The Complete Works of Lord Byron. With a biographical and critical notice by J. W. Lake

Front matter

THE COMPLETE WORKS li. LORD BYRON WITH A BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL NOTICE BY J.W. LAKE, ESQ. VOL. II. Don _5umt. PARIS dProm tjje |. rrss as H ules JDfirot Brnwv, VI. RUE DO PONT-DE-LODI. PUBLISHED BY BAUDRY, RUE DU COQ-SAINT-HONORE, AND AMYOT, RUE DE LA PAIX. 4825. CONTENTS ut THE SECOND VOLUME. Page. DON JUAN, A POEM. Canto 1 3 Notes to Canto I , 79 Canto II 81 Canto III i55 Notes to Canto III 197 Canto IV igg Notes to Canto IV 239 Canto V 341 Notes to Canto V 2g5 Preface to Cantos VI.— VII.— VIII 3oi Canto VI 307 Notes to Canto VI 34g Canto VII 35i Notes to Canto VII 38r Canto VIII 383 Notes to Canto VIII 43 r DON JUAN A POEM. *• Difficile est proprie communia dicere.» Hor. Epist. ad Pison. 1 VOL. ? DON JUAN.

Canto I

I. I want a hero : an uncommon want, When every year and month sends forth a new one, Till, after cloying the gazettes with cant, The age discovers he is not the true one; Of such as these I should not care to vaunt, I '11 therefore take our ancient friend Don Juan, We all have seen him in the pantomime Sent to the devil somewhat ere his time. II. Vernon, the butcher Cumberland, Wolfe, Hawke, Prince Ferdinand, Granby, Burgoyne, Keppel, Howe Evil and good, have had their tithe of talk, And fill'd their sign-posts then, like Wellesley now ; Each in their turn, like Banquos monarchs, stalk, Followers of fame, « nine farrow » of that sow : France, too, had Buonaparte and Dumourier, Becorded in the Moniteur and Courier. 1. Barnave, Brissot, Condorcet, Mirabeau, Petion, Clootz, Danton, Marat, La Fayette Were French, and famous people as we know ; And there were others, scarce forgotten yet, Joubert, Hoche, Marceau, Lannes, Desaix, Moreau, With many of the military set, Exceedingly remarkable at times, But not at all adapted to my rhymes.

IV. Nelson was once Britannia's god of war, And still should be so, but the tide is turn VI ; There 's no more to be said of Trafalgar, Tis with our hero quietly inurn'd ; Because the army s grown more popular, At which the naval people are concern' d ; Besides, the prince is all for the land-service, Forgetting Duncan, Nelson, Howe, and Jervis. V. Brave men were living before Agamemnon, ■ And since exceeding valorous and sage, A good deal like him too, though quite the same none, But then they shone not on the poet's page, And so have been forgotten : — I condemn none, But can't find any in the present age Fit for my poem, that is for my new one ; So, as I said, I '11 take my friend Don Juan.

CANTO I.

5 VI. Most epic poets plunge in « medias res» (Horace makes this the heroic turnpike road), And then your hero tells, whene'er you please, What went before — by way of episode, While seated after dinner at his ease, Beside his mistress in some soft abode, Palace or garden, paradise, or cavern Which serves the happy couple for a tavern. VII. That is the usual method, but not mine — My way is to begin with the beginning, The regularity of my design Forbids all wandering as the worst of sinning ; And therefore I shall open with a line (Although it cost me half an hour in spinning) Narrating somewhat of Don Juan's father, And also of his mother, if you 'd rather. VIII. In Seville was he born, a pleasant city, Famous for oranges and women — he Who has not seen it will be much to pity, So says the proverb — and I quite agree ; Of all the Spanish towns there s none more pretty, Cadiz perhaps — but that you soon may see : Don Juan's parents lived beside the river, A noble stream, and call'd the Guadalquiver.

His father's name was Jose — Don of course, A true hidalgo, free from every stain Of Moor or Hebrew blood, he traced his source Through the most gothic gendemen of Spain; A better cavalier ne'er mounted horse, Or, being mounted, e'er got down again, Than Jose, who begot our hero, who Begot — but that's to come Well, to renew ; X. His mother was a learned lady, famed For every branch of every science known — In every christian language ever named, With virtues equall'd by her wit alone; She made the cleverest people quite ashamed, And e'en the good with inward envy groan, Finding themselves so very much exceeded In their own way by all the things that she did. XI. Her memory was a mine : she knew by heart All Calderon and greater part of Lope, So that if any actor miss'd his part, She could have served him for the prompter's copy ; For her Feinagle's were a useless art, And he himself obliged to shut up shop — he Could never make a memory so fine as That which adorn'd the brain of Donna Inez.

CANTO I.

7 ;> XII. Her favourite science was the mathematical, Her noblest virtue was her magnanimity, Her wit (she sometimes tried at wit) was Attic all, Her serious sayings darken' d to sublimity ; In short, in all things she was fairly what I call A prodigy — her morning dress was dimity, Her evening silk, or, in the summer, muslin, And other stuffs, with which I wont stay puzzling. XIII. She knew the Latin — that is, « the Lord's prayer, » And Greek — the alphabet — I 'm nearly sure ; She read some French romances here and there, Although her mode of speaking was not pure ; For native Spanish she had no great care, At least her conversation was obscure ; Her thoughts were theorems, her words a problem, As if she deem'd that mystery would ennoble 'em. XIV. She liked the English and the Hebrew tongue, And said there was analogy between 'em ; She proved it somehow out of sacred song, But I must leave the proofs to those who 've seen em, But this I heard her say, and can't be wrong, And all may think which way their judgments lean 'em « Tis strange — the Hebrew noun which means 'I am', The English always use to govern d — n. •> ********* *. + **###* XVI.

In short, she was a walking calculation , Miss Edgeworth's novels stepping from their covers, Or Mrs Trimmer's books on education, Or « Cœlebs' Wife » set out in quest of lovers, Morality's prim personification, In which not envy's self a flaw discovers, To others' share let « female errors fall,» For she had not even one — the worst of all. XVII. Oh ! she was perfect past all parallel — Of any modern female saint's comparison ; So far above the cunning powers of hell, Her guardian angel had giv'n up his garrison ; Even her minutest motions went as well As those of the best time-piece made by Harrison : In virtues nothing earthly could surpass her, Save thine « incomparable oil » Macassar! '

CANTO I

9 XVIII. Perfect she was, but as perfection is Insipid in this naughty world of ours, Where our first parents never learn'd to kiss, Tdl they were exiled from their earlier bowers, WThere all was peace, and innocence, and bliss, (I wonder how they got through the twelve hours) Don Jose, like a lineal son of Eve, Went plucking various fruit without her leave. XIX. He was a mortal of the careless kind, With no great love for learning or the learn'd, Who chose to go where'er he had a mind, And never dream' d his lady was concern' d : The world, as usual, wickedly inclined To see a kingdom or a house o'erturn'd, Whisper'd he had a mistress, some said two, But for domestic quarrels one will do. XX. Now Donna Inez had, with all her merit, A great opinion of her own good qualities ; Neglect, indeed, requires a saint to bear it, And such, indeed, she was in her moralities ; But then she had a devil of a spirit, And sometimes mix'd up fancies with realities, And let few opportunities escape Of getting her liege lord into a scrape.

This was an easy matter with a man Oft in the wrong, and never on his guard ; And even the wisest, do the best they can, Have moments, hours, and days so unprepared, That you might « brain them with their lady's fan ; » And sometimes ladies hit exceeding hard, And fans turn into falchions in fair hands, And why and wherefore no one understands. XXII. Tis pity learned virgins ever wed With persons of no sort of education, Or gentlemen, who, though well born and bred, Grow tired of scientific conversation : I don't choose to say much upon this head, I 'm a plain man, and in a single station, But — oh! ye lords of ladies intellectual, Inform us truly, have they not hen-peck'd you all ? XXIII. Don Jose and his lady quarrell'd, — why Not any of the many could divine, Though several thousand people chose to try, 'Twas surely no concern of theirs or mine; I loathe that low vice curiosity, But if there 's any thing in whicli I shine, Tis in arranging all my friends' affairs, Not having of my own domestic cares.

CANTO I.

11 XXIV. And so I interfered, and with the best Intentions, but their treatment was not kind ; I think the foolish people were possess'd, For neidier of them could I ever find, Although their porter afterwards confess'd — But that 's no matter, and the worst 's behind, For little Juan o'er me threw, down stairs, A pail of housemaid's water unawares. XXV. A little curly-headed, good for-nothing, And mischief-making monkey from his birth ; His parents ne'er agreed except in doting Upon the most unquiet imp on earth ; Instead of quarrelling, had they been but both in Their senses, they 'd have sent young master forth To school, or had him soundly whipp'd at home, To teach him manners for the time to come. XXVI. Don Jose and the Donna Inez led For some time an unhappy sort of life, Wishing each other not divorced but dead ; They lived respectably as man and wife, Their conduct was exceedingly well-bred, And gave no outward signs of inward strife, Until at length the smother'd fire broke out, And put the business past all kind of doubt.

For Inez call'd some druggists and physicians, And tried to prove her loving lord was mad, But as he had some lucid intermissions, She next decided he was only bad; Yet when they ask'd her for her depositions, No sort of explanation could be had, Save that her duty both to man and God Bequired this conduct — which seem'd very odd. XXVIII. She kept a journal, where his faults were noted, And open'd certain trunks of books and letters, All which might, if occasion served, be quoted; And then she had all Seville for abettors, Besides her good old grandmother (who doted); The hearers of her case became repeaters, Then advocates, inquisitors, and judges, Some for amusement, others for old grudges. XXIX. And then this best and meekest woman bore With such serenity her husband's woes, Just as the Spartan ladies did of yore, Who saw their spouses kill'd, and nobly chose Never to say a word about them more — Calmly she heard each calumny that rose, And saw his agonies with such sublimity, That all the world exclaim'd, «What magnanimity!"

CANTO I

13 XXX. No doubt, this patience, wrhen the world is damning us, Is philosophic in our former friends; Tis also pleasant to be deem'd magnanimous, The more so in obtaining our own ends; And what the lawyers call a « mains animus," Conduct like this by no means comprehends : Bevenge in person s certainly no virtue, But then 'tis not my fault, if others hurt you. XXXI. And if our quarrels should rip up old stories, And help them with a lie or two additional ; I'm not to blame, as you well knoAv, no more is Any one else — they were become traditional ; Besides, their resurrection aids our glories By contrast, which is what we just were wishing all, And science profits by this resurrection — Dead scandal forms good subjects for dissection. XXXII. Their friends had tried at reconciliation, Then their relations, who made matters worse ; (T were hard to tell upon a like occasion To whom it may be best to have recourse — I can't say much for friend or yet relation : ) The lawyers did their utmost for divorce, But scarce a fee was paid on either side Before, unluckily, Don Jose died.

He died ; and most unluckily, because, According to all hints I could collect From counsel learned in those kind of laws, (Although their talk s obscure and circumspect) His death contrived to spoil a charming cause; A thousand pities also with respect To public feeling, which on this occasion Was manifested in a great sensation. XXXIV. But ah ! he died ; and buried with him lay The public feeling and the lawyers' fees : His house was sold, his servants sent away, A Jew took one of his two mistresses, A priest the other — at least so they say ; I ask'd the doctors after his decease, He died of the slow fever call'd the tertian, And left his widow to her own aversion. XXXV. Yet J6se was an honourable man, That I must say who knew him very well, Therefore his frailties I 11 no further scan, Indeed there were not many more to tell ; And if his passions now and then outran Discretion, and were not so peaceable As Numa's, who was also named Pompilius, He had been ill brought up, and was born bilious.

CANTO I

15 XXXVI Whate'er might be his worthlessness or worth, Poor fellow ! he had many things to wound him Let's own, since it can do no harm on earth ; It was a trying moment that which found him Standing alone beside his desolate hearth, Where all his household gods lay shiver'd round him ; No choice was left his feelings or his pride, Save death or Doctors' Commons — so he died. XXXVII. Dying intestate, Juan was sole heir To a chancery suit, and messuages, and lands, Which, with a long minority and care, Promised to turn out well in proper hands : Inez became sole guardian, which was fair, And answer'd but to nature's just demands ; An only son left with'an only mother Is brought up much more wisely than another. XXXVIII. Sagest of women, even of widows, she Besolved that Juan should be quite a paragon, And worthy of the noblest pedigree (His sire was of Castile, his dam from Arragon).

Then for accomplishments of chivalry, In case our lord the king should go to war again, He learn'd the arts of riding, fencing, gunnery, And how to scale a fortress — or a nunnery. But that which Donna Inez most desired, And saw into herself each day before all The learned tutors whom for him she hired, Was, that his breeding should be strictly moral ; Much into all his studies she inquired, And so they were submitted first to her all ; Arts, sciences, no branch was made a mystery To Juan's eyes, except natural history. XL. The languages, especially the dead; The sciences, and most of allth' abstruse; The arts, at least all such as could be said To be the most remote from common use, In all these he was much and deeply read; But not a page of any thing that 's loose, Or hints continuation of the species, Was ever suffer 'd, lest he should grow vicious.

XLI. His classic studies made a little puzzle, Because of filthy loves of gods and goddesses, Who in the earlier ages raised a bustle, But never put on pantaloons or boddices ; His reverend tutors had at times a tussle, And for their Æneids, Iliads, and Odysseys, WTere forced to make an odd sort of an apology, For Donna Inez dreaded the mythology.

CANTO I

17 XLII. Ovid s a rake, as half his verses show him, Anacreon's morals are a still worse sample, Catullus scarcely has a decent poem, I don't think Sappho's Ode a good example, Although3 Longinus tells us there is no hymn Where the sublime soars forth on wings more ample; But Virgd's songs are pure, except that horrid one Beginning with Formosum Pastor Corydon. XLIII. Lucretius' irreligion is too strong For early stomachs, to prove wholesome food ; I can't help thinking Juvenal was wrong, Although no doubt his real intent was good, For speaking out so plainly in his song, So much indeed as to be downright rude ; And then what proper person can be partial To all those nauseous epigrams of Martial ? XLIV. Juan was taught from out the best edition, Expurgated by learned men, who place, Judiciously, from out the school-boy's vision, The grosser parts'; but fearful to deface Too much their modest bard by this omission, And pitying sore his mutilated case, They only add them all in an appendix, 4 Which saves, in fact, the trouble of an index; VOL. II.

For there we have them all « at one fell swoop, » Instead of being scatter'd through the pages ; They stand forth marshall'd in a handsome troop, To meet th' ingenuous youth of future ages, Till some less rigid editor shall stoop To call them back into their separate cages, Instead of standing staring altogether, Like garden gods — and not so decent either. XLVI. The missal too, it was the family missal, Was ornamented in a sort of way Which ancient mass-books often are, and this all Rinds of grotesques illumined ; and how they, Who saw those figures on the margin kiss all, Could turn their optics to the text and pray Is more than I know — but Don Juan's mother Kept this herself, and gave her son another. XLVII. Sermons he read, and lectures he endured, And homilies, and lives of all the saints; To Jerome and to Chrysostom inured, He did not take such studies for restraints ; But how faith is acquired, and then insured, So well not one of the aforesaid paints As Saint Augustine in his fine Confessions, WThich make the reader envy his transgressions.

CANTO I.

19 XL VIII. This, too, was a seal'd book to little Juan — I can't but say that his mamma was right, If such an education was the true one : She scarcely trusted him from out her sight ; Her maids were old, and if she took a new one You might be sure she was a perfect fright, She did this during even her husband's life — I recommend as much to every wife. XL1X. Young Juan wax'd in goodliness and grace ; At six a charming child, and at eleven With all the promise of as fine a face As e'er to man's maturer growth was given ; He studied steadily, and grew apace, And seem'd, at least, in the right road to heaven, For half his days were pass'd at church, the other Between his tutors, confessor, and mother. L. At six, I said, he was a charming child, At twelve he was a sine but quiet boy ; Although in infancy a little wild, They tamed him down amongst them ; to destroy His natural spirit not in vain they toil'd, At least it seem'd so ; and his mother's joy Was to declare how sage, and still, and steady, Her young philosopher was grown already. 2.

LI. I had my doubts, perhaps I have them still, But what I say is neither here nor there : I knew his father well, and have some skill In character — but it would not be fair, From sire to son to augur good or ill : He and his wife were an ill-sorted pair — But scandal 's my aversion — I protest Against all evil speaking, even in jest. LII. For my part I say nothing — nothing — but This I will say — my reasons are my own — That if I had an only son to put To school (as God be praised that I have none), 'Tis not with Donna Inez I would shut Him up to learn his catechism alone ; No — no — I d send him out betimes to college, For there it was I pick'd up my own knowledge LIII. For there one learns — t is not for me to boast, Though I acquired — but I pass over that, As well as all the Greek I since have lost : I say that there 's the place — but Verbum sat.

I think I pick'd up too, as well as most, Knowledge of matters — but no matter what, — I never married — but, I think, I know That sons should not be educated so.

CANTO I.

21 LIV. Young Juan now was sixteen years of age, Tall, handsome, slender, but well knit ; he seem'd Active, diough not so sprightly as a page; And every body but his modier deem'd Him almost man ; but she flew in a rage, And bit her lips (for else she might have scream'd) If any said so ; for to be precocious Was in her eyes a thing the most atrocious. LV. Amongst her numerous acquaintance, all Selected for discretion and devotion, There was the Donna Julia, whom to call Pretty were but to give a feeble notion Of many charms in her, as natural As sweetness to the flower, or salt to ocean, Her zone to Venus, or his bow to Cupid ; But this last simile is trite and stupid. LVI. The darkness of her oriental eye Accorded with her Moorish origin ; (Her blood was not all Spanish, by the bye, In Spain, you know, this is a sort of sin. ) When proud Grenada fell, and, forced to fly, Boabdil wept, of Donna Julia's kin Some went to Africa, some staid in Spain, Her great great grandmamma chose to remain. '> LVII.

She married (I forget the pedigree) With an hidalgo, who transmitted down His blood less noble than such blood should be ; At such alliances his sires would frown, In that point so precise in each degree, That they bred in and in, as might be shown, Marrying their cousins — nay, their aunts and nieces Which always spoils the breed, if it increases. LVIII. This heathenish cross restored the breed again, Buin'd its blood, but much improved its flesh ; For, from a root the ugliest in Old Spain Sprung up a branch as beautiful as fresh ; The sons no more were short, the daughters plain : But there's a rumour which I fain would hush,!] 'Tis said that Donna Julia's grandmamma Produced her Don more heirs at love than law. LIX. However this might be, the race went on Improving still through every generation, Until it centred in an only son, Who left an only daughter ; my narration May have suggested that this single one Could be but Julia (whom on this occasion I shall have much to speak about), and she Was married, charming, chaste, and twenty-three.

CANTO I.

23 LX. Her eye (I'm very fond of handsome eyes) Was large and dark, suppressing half its fire Until she spoke, then through its soft disguise Flash'd an expression more of pride than ire, And love than either ; and there would arise A something in them which was not desire, But would have been, perhaps, but for the soul Which struggled through and chasten'd down the whole LXI. Her glossy hair was cluster'd o'er a brow Bright with intelligence, and fair and smooth; Her eyebrow's shape was like the aerial bow, Her cheek all purple with the beam of youth, Mounting, at times, to a transparent glow, As if her veins ran lightning; she, in sooth, Possess'd an air and grace by no means common ; Her stature tall — I hate a dumpy woman. LXII. Wedded she was some years, and to a man Of fifty, and such husbands are in plenty; And yet, I think, instead of such a one, 'T were better to have two of five and twenty, Especially in countries near the sun : And now I think on 't « mi vien in mente,» Ladies even of the most uneasy virtue Prefer a spouse whose age is short of thirty. 'T is a sad thing, I cannot choose but say, And all the fault of that indecent sun, Who cannot leave alone our helpless clay, But will keep baking, broiling, burning on, That howsoever people fast and pray The flesh is frail, and so the soul undone : What men call gallantry, and gods adultery, Is much more common where the climate s sultry.

LXIV. Happy the nations of the moral north ! WThere all is virtue, and the winter season Sends sin, without a rag on, shivering forth ! ('T was snow that brought Saint Anthony to reason ;) Where juries cast up what a wife is worth, By laying whate'er sum, in mulct, they please on The lover, who must pay a handsome price, Because it is a marketable vice. LXV. Alfonso was the name of Julia's lord, A man well-looking for his years, and who Was neither much beloved nor yet abhorr'd ; They lived together as most people do, Suffering each other's foibles by accord, And not exactly either one or two; Yet he was jealous, though he did not show it, For jealousy dislikes the world to know it.

CANTO I.

25 LXVI Julia was — yet I never could see why — With Donna Inez quite a favourite friend ; Between their tastes there was small sympathy, For not a line had Julia ever penn'd : Some people whisper (but, no doubt, they lie, For malice still imputes some private end ) That Inez had, ere Don Alfonso's marriage, Forgot with him her very prudent carriage ; LXVII. And that still keeping up the old connection, Which time had lately render'd much more chaste, She took his lady also in affection, And certainly this course was much the best : She flatter'd Julia with her sage protection, And complimented Don Alfonso's taste ; And if she could not (who can ?) sdence scandal, At least she left it a more slender handle. LXVIII. I can't tell whether Julia saw the affair With other people's eyes, or if her own Discoveries made, but none could be aware Of this, at least no symptom e'er was shown ; Perhaps she did not know, or did not care.

Indifferent from the first, or callous grown : I 'm really puzzled what to think or say, She kept her counsel in so close a way. Juan she saw, and, as a pretty child, Caress'd him often, such a thing might be Quite innocently done, and harmless styled, WThen she had twenty years, and thirteen he ; But I am not so sure I should have smiled When he was sixteen, Julia twenty-three ; These few short years make wondrous alterations, Particularly amongst sun-burnt nations. LXX. WThate'er the cause might be, they had become Changed ; for the dame grew distant, the youth shy, Their looks cast down, their greetings almost dumb, And much embarrassment in either eye ; There surely will be little doubt with some That Donna Julia knew the reason why, But as for Juan, he had no more notion Than he who never saw the sea or ocean.

LXXI. Yet Julia's very coldness still was kind, And tremulously gentle her small hand Withdrew itself from his, but left behind A little pressure, thrilling, and so bland And slight, so very slight, that to the mind 'T was but a doubt ; but ne'er magician's wand Wrought change, with all Armida's fairy art, Like what this light touch left on Juan's heart.

CANTO I.

27 ? LXXII. And if she met him, though she smiled no more, She look'd a sadness sweeter than her smile, As if her heart had deeper thoughts in store She must not own, but cherish'd more the while, For that compression in its burning core ; Even innocence itself has many a wile, And will not dare to trust itself with truth, And love is taught hypocrisy from youth. LXXIII. But passion most dissembles yet betrays Even by its darkness ; as the blackest sky Foretells the heaviest tempest, it displays Its workings through the vainly guarded eye, And in whatever aspect it arrays Istelf, 't is still the same hypocrisy ; Coldness or anger, e'en disdain or hate, Are masks it often wears, and still too late. LXXIV. Then there were sighs, the deeper for suppression, And stolen glances, sweeter for the theft, And burning blushes, though for no transgression, Tremblings when met, and restlessness when left All these are little preludes to possession, Of which young passion cannot be bereft, And merely tend to show how greatly love is Embarass'd at first starting with a novice.

Poor Julia's heart was in an awkward state ; She felt it going, and resolved to make The noblest efforts for herself and mate, For honour's, pride's, religion's, virtue's sake ; Her resolutions were most truly great, And almost might have made a Tarquin quake ; She pray'd the Virgin Mary for her grace, As being the best judge of a lady's case. LXXVI. She vow'd she never would see Juan more, And next day paid a visit to his mother, And look'd extremely at the opening door, Which, by the Virgin's grace, let in another ; Grateful she was, and yet a little sore — Again it opens, it can be no other, 'Tis surely Juan now — No ! — I 'm afraid That night the Virgin was no further pray'd LXXVII. She now determined that a virtuous woman Should rather face and overcome temptation, That flight was base and dastardly, and no man Should ever give her heart the least sensation ; That is to say, a thought beyond the common Preference, that we must feel upon occasion, For people who are pleasanter than others, But then they only seem so many brothers.