment more would hurt your reputation.

CXXIV.

Juan's was good; and might have been still better,

But he had got Haidée into his head:

However strange, he could not yet forget her,

Which made him seem exceedingly ill-bred.

Gulbeyaz, who looked on him as her debtor

For having had him to her palace led,

Began to blush up to the eyes, and then

Grow deadly pale, and then blush back again.

CXXV.

At length, in an imperial way, she laid

Her hand on his, and bending on him eyes

Which needed not an empire to persuade,

Looked into his for love, where none replies:

Her brow grew black, but she would not upbraid,

That being the last thing a proud woman tries;

She rose, and pausing one chaste moment threw

Herself upon his breast, and there she grew.

CXXVI.

This was an awkward test, as Juan found,

But he was steeled by Sorrow, Wrath, and Pride:

With gentle force her white arms he unwound,

And seated her all drooping by his side,

Then rising haughtily he glanced around,

And looking coldly in her face he cried,

"The prisoned eagle will not pair, nor I

Serve a Sultana's sensual phantasy.

CXXVII.

"Thou ask'st, if I can love? be this the proof

How much I _have_ loved--that I love not _thee!_

In this vile garb, the distaff, web, and woof,

Were fitter for me: Love is for the free!

I am not dazzled by this splendid roof;

Whate'er thy power, and great it seems to be,

Heads bow, knees bend, eyes watch around a throne,

And hands obey--our hearts are still our own."

CXXVIII.

This was a truth to us extremely trite;

Not so to her, who ne'er had heard such things:

She deemed her least command must yield delight,

Earth being only made for Queens and Kings.

If hearts lay on the left side or the right

She hardly knew, to such perfection brings

Legitimacy its born votaries, when

Aware of their due royal rights o'er men.

CXXIX.

Besides, as has been said, she was so fair

As even in a much humbler lot had made

A kingdom or confusion anywhere,

And also, as may be presumed, she laid

Some stress on charms, which seldom are, if e'er,

By their possessors thrown into the shade:

She thought hers gave a double "right divine;"

And half of that opinion's also mine.

CXXX.

Remember, or (if you can not) imagine,

Ye! who have kept your chastity when young,

While some more desperate dowager has been waging

Love with you, and been in the dog-days stung[fo]

By your refusal, recollect her raging!

Or recollect all that was said or sung

On such a subject; then suppose the face

Of a young downright beauty in this case!

CXXXI.

Suppose,--but you already have supposed,

The spouse of Potiphar, the Lady Booby,[307]

Phaedra,[308] and all which story has disclosed

Of good examples; pity that so few by

Poets and private tutors are exposed,[fp]

To educate--ye youth of Europe--you by!

But when you have supposed the few we know,

You can't suppose Gulbeyaz' angry brow.

CXXXII.

A tigress robbed of young, a lioness,

Or any interesting beast of prey,

Are similes at hand for the distress

Of ladies who can _not_ have their own way;

But though my turn will not be served with less,

These don't express one half what I should say:

For what is stealing young ones, few or many,

To cutting short their hope of having _any?_

CXXXIII.

The love of offspring's Nature's general law,

From tigresses and cubs to ducks and ducklings;

There's nothing whets the beak, or arms the claw

Like an invasion of their babes and sucklings;

And all who have seen a human nursery, saw

How mothers love their children's squalls and chucklings:

This strong extreme effect (to tire no longer

Your patience) shows the cause must still be stronger.[fq]

CXXXIV.

If I said fire flashed from Gulbeyaz' eyes,

'T were nothing--for her eyes flashed always fire;

Or said her cheeks assumed the deepest dyes,

I should but bring disgrace upon the dyer,

So supernatural was her passion's rise;

For ne'er till now she knew a checked desire:

Even ye who know what a checked woman is

(Enough, God knows!) would much fall short of this.

CXXXV.

Her rage was but a minute's, and 't was well--

A moment's more had slain her; but the while

It lasted 't was like a short glimpse of Hell:

Nought's more sublime than energetic bile,

Though horrible to see, yet grand to tell,

Like Ocean warring 'gainst a rocky isle;

And the deep passions flashing through her form

Made her a beautiful embodied storm.

CXXXVI.

A vulgar tempest 't were to a typhoon

To match a common fury with her rage,

And yet she did not want to reach the moon,[309]

Like moderate Hotspur on the immortal page;[fr]

Her anger pitched into a lower tune,

Perhaps the fault of her soft sex and age--

Her wish was but to "kill, kill, kill," like Lear's,[310]

And then her thirst of blood was quenched in tears.

CXXXVII.

A storm it raged, and like the storm it passed,

Passed without words--in fact she could not speak;

And then her sex's shame[311] broke in at last,

A sentiment till then in her but weak,

But now it flowed in natural and fast,

As water through an unexpected leak;

For she felt humbled--and humiliation

Is sometimes good for people in her station.

CXXXVIII.

It teaches them that they are flesh and blood,

It also gently hints to them that others,

Although of clay, are yet not quite of mud;

That urns and pipkins are but fragile brothers,

And works of the same pottery, bad or good,

Though not all born of the same sires and mothers;

It teaches--Heaven knows only what it teaches,

But sometimes it may mend, and often reaches.

CXXXIX.

Her first thought was to cut off Juan's head;

Her second, to cut only his--acquaintance;

Her third, to ask him where he had been bred;

Her fourth, to rally him into repentance;

Her fifth, to call her maids and go to bed;

Her sixth, to stab herself; her seventh, to sentence

The lash to Baba:--but her grand resource

Was to sit down again, and cry--of course.

CXL.

She thought to stab herself, but then she had

The dagger close at hand, which made it awkward;

For Eastern stays are little made to pad,

So that a poniard pierces if 't is struck hard:

She thought of killing Juan--but, poor lad!

Though he deserved it well for being so backward,

The cutting off his head was not the art

Most likely to attain her aim--his heart.

CXLI.

Juan was moved: he had made up his mind

To be impaled, or quartered as a dish

For dogs, or to be slain with pangs refined,

Or thrown to lions, or made baits for fish,

And thus heroically stood resigned,

Rather than sin--except to his own wish:

But all his great preparatives for dying

Dissolved like snow before a woman crying.

CXLII.

As through his palms Bob Acres' valour oozed,[312]

So Juan's virtue ebbed, I know not how;

And first he wondered why he had refused;

And then, if matters could be made up now;

And next his savage virtue he accused,

Just as a friar may accuse his vow,

Or as a dame repents her of her oath,

Which mostly ends in some small breach of both.

CXLIII.

So he began to stammer some excuses;

But words are not enough in such a matter,

Although you borrowed all that e'er the Muses

Have sung, or even a Dandy's dandiest chatter,

Or all the figures Castlereagh abuses;[fs]

Just as a languid smile began to flatter

His peace was making, but, before he ventured

Further, old Baba rather briskly entered.

CXLIV.

"Bride of the Sun! and Sister of the Moon!"

('T was thus he spake,) "and Empress of the Earth!

Whose frown would put the spheres all out of tune,

Whose smile makes all the planets dance with mirth,

Your slave brings tidings--he hopes not too soon--

Which your sublime attention may be worth:

The Sun himself has sent me like a ray,

To hint that he is coming up this way."

CXLV.

"Is it," exclaimed Gulbeyaz, "as you say?

I wish to heaven he would not shine till morning!

But bid my women form the milky way.

Hence, my old comet! give the stars due warning--[ft]

And, Christian! mingle with them as you may,

And as you'd have me pardon your past scorning-----"

Here they were interrupted by a humming

Sound, and then by a cry, "The Sultan's coming!"

CXLVI.

First came her damsels, a decorous file,

And then his Highness' eunuchs, black and white;

The train might reach a quarter of a mile:

His Majesty was always so polite

As to announce his visits a long while

Before he came, especially at night;

For being the last wife of the Emperor,

She was of course the favourite of the four.

CXLVII.

His Highness was a man of solemn port,

Shawled to the nose, and bearded to the eyes,

Snatched from a prison to preside at court,

His lately bowstrung brother caused his rise;

He was as good a sovereign of the sort

As any mentioned in the histories

Of Cantemir, or Knōllěs, where few shine[fu]

Save Solyman, the glory of their line.[313]

CXLVIII.

He went to mosque in state, and said his prayers

With more than "Oriental scrupulosity;"[314]

He left to his vizier all state affairs,

And showed but little royal curiosity:

I know not if he had domestic cares--

No process proved connubial animosity;

Four wives and twice five hundred maids, unseen,

Were ruled as calmly as a Christian queen.[fv]

CXLIX.

If now and then there happened a slight slip,

Little was heard of criminal or crime;

The story scarcely passed a single lip--

The sack and sea had settled all in time,

From which the secret nobody could rip:

The public knew no more than does this rhyme;

No scandals made the daily press a curse--

Morals were better, and the fish no worse.[fw]

CL.

He saw with his own eyes the moon was round,

Was also certain that the earth was square,

Because he had journeyed fifty miles, and found

No sign that it was circular anywhere;[fx]

His empire also was without a bound:

'T is true, a little troubled here and there,

By rebel pachas, and encroaching giaours,

But then they never came to "the Seven Towers;"[315]

CLI.

Except in shape of envoys, who were sent

To lodge there when a war broke out, according

To the true law of nations, which ne'er meant

Those scoundrels, who have never had a sword in

Their dirty diplomatic hands, to vent

Their spleen in making strife, and safely wording

Their lies, yclept despatches, without risk or

The singeing of a single inky whisker.

CLII.

He had fifty daughters and four dozen sons,

Of whom all such as came of age were stowed,

The former in a palace, where like nuns

They lived till some Bashaw was sent abroad,

When she, whose turn it was, was wed at once,

Sometimes at six years old[316]--though this seems odd,

'T is true; the reason is, that the Bashaw

Must make a present to his sire-in-law.

CLIII.

His sons were kept in prison, till they grew

Of years to fill a bowstring or the throne,

One or the other, but which of the two

Could yet be known unto the fates alone;

Meantime the education they went through

Was princely, as the proofs have always shown;

So that the heir apparent still was found

No less deserving to be hanged than crowned.

CLIV.

His Majesty saluted his fourth spouse

With all the ceremonies of his rank,

Who cleared her sparkling eyes and smoothed her brows,

As suits a matron who has played a prank;

These must seem doubly mindful of their vows,

To save the credit of their breaking bank:

To no men are such cordial greetings given

As those whose wives have made them fit for Heaven.[317]

CLV.

His Highness cast around his great black eyes,

And looking, as he always looked, perceived

Juan amongst the damsels in disguise,

At which he seemed no whit surprised nor grieved,

But just remarked with air sedate and wise,[fy]

While still a fluttering sigh Gulbeyaz heaved,

"I see you've bought another girl; 't is pity

That a mere Christian should be half so pretty."

CLVI.

This compliment, which drew all eyes upon

The new-bought virgin, made her blush and shake.

Her comrades, also, thought themselves undone:

Oh! Mahomet! that his Majesty should take

Such notice of a giaour, while scarce to one

Of them his lips imperial ever spake!

There was a general whisper, toss, and wriggle,

But etiquette forbade them all to giggle.

CLVII.

The Turks do well to shut--at least, sometimes--

The women up--because, in sad reality,

Their chastity in these unhappy climes[fz]

Is not a thing of that astringent quality

Which in the North prevents precocious crimes,

And makes our snow less pure than our morality;

The Sun, which yearly melts the polar ice,

Has quite the contrary effect--on vice.

CLVIII.

Thus in the East they are extremely strict,

And wedlock and a padlock mean the same:

Excepting only when the former's picked

It ne'er can be replaced in proper frame;

Spoilt, as a pipe of claret is when pricked:

But then their own polygamy's to blame;

Why don't they knead two virtuous souls for life

Into that moral centaur, man and wife?[318]

CLIX.

Thus far our chronicle; and now we pause,

Though not for want of matter; but 't is time,

According to the ancient epic laws,

To slacken sail, and anchor with our rhyme.

Let this fifth canto meet with due applause,

The sixth shall have a touch of the sublime;

Meanwhile, as Homer sometimes sleeps, perhaps

You'll pardon to my muse a few short naps.[ga]

End of Canto 5^th^ Finished Ravenna, Nov. 27^th^ 1820.

Begun Oct. 16, 1820.

and finished copying out, Dec. 26.

with some intermediate additions, 1820.

B.

FOOTNOTES:

{218}[270] [Canto V. was begun at Ravenna, October the 16th, and

finished November the 20th, 1820. It was published August 8, 1821,

together with Cantos III. and IV.]

[271] This expression of Homer has been much criticized. It hardly

answers to our Atlantic ideas of the ocean, but is sufficiently

applicable to the Hellespont, and the Bosphorus, with the Aegean

intersected with islands.

[_Vide_ _Iliad_, xiv. 245, etc. Homer's "ocean-stream" was not the

Hellespont, but the rim of waters which encircled the disk of the

world.]

{219}[272] ["The pleasure of going in a barge to Chelsea is not

comparable to that of rowing upon the canal of the sea here, where, for

twenty miles together, down the Bosphorus, the most beautiful variety of

prospects present themselves. The Asian side is covered with fruit

trees, villages, and the most delightful landscapes in nature; on the

European stands Constantinople, situated on seven hills; showing an

agreeable mixture of gardens, pine and cypress trees, palaces, mosques,

and public buildings, raised one above another, with as much beauty and

appearance of symmetry as your ladyship ever saw in a cabinet adorned by

the most skilful hands, where jars show themselves above jars, mixed

with canisters, babies, and candlesticks. This is a very odd comparison:

but it gives me an exact idea of the thing."--See letter to Mr. Pope,

No. xl. June 17, 1717, and letter to the Countess of Bristol, No. xlvi.

n.d., _Letters of the Lady Mary Worthy Montagu,_ 1816, pp. 183-219. See,

too, letter to Mrs. Byron, June 28, 1810, _Letters,_ 1890, i. 280,

note 1.]

[273] [For Byron's "Marys," see _Poetical Works,_ 1898, i. 192, note

2.]

[274] The "Giant's Grave" is a height on the Asiatic shore of the

Bosphorus, much frequented by holiday parties; like Harrow and Highgate.

["The Giant's Mountain, 650 feet high, is almost exactly opposite

Buyukdereh ... It is called by the Turks Yoshadagh, _Mountain of

Joshua,_ because the _Giant's Grave_ on the top is, according to the

Moslem legend, the grave of Joshua. The grave was formerly called the

_Couch of Hercules;_ but the classical story is that it was the tomb of

Amycus, king of the Bebryces [on his grave grew the _laurus insana_, a

branch of which caused strife (Plin., _Hist. Nat.,_ lib. xvi. cap. xliv.

ed. 1593, ii. 198)]. The grave is 20 feet long, and 5 feet broad; it is

within a stone enclosure, and is planted with flowers and

bushes."--_Handbook for Constantinople,_ p. 103.]

{220}[et]

_For then the Parca are most busy spinning_

_The fates of seamen, and the loud winds raise_.--[MS.]

{221}[eu]

_That he a man of rank and birth had been_,

_And then they calculated on his ransom_,

_And last not least--he was so very handsome_.--[MS.]

[ev]

_It chanced that near him, separately lotted_,

_From out the group of slaves put up for sale_,

_A man of middle age, and_----.--[MS.]

{222}[275] [The object of Suwarof's campaign of 1789 was the conquest of

Belgrade and Servia, that of Wallachia by the Austrians, etc. Neither of

these plans succeeded."--_The Life of Field-Marshal Suwarof,_ by L.M.P.

Tranchant de Laverne, 1814, pp. 105, 106.]

{226}[276] [The Turkish zecchino is a gold coin, worth about seven

shillings and sixpence. The para is not quite equal to an English

halfpenny.]

[277] [Candide's increased satisfaction with life is implied in the

narrative. For example, in chap, xviii., where Candide visits

Eldorado:--"Never was there a better entertainment, and never was more

wit shown at table than that which fell from His Majesty. Cacambo

explained the king's _bons mots_ to Candide, and notwithstanding they

were translated, they still appeared _bons mots._" This was after

supper. See, too, Part II. chap, ii.]

[278] See Plutarch in _Alex._, Q. Curt. _Hist. Alexand._, and Sir

Richard Clayton's "Critical Inquiry into the Life of Alexander the

Great," 1763 [from the _Examen Critique, etc._, of Guilhem de

Clermont-Lodève, Baron de Sainte Croix, 1775.]

["He used to say that sleep and the commerce with the sex were the

things that made him most sensible of his mortality, ... He was also

very temperate in eating."--Plutarch's _Alexander_, Langhorne, 1838, p.

473.]

[ew]

_But for mere food, I think with Philip's son_,

_Or Ammon's--for two fathers claimed this one_.--[MS.]

{227}[279] The assassination alluded to took place on the 8th of

December, 1820, in the streets of Ravenna, not a hundred paces from the

residence of the writer. The circumstances were as described.

["December 9, 1820. I open my letter to tell you a fact, which will show

the state of this country better than I can. The commandant of the

troops is _now_ lying _dead_ in my house. He was shot at a little past

eight o'clock, about two hundred paces from my door. I was putting on my

great coat to visit Madame la Comtessa G., when I heard the shot. On

coming into the hall, I found all my servants on the balcony, exclaiming

that a man was murdered. I immediately ran down, calling on Tita (the

bravest of them) to follow me. The rest wanted to hinder us from going,

as it is the custom for everybody here, it seems, to run away from 'the

stricken deer.' ... we found him lying on his back, almost, if not

quite, dead, with five wounds; one in the heart, two in the stomach, one

in the finger, and the other in the arm. Some soldiers cocked their

guns, and wanted to hinder me from passing. However, we passed, and I

found Diego, the adjutant, crying over him like a child--a surgeon, who

said nothing of his profession--a priest, sobbing a frightened

prayer--and the commandant, all this time, on his back, on the hard,

cold pavement, without light or assistance, or anything around him but

confusion and dismay. As nobody could, or would, do anything but howl

and pray, and as no one would stir a finger to move him, for fear of

consequences, I lost my patience--made my servant and a couple of the

mob take up the body--sent off two soldiers to the guard--despatched

Diego to the Cardinal with the news, and had him carried upstairs into

my own quarters. But it was too late--he was gone.... I had him partly

stripped--made the surgeon examine him, and examined him myself. He had

been shot by cut balls or slugs. I felt one of the slugs, which had gone

through him, all but the skin.... He only said, 'O Dio!' and 'Gesu!' two

or three times, and appeared to have suffered little. Poor fellow! he

was a brave officer; but had made himself much disliked by the

people."--Letter to Moore, December 9, 1820, _Letters,_ 1901, v. 133.

The commandant's name was Del Pinto (_Life,_ p. 472).]

[ex]

---- _so I had_

_Him borne, as soon's I could, up several pair_

_Of stairs--and looked to,----But why should I add_

_More circumstances?_----.--[MS.]

[ey] _And now as silent as an unstrung drum_.--[MS.]

{229}[280] The light and elegant wherries plying about the quays of

Constantinople are so called.

{230}[281] [_Ilderim, a Syrian Tale_, by Henry Gally Knight, was

published in 1816; _Phrosyne, a Grecian Tale_, and _Alashtar, an Arabian

Tale_, in 1817. Moore's _Lalla Kookh_ also appeared in 1817.]

[282] [St. Bartholomew was "discoriate, and flayed quick" (_Golden

Legend_, 1900, v. 43).]

[ez] _We from impalement_----.--[MS.]

{231}[283] "Many of the seraï and summer-houses [on the Bosphorus] have

received these significant, or rather fantastic names: one is the Pearl

Pavilion; another is the Star Palace; a third the Mansion of

Looking-glasses."--_Travels in Albania_, 1858, ii. 243.

{232}[fa]

_Of speeches, beauty, flattery--there is no_

_Method more sure_----.--[MS.]

{233}[284] [_Guide des Voyageurs_; _Directions for Travellers_,

etc.--_Rhymes, Incidental and Humorous_; _Rhyming Reminiscences_;

_Effusions in Rhyme_, etc.--Lady Morgan's _Tour in Italy_; _Tour through

Istria_, etc., etc.--_Sketches of Italy_; _Sketches of Modern Greece_,

etc., etc.--_Historical Illustrations of the Fourth Canto of Childe

Harold_, by J.C. Hobhouse, 1818.]

[285] In Turkey nothing is more common than for the Mussulmans to take

several glasses of strong spirits by way of appetiser. I have seen them

take as many as six of raki before dinner, and swear that they dined the

better for it: I tried the experiment, but fared like the Scotchman, who

having heard that the birds called kittiwakes were admirable whets, ate

six of them, and complained that "he was no hungrier than when he

began."

[286] ["Everything is so still [in the court of the Seraglio], that the

motion of a fly might be heard, in a manner; and if any one should

presume to raise his voice ever so little, or show the least want of

respect to the Mansion-place of their Emperor, he would instantly have

the bastinado by the officers that go the rounds."-_A Voyage in the

Levant_, by M. Tournefort, 1741, ii. 183.]

{234}[287] _A common furniture. I recollect being received by Ali Pacha,

in a large room, paved with marble, containing a marble basin, and

fountain playing in the centre, etc., etc._

[Compare Childe Harold, Canto II. stanza lxii.--

"In marble-paved pavilion, where a spring

Of living water from the centre rose,

Whose bubbling did a genial freshness fling,

And soft voluptuous couches breathed repose,

Ali reclined, a man of war and woes," etc.]

[288] [A reminiscence of Newstead. Compare Moore's song, "Oft in the

Stilly Night"--

"I feel like one

Who treads alone

Some banquet-hall deserted."]

{235}[fb]

_A small, snug chamber on a winter's night_,

_Well furnished with a book, friend, girl, or glass, etc_.--[MS.]

[fc] _I pass my days in long dull galleries solely_.--[MS. erased.]

[289] [When this stanza was written Byron was domiciled in the Palazzo

Guiccioli (in the Via di Porta Adriana) at Ravenna; but he may have had

in his mind the monks' refectory at Newstead Abbey, "the dark gallery,

where his fathers frowned" (_Lara_, Canto I. line 137), or the corridors

which form the upper story of the cloisters.]

[290] ["Nabuch_o_donosor," here used _metri gratiâ_, is Latin (see the

Vulgate) and French (see J.P. De Béranger, _Chansons Inédites_, 1828, p.

48) for Nebuchadnezzar.]

[291] [See Ovid's _Metamorphoses_, lib. iv. lines 55-58--

"In Babylon, where first her queen, for state,

Raised walls of brick magnificently great,

Lived Pyramus and Thisbe, lovely pair!

He found no Eastern youth his equal there,

And she beyond the fairest nymph was fair."

Garth.]

{236}[292] Babylon was enlarged by Nimrod, strengthened and beautified

by Nabuchadonosor, and rebuilt by Semiramis.

[Pliny (_Nat. Hist._, lib. viii. cap. xlii. ed. 1593, i. 392) cites

Juba, King of Mauretania, died A.D. 19, as his authority for the

calumny.]

[fd] _In an Erratum of her Horse for Courier_.--[MS.]

[293] [Queen Caroline--whose trial (August--November, 1820) was

proceeding whilst this canto was being written--was charged with having

committed adultery with Bartolommeo Bergami, who had been her courier,

and was, afterwards, her chamberlain.]

[294] ["_Memoir on the Ruins of Babylon_, by Claudius James Rich, Esq.,

Resident for the Honourable East India Company at the Court of the Pasha

of Bagdad, 1815," pp. 61-64: _Second Memoir on Babylon,_ ... 1818, by

Claudius James Rich. See the plates at the end of the volume.]

[fe] _If they shall not as soon cut off my head._--[MS.]

{240}[ff] _A pair of drawers_----.--[MS.]

[295] [Compare "Extracts from a Diary," January 24, 1821, _Letters_,

1901, v. 184.]

[fg] _Kings are not more imperative than rhymes_.--[MS.]

{241}[fh] _He looked almost in modesty a maid_.--[MS.]

{242}[296] _Features_ of a gate--a ministerial metaphor: "the _feature_

upon which this question _hinges_." See the "Fudge Family," or hear

Castlereagh.

[Phil. Fudge, in his letter to Lord Castlereagh, says--

"As _thou_ would'st say, my guide and teacher

In these gay metaphoric fringes,

I must _embark_ into the _feature_

On which this letter chiefly _hinges_."

Moore's note adds, "Verbatim from one of the noble Viscount's

speeches:--'_And now, sir, I must embark into the_ feature _on which

this question chiefly hinges_.'"--_Fudge Family in Paris_, Letter II.

See, too, _post_, the Preface to Cantos VI., VII., and VIII., p. 264,

note 3.]

{243}[297] [Compare--

"A snake's small eye blinks dull and sly,

And the lady's eyes they shrunk in her head,

Each shrunk up to a serpent's eye."

_Christabel_, Part II. lines 583-585.]

{244}[298] A few years ago the wile of Muchtar Pacha complained to his

father of his son's supposed infidelity: he asked with whom, and she had

the barbarity to give in a list of the twelve handsomest women in

Yanina. They were seized, fastened up in sacks, and drowned in the lake

the same night. One of the guards who was present informed me, that not

one of the victims uttered a cry, or showed a symptom of terror at so

sudden a "wrench from all we know, from all we love."

[See _The Giaour_, line _1328, Poetical Works, 1900_, iii. 144, note

1.]

{245}[fi]

_As Venus rose from Ocean--bent on them_

_With a far-reaching glance, a Paphian pair_.--[MS.]

[fj]

_But there are forms which Time adorns, not wears_,

_And to which Beauty obstinately clings_.--[MS.]

{246}[299] [Legend has credited Ninon de Lenclos (1620-1705) with lovers

when she had "come to four-score years." According to Voltaire, John

Casimir, ex-king of Poland, succumbed to her secular charms (see

_Mazeppa_, line 138, _Poetical Works_, 1901, iv. 212, note 1). "In her

old age, her house was the rendezvous of wits and men of letters.

Scarron is said to have consulted her on his romances, Saint-Evremond on

his poems, Molière on his comedies, Fontenelle on his dialogues, and La

Rochefoucauld on his maxims. Coligny, Sévigné, etc., were her lovers and

friends. At her death, in 1705, she bequeathed to Voltaire two thousand

francs, to expend in books."--_Biographic Universelle_, art. "Lenclos."]

[300] ["Her fair maids were ranged below the sofa, to the number of

twenty, and put me in mind of the pictures of the ancient nymphs. I did

not think all nature could have furnished such a scene of beauty,"

etc.--Lady M.W. Montagu to the Countess of Mar, April 18, O.S. 1717, ed.

1816, p. 163.]

[301]

["Nil admirari prope res est una, Numici,

Solaque quæ possit facere et servare beatum."

Hor., _Epist._, lib. 1, ep. vi. lines 1, 2.]

{247}[302]

["Not to admire, is all the Art I know

To make men happy, and to keep them so,

(Plain Truth, dear MURRAY, needs no flow'rs of speech,

So take it in the very words of Creech)."

_To Mr. Murray_ (Lord Mansfield), Pope's _Imitations of Horace_, Book I.

epist. vi. lines 1-4.

Thomas Creech (1659-1701) published his _Translation of Horace_ in 1684.

In the second edition, 1688, p. 487, the lines run--

"Not to admire, as most are wont to do,

It is the only method that I know,

To make Men happy and to keep 'em so."]

[303] [Johnson placed judgment and friendship above admiration and love.

"Admiration and love are like being intoxicated with champagne; judgment

and friendship like being enlivened." See Boswell's _Life of Johnson_,

1876, p. 450.]

{248}[304] There is nothing, perhaps, more distinctive of birth than the

hand. It is almost the only sign of blood which aristocracy can

generate.

{249}[305] [In old pictures of the Fall, it is a cherub who whispers

into the ear of Eve. The serpent's coils are hidden in the foliage of

the tree.]

{250}[fk] _The very women half forgave her face_.--[MS, Erased.]

[fl] _Had his instructions--where and how to deal_.--[MS.]

[fm] _And husbands now and then are mystified_.--[MS.]

{251}[306] [Narrow javelins, once known as archegays--the assegais of

Zulu warfare.]

{252}[fn]

_But nature teaches what power cannot spoil_

_And, though it was a new and strange sensation_,

_Young female hearts are such a genial soil_

_For kinder feelings, she forgot her station_.--[MS.]

[fo] _War with your heart_--.--[MS.]

{254}[307] [See _Fielding's History of the Adventures of Joseph

Andrews_, bk. i. chap. v.]

[308]

["'But if my boy with virtue be endued,

What harm will beauty do him?' Nay, what good?

Say, what avail'd, of old, to Theseus' son,

The stern resolve? what to Bellerophon?--

O, then did Phaedra redden, then her pride

Took fire to be so steadfastly denied!

Then, too, did Sthenobaea glow with shame,

And both burst forth with unextinguish'd flame!"

Gifford, _Juvenal_, Sat. x. 473-480.

The adventures of Hippolytus, the son of Theseus, and Bellerophon are

well known. They were accused of incontinence, by the women whose

inordinate passions they had refused to gratify at the expense of their

duty, and sacrificed to the fatal credulity of the husbands of the

disappointed fair ones. It is very probable that both the stories are

founded on the Scripture account of Joseph and Potiphar's

wife.--Footnote, ibid., ed. 1817, ii. pp. 49, 50.]

[fp] _The poets and romances_----.--[MS.]

[fq]

_And this strong second cause (to tire no longer_

_Your patience) shows the first must still be stronger_.

--[MS. Alternative reading.]

{256}[309]

["By Heaven! methinks, it were an easy leap,

To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon."

_Henry IV_., act i. sc. 3, lines 201, 202.]

[fr] _Like natural Shakespeare on the immortal page_.--[MS.]

[310]

["And when I have stol'n upon these sons-in law,

Then kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill."

_King Lear_, act iv. sc. 6, lines 185, 186.]

[311]

["A woman scorn'd is pitiless as fate,

For, there, the dread of shame adds stings to hate."

Gifford's _Juvenal, Sat_. x. lines 481, 482, ed. 1817, ii. p. 50.]

{258}[312] ["Yes--my valour is certainly going! it is sneaking off! I

feel it _oozing_ out, as it were, at the palms of my hands!"--Sheridan's

_Rivals_, act v. sc. 3.]

[fs] _Or all the stuff which uttered by the "Blues" is_.--[MS.]

{259}[ft]

_But prithee--get my women in the way_,

_That all the stars may gleam with due adorning_.--[MS.]

[fu] _Of Cantemir or Knollēs_-----.--[MS.]

[313] It may not be unworthy of remark, that Bacon, in his essay on

"Empire" (Essays, No. xx.), hints that Solyman was the last of his line;

on what authority, I know not. These are his words: "The destruction of

Mustapha was so fatal to Solyman's line; as the succession of the Turks

from Solyman until this day is suspected to be untrue, and of strange

blood; for that Selymus the second was thought to be supposititious."

But Bacon, in his historical authorities, is often inaccurate. I could

give half a dozen instances from his Apophthegms only.

[Selim II. (1524-1574) succeeded his father as Sultan in 1566. Hofmann

(_Lexicon Univ_.) describes him as "meticulosus, effeminatus, ebriosus,"

but neither Demetrius Cantemir, in his _History of the Growth and Decay

of the Othman Empire_ (translated by N. Tyndal, 1734); nor _The Turkish

History_ (written by Mr. Knolles, 1701), cast any doubts on his

legitimacy. Byron complained of the omission from the notes to the first

edition of Don Juan, of his corrections of Bacon's "Apophthegms" (see

_Letters_, 1901, v. Appendix VI. pp. 597-600), in a letter to Murray,

dated January 21, 1821,--_vide ibid_., p. 220.]

{260}[314] [Gibbon.]

[fv]

_Because he kept them wrapt up in his closet, he_

_Ruled fair wives and twelve hundred whores, unseen,_

_More easily than Christian kings one queen_.--[MS.]

[fw]

_Then ended many a fair Sultana's trip_:

_The Public knew no more than does this rhyme_;

_No printed scandals flew,--the fish, of course,_

_Were better--while the morals were no worse_.--[MS.]

[fx] _No sign of its depression anywhere_.--[MS.]

[315] ["We attempted to visit the Seven Towers, but were stopped at the

entrance, and informed that without a firman it was inaccessible to

strangers.... It was supposed that Count Bulukof, the Russian minister,

would be the last of the _Moussafirs_, or imperial hostages, confined in

this fortress; but since the year 1784 M. Ruffin and many of the French

have been imprisoned in the same place; and the dungeons.... were

gaping, it seems, for the sacred persons of the gentlemen composing his

Britannic Majesty's mission, previous to the rupture between Great

Britain and the Porte in 1809."--Hobhouse, _Travels in Albania_, 1858,

ii. 311, 312.]

{261}[316] ["The princess" (Asma Sultana, daughter of Achmet III.)

"complained of the barbarity which, at thirteen years of age, united her

to a decrepit old man, who, by treating her like a child, had inspired

her with nothing but disgust."--_Memoirs of Baron de Toil_, 1786, i. 74.

See, too, _Mémoires_, etc., 1784, i. 84, 85.]

{262}[317] [The connection between "horns" and Heaven, to which Byron

twice alludes, is not very obvious. The reference may be to the Biblical

"horn of salvation," or to the symbolical horns of Divine glory as

depicted in the Moses of Michel Angelo. Compare _Mazeppa_, lines 177,

178, _Poetical Works_, 1901, iv. 213.]

[fy]---- _with solemn air and wise_.--[MS.]

[fz] _Virginity in these unhappy climes_.--[MS.]

{263}[318] [This stanza, which Byron composed in bed, February 27, 1821

(see _Extracts from a Diary, Letters_, 1901, v. 209), is not in the

first edition. On discovering the omission, he wrote to Murray: "Upon

what principle have you omitted ... one of the concluding stanzas sent

as an addition?--because it ended, I suppose, with--

'And do not link two virtuous souls for life

Into that moral centaur, man and wife?'

Now, I must say, once for all, that I will not permit any human being to

take such liberties with my writings because I am absent. I desire the

omissions to be replaced (except the stanza on Semiramis)--particularly

the stanza upon the Turkish marriages."--Letter to Murray, August 31,

1821, ibid., p. 351.]

[ga]

_Meanwhile as Homer sometimes sleeps, much more_

_The modern muse may be allowed to snore_.--[MS.]

PREFACE TO CANTOS VI., VII., AND VIII.

THE details of the siege of Ismail in two of the following cantos

(_i.e._ the seventh and eighth) are taken from a French Work, entitled

_Histoire de la Nouvelle Russie._[319] Some of the incidents attributed

to Don Juan really occurred, particularly the circumstance of his saving

the infant, which was the actual case of the late Duc de Richelieu, then

a young volunteer in the Russian service, and afterward the founder and

benefactor of Odessa, where his name and memory can never cease to be

regarded with reverence.

In the course of these cantos, a stanza or two will be found relative to

the late Marquis of Londonderry,[320] but written some time before his

decease. Had that person's oligarchy died with him, they would have been

suppressed; as it is, I am aware of nothing in the manner of his death

or of his life to prevent the free expression of the opinions of all

whom his whole existence was consumed in endeavouring to enslave. That

he was an amiable man in _private_ life, may or may not be true: but

with this the public have nothing to do; and as to lamenting his death,

it will be time enough when Ireland has ceased to mourn for his birth.

As a minister, I, for one of millions, looked upon him as the most

despotic in intention, and the weakest in intellect, that ever

tyrannised over a country. It is the first time indeed since the Normans

that England has been insulted by a _minister_ (at least) who could not

speak English, and that Parliament permitted itself to be dictated to in

the language of Mrs. Malaprop.

Of the manner of his death little need be said, except that if a poor

radical, such as Waddington or Watson,[321] had cut his throat, he would

have been buried in a cross-road, with the usual appurtenances of the stake

and mallet. But the minister was an elegant lunatic--a sentimental

suicide--he merely cut the "carotid artery," (blessings on their learning!)

and lo! the pageant, and the Abbey! and "the syllables of dolour yelled

forth"[322] by the newspapers--and the harangue of the Coroner in a eulogy

over the bleeding body of the deceased--(an Anthony worthy of such a

Cæsar)--and the nauseous and atrocious cant of a degraded crew of

conspirators against all that is sincere and honourable. In his death he

was necessarily one of two things by the law[323]--a felon or a madman--and

in either case no great subject for panegyric.[324] In his life he

was--what all the world knows, and half of it will feel for years to come,

unless his death prove a "moral lesson" to the surviving Sejani[325] of

Europe. It may at least serve as some consolation to the nations, that

their oppressors are not happy, and in some instances judge so justly of

their own actions as to anticipate the sentence of mankind. Let us hear no

more of this man; and let Ireland remove the ashes of her Grattan from the

sanctuary of Westminster. Shall the patriot of humanity repose by the

Werther of politics!!!

With regard to the objections which have been made on another score to

the already published cantos of this poem, I shall content myself with

two quotations from Voltaire:--"La pudeur s'est enfuite des coeurs, et

s'est refugiée sur les lèvres." ... "Plus les moeurs sont dépravés, plus

les expressions deviennent mesurées; on croit regagner en langage ce

qu'on a perdu en vertu."

This is the real fact, as applicable to the degraded and hypocritical

mass which leavens the present English generation, and is the only

answer they deserve. The hackneyed and lavished title of

Blasphemer--which, with Radical, Liberal, Jacobin, Reformer, etc., are

the changes which the hirelings are daily ringing in the ears of those

who will listen--should be welcome to all who recollect on _whom_ it was

originally bestowed. Socrates and Jesus Christ were put to death

publicly as _blasphemers_, and so have been and may be many who dare to

oppose the most notorious abuses of the name of God and the mind of man.

But persecution is not refutation, nor even triumph: the "wretched

infidel," as he is called, is probably happier in his prison than the

proudest of his assailants. With his opinions I have nothing to do--they

may be right or wrong--but he has suffered for them, and that very

suffering for conscience' sake will make more proselytes to deism than

the example of heterodox[326] Prelates to Christianity, suicide

statesmen to oppression, or overpensioned homicides to the impious

alliance which insults the world with the name of "Holy!"[327] I have no

wish to trample on the dishonoured or the dead; but it would be well if

the adherents to the classes from whence those persons sprung should

abate a little of the cant which is the crying sin of this

double-dealing and false-speaking time of selfish spoilers, and----but

enough for the present.

FOOTNOTES:

{264}[319] [The Marquis Gabriel de Castelnau, author of an _Essai sur

L'Histoire ancienne et moderne de la Nouvelle Russie_ (Sec. Ed. 3 tom.

1827), was, at one time, resident at Odessa, where he met and made the

acquaintance of Armand Emanuel, Duc de Richelieu, who took part in the

siege of Ismail. M. Léon de Crousaz-Crétet describes him as "ancien

surintendant des théâtres sous l'Empereur Paul."--_Le Duc de Richelieu_,

1897, p. 83.]

[320] [For Robert Stewart, Viscount Castlereagh, second Marquis of

Londonderry (1769-1822), see _Letters_, 1900, iv. 108, 109, note 1.]

{266}[321] [Samuel Ferrand Waddington, born 1759, hop-grower and radical

politician, first came into notice as the chairman of public meetings in

favour of making peace with the French in 1793. He was the author,

_inter alia_, of _A Key to a Delicate Investigation_, 1812, and _An

Address to the People of the United Kingdom_, 1812. He was alive in

1822. James Watson (1766-1838), a radical agitator of the following of

Thomas Spence, was engaged, in the autumn of 1816, in an abortive

conspiracy to blow up cavalry barracks, barricade the streets, and seize

the Bank and the Tower. He was tried for high treason before Lord

Ellenborough, and acquitted.]

[322] [_Macbeth_, act iv. sc. 3, lines 7, 8.]

[323] I say by the _law_ of the _land_--the laws of humanity judge more

gently; but as the legitimates have always the law in their mouths, let

them here make the most of it.

[324] [Mr. Joseph Carttar, of Deptford, coroner for the County of Kent,

addressed the jury at some length. The following sentences are taken

from the report of the inquest, contained in _The Annual Biography and

Obituary for the year 1823_, vol. vii. p. 57: "As a public man, it is

impossible for me to weigh his character in any scales that I can hold.

In private life I believe the world will admit that a more amiable man

could not be found.... If it should unfortunately appear that there is

not sufficient evidence to prove what is generally considered the

indication of a disordered mind, I trust that the jury will pay some

attention to my humble opinion, which is, that no man can be in his

proper senses at the moment he commits so rash an act as self-murder.

...The Bible declares that a man clings to nothing so strongly as his

own life, I therefore view it as an axiom, and an abstract principle,

that a man must necessarily be out of his mind at the moment of

destroying himself." Byron, probably, read the report of the inquest in

Cobbett's _Weekly Register_ (August 17, 1822, vol. 43, pp. 389-425). The

"eulogy" was in perfectly good taste, but there can be little doubt that

if "Waddington or Watson" had cut _their_ "carotid arteries," the

verdict would have been different.]

[325] From this number must be excepted Canning. Canning is a genius,

almost a universal one, an orator, a wit, a poet, a statesman; and no

man of talent can long pursue the path of his late predecessor, Lord C.

If ever man saved his country, Canning _can_, but _will_ he? I for one,

hope so.

[The phrase, "great moral lesson," was employed by the Duke of

Wellington, _à propos_ of the restoration of pictures and statues to

their "rightful owners," in a despatch addressed to Castlereagh, under

date, Paris, September 19, 1815 (_The Dispatches, etc._ (ed. by Colonel

Gurwood), 1847, viii. 270). The words, "moral lesson," as applied to the

French generally, are to be found in Scott's _Field of Waterloo_

(conclusion, stanza vi. line 3), which was written about the same time

as the despatch. Byron quotes them in his "Ode from the French," stanza

iv. line 8 (see _Poetical Works_, 1900, iii. 434, note 1). There is a

satirical allusion to the Duke's "assumption of the didactic" about

teaching a "great moral lesson" in the Preface to the first number of

the _Liberal_ (1822, p. xi.).]

{267}[326] When Lord Sandwich said "he did not know the difference

between orthodoxy and heterodoxy," Warburton, the bishop, replied,

"Orthodoxy, my lord, is _my doxy_, and heterodoxy is _another man's_

doxy." A prelate of the present day has discovered, it seems, a _third_

kind of doxy, which has not greatly exalted in the eyes of the elect

that which Bentham calls "Church-of-Englandism."

[For the "prelate," see _Letters_, 1902, vi. 101, note 2.]

[327] [For the Duke of Wellington and the Holy Alliance, see the

Introduction to _The Age of Bronze, Poetical Works_, 1901, v. 538, 561.]

CANTO THE SIXTH.[328]

I.

"There is a tide in the affairs of men,

Which,--taken at the flood,"--you know the rest,[329]

And most of us have found it now and then:

At least we think so, though but few have guessed

The moment, till too late to come again.

But no doubt everything is for the best--

Of which the surest sign is in the end:

When things are at the worst they sometimes mend.

II.

There is a tide in the affairs of women,

Which, taken at the flood, leads--God knows where:

Those navigators must be able seamen

Whose charts lay down its currents to a hair;

Not all the reveries of Jacob Behmen[330]

With its strange whirls and eddies can compare:

Men with their heads reflect on this and that--

But women with their hearts on Heaven knows what![gb]

III.

And yet a headlong, headstrong, downright She,

Young, beautiful, and daring--who would risk

A throne--the world--the universe--to be

Beloved in her own way--and rather whisk

The stars from out the sky, than not be free[gc]

As are the billows when the breeze is brisk--

Though such a She's a devil (if there be one),

Yet she would make full many a Manichean.

IV.

Thrones, worlds, _et cetera_, are so oft upset

By commonest ambition, that when Passion

O'erthrows the same, we readily forget,

Or at the least forgive, the loving rash one.

If Anthony be well remembered yet,

'T is not his conquests keep his name in fashion,

But Actium, lost for Cleopatra's eyes,

Outbalances all Cæsar's victories.[gd]

V.

He died at fifty for a queen of forty;

I wish their years had been fifteen and twenty,[ge]

For then wealth, kingdoms, worlds are but a sport--I

Remember when, though I had no great plenty

Of worlds to lose, yet still, to pay my court, I

Gave what I had--a heart;[331] as the world went, I

Gave what was worth a world; for worlds could never

Restore me those pure feelings, gone for ever.

VI.

'T was the boy's "mite," and, like the "widow's," may

Perhaps be weighed hereafter, if not now;

But whether such things do or do not weigh,

All who have loved, or love, will still allow

Life has nought like it. God is Love, they say,

And Love's a god, or was before the brow

Of Earth was wrinkled by the sins and tears

Of--but Chronology best knows the years.

VII.

We left our hero and third heroine in

A kind of state more awkward than uncommon,

For gentlemen must sometimes risk their skin

For that sad tempter, a forbidden woman:

Sultans too much abhor this sort of sin,

And don't agree at all with the wise Roman,

Heroic, stoic Cato, the sententious,

Who lent his lady to his friend Hortensius.[332]

VIII.