The Works of Lord Byron. Vol. 6 (part 2 of 3)

The Works of Lord Byron. Vol. 6 (part 2 of 3)

The damsels, who had thoughts of some great harm, Began, as is the consequence of fear, To scold a little at the false alarm That broke for nothing on their sleeping ear. The matron, too, was wroth to leave her warm Bed for the dream she had been obliged to hear, And chafed at poor Dudù, who only sighed, And said, that she was sorry she had cried.

LXXX.

"I've heard of stories of a cock and bull; But visions of an apple and a bee, To take us from our natural rest, and pull The whole Oda from their beds at half-past three, Would make us think the moon is at its full. You surely are unwell, child! we must see, To-morrow, what his Highness's physician Will say to this hysteric of a vision.

LXXXI.

"And poor Juanna, too, the child's first night Within these walls, to be broke in upon With such a clamour--I had thought it right That the young stranger should not lie alone, And, as the quietest of all, she might With you, Dudù, a good night's rest have known: But now I must transfer her to the charge Of Lolah--though her couch is not so large."

LXXXII.

Lolah's eyes sparkled at the proposition; But poor Dudù, with large drops in her own, Resulting from the scolding or the vision, Implored that present pardon might be shown For this first fault, and that on no condition (She added in a soft and piteous tone) Juanna should be taken from her, and Her future dreams should be all kept in hand.

LXXXIII.

She promised never more to have a dream, At least to dream so loudly as just now; She wondered at herself how she could scream-- 'T was foolish, nervous, as she must allow, A fond hallucination, and a theme For laughter--but she felt her spirits low, And begged they would excuse her; she'd get over This weakness in a few hours, and recover.

LXXXIV.

And here Juanna kindly interposed, And said she felt herself extremely well Where she then was, as her sound sleep disclosed, When all around rang like a tocsin bell; She did not find herself the least disposed To quit her gentle partner, and to dwell Apart from one who had no sin to show, Save that of dreaming once "mal-à-propos."

LXXXV.

As thus Juanna spoke, Dudù turned round And hid her face within Juanna's breast: Her neck alone was seen, but that was found The colour of a budding rose's crest.[hc] I can't tell why she blushed, nor can expound The mystery of this rupture of their test; All that I know is, that the facts I state Are true as Truth has ever been of late,

LXXXVI.

And so good night to them,--or, if you will, Good morrow--for the cock had crown, and light Began to clothe each Asiatic hill, And the mosque crescent struggled into sight Of the long caravan, which in the chill Of dewy dawn wound slowly round each height That stretches to the stony belt, which girds Asia, where Kaff looks down upon the Kurds.[356]

LXXXVII.

With the first ray, or rather grey of morn, Gulbeyaz rose from restlessness; and pale As Passion rises, with its bosom worn, Arrayed herself with mantle, gem, and veil. The Nightingale that sings with the deep thorn, Which fable places in her breast of wail, Is lighter far of heart and voice than those Whose headlong passions form their proper woes.

LXXXVIII.

And that's the moral of this composition, If people would but see its real drift;-- But that they will not do without suspicion, Because all gentle readers have the gift Of closing 'gainst the light their orbs of vision: While gentle writers also love to lift Their voices 'gainst each other, which is natural, The numbers are too great for them to flatter all.

LXXXIX.

Rose the Sultana from a bed of splendour, Softer than the soft Sybarite's, who cried[357] Aloud because his feelings were too tender To brook a ruffled rose-leaf by his side,-- So beautiful that Art could little mend her, Though pale with conflicts between Love and Pride;-- So agitated was she with her error, She did not even look into the mirror.

XC.

Also arose about the self-same time, Perhaps a little later, her great Lord, Master of thirty kingdoms so sublime, And of a wife by whom he was abhorred; A thing of much less import in that clime-- At least to those of incomes which afford The filling up their whole connubial cargo-- Than where two wives are under an embargo.

XCI.

He did not think much on the matter, nor Indeed on any other: as a man He liked to have a handsome paramour At hand, as one may like to have a fan, And therefore of Circassians had good store, As an amusement after the Divan; Though an unusual fit of love, or duty, Had made him lately bask in his bride's beauty.

XCII.

And now he rose; and after due ablutions Exacted by the customs of the East, And prayers and other pious evolutions, He drank six cups of coffee at the least, And then withdrew to hear about the Russians, Whose victories had recently increased In Catherine's reign, whom Glory still adores, As greatest of all sovereigns and w----s.

XCIII.

But oh, thou grand legitimate Alexander![hd][358] Her son's son, let not this last phrase offend Thine ear, if it should reach--and now rhymes wander Almost as far as Petersburgh, and lend A dreadful impulse to each loud meander Of murmuring Liberty's wide waves, which blend Their roar even with the Baltic's--so you be Your father's son, 't is quite enough for me.

XCIV.

To call men love-begotten, or proclaim[he] Their mothers as the antipodes of Timon, That hater of Mankind, would be a shame, A libel, or whate'er you please to rhyme on: But people's ancestors are History's game;[hf] And if one Lady's slip could leave a crime on All generations, I should like to know What pedigree the best would have to show?[359]

XCV.

Had Catherine and the Sultan understood Their own true interests, which Kings rarely know, Until 't is taught by lessons rather rude, There was a way to end their strife, although Perhaps precarious, had they but thought good, Without the aid of Prince or Plenipo: She to dismiss her guards and he his Harem, And for their other matters, meet and share 'em.

XCVI.

But as it was, his Highness had to hold His daily council upon ways and means How to encounter with this martial scold, This modern Amazon and Queen of queans; And the perplexity could not be told Of all the pillars of the State, which leans Sometimes a little heavy on the backs Of those who cannot lay on a new tax.

XCVII.

Meantime Gulbeyaz when her King was gone, Retired into her boudoir, a sweet place For love or breakfast; private, pleasing, lone, And rich with all contrivances which grace Those gay recesses:--many a precious stone Sparkled along its roof, and many a vase Of porcelain held in the fettered flowers, Those captive soothers of a captive's hours.

XCVIII.

Mother of pearl, and porphyry, and marble, Vied with each other on this costly spot; And singing birds without were heard to warble; And the stained glass which lighted this fair grot Varied each ray;--but all descriptions garble The true effect,[360] and so we had better not Be too minute; an outline is the best,-- A lively reader's fancy does the rest.

XCIX.

And here she summoned Baba, and required Don Juan at his hands, and information Of what had passed since all the slaves retired, And whether he had occupied their station: If matters had been managed as desired, And his disguise with due consideration Kept up; and above all, the where and how He had passed the night, was what she wished to know.

C.

Baba, with some embarrassment, replied To this long catechism of questions, asked More easily than answered,--that he had tried His best to obey in what he had been tasked; But there seemed something that he wished to hide, Which Hesitation more betrayed than masked; He scratched his ear, the infallible resource To which embarrassed people have recourse.

CI.

Gulbeyaz was no model of true patience, Nor much disposed to wait in word or deed; She liked quick answers in all conversations; And when she saw him stumbling like a steed In his replies, she puzzled him for fresh ones; And as his speech grew still more broken-kneed, Her cheek began to flush, her eyes to sparkle, And her proud brow's blue veins to swell and darkle.

CII.

When Baba saw these symptoms, which he knew To bode him no great good, he deprecated Her anger, and beseeched she'd hear him through-- He could not help the thing which he related: Then out it came at length, that to Dudù Juan was given in charge, as hath been stated; But not by Baba's fault, he said, and swore on The holy camel's hump, besides the Koran.

CIII.

The chief dame of the Oda,[361] upon whom The discipline of the whole Harem bore, As soon as they re-entered their own room, For Baba's function stopped short at the door, Had settled all; nor could he then presume (The aforesaid Baba) just then to do more, Without exciting such suspicion as Might make the matter still worse than it was.

CIV.

He hoped, indeed he thought, he could be sure, Juan had not betrayed himself; in fact 'T was certain that his conduct had been pure, Because a foolish or imprudent act Would not alone have made him insecure, But ended in his being found out and sacked, And thrown into the sea.--Thus Baba spoke Of all save Dudù's dream, which was no joke.

CV.

This he discreetly kept in the back ground, And talked away--and might have talked till now, For any further answer that he found, So deep an anguish wrung Gulbeyaz' brow: Her cheek turned ashes, ears rung, brain whirled round, As if she had received a sudden blow, And the heart's dew of pain sprang fast and chilly O'er her fair front, like Morning's on a lily.

CVI.

Although she was not of the fainting sort, Baba thought she would faint, but there he erred-- It was but a convulsion, which though short Can never be described; we all have heard,[hg] And some of us have felt thus "all amort"[362] When things beyond the common have occurred;-- Gulbeyaz proved in that brief agony What she could ne'er express--then how should I?

CVII.

She stood a moment as a Pythoness Stands on her tripod, agonized, and full Of inspiration gathered from distress, When all the heart-strings like wild horses pull The heart asunder;--then, as more or less Their speed abated or their strength grew dull, She sunk down on her seat by slow degrees, And bowed her throbbing head o'er trembling knees.

CVIII.

Her face declined and was unseen; her hair Fell in long tresses like the weeping willow, Sweeping the marble underneath her chair, Or rather sofa (for it was all pillow, A low, soft ottoman), and black Despair Stirred up and down her bosom like a billow, Which rushes to some shore whose shingles check Its farther course, but must receive its wreck.

CIX.

Her head hung down, and her long hair in stooping Concealed her features better than a veil; And one hand o'er the ottoman lay drooping, White, waxen, and as alabaster pale: Would that I were a painter! to be grouping All that a poet drags into detail! Oh that my words were colours! but their tints May serve perhaps as outlines or slight hints.

CX.

Baba, who knew by experience when to talk And when to hold his tongue, now held it till This passion might blow o'er, nor dared to balk Gulbeyaz' taciturn or speaking will. At length she rose up, and began to walk Slowly along the room, but silent still, And her brow cleared, but not her troubled eye; The wind was down, but still the sea ran high.

CXI.

She stopped, and raised her head to speak--but paused And then moved on again with rapid pace; Then slackened it, which is the march most caused By deep emotion:--you may sometimes trace A feeling in each footstep, as disclosed By Sallust in his Catiline, who, chased By all the demons of all passions, showed Their work even by the way in which he trode[363].

CXII.

Gulbeyaz stopped and beckoned Baba:--"Slave! Bring the two slaves!" she said in a low tone, But one which Baba did not like to brave, And yet he shuddered, and seemed rather prone To prove reluctant, and begged leave to crave (Though he well knew the meaning) to be shown What slaves her Highness wished to indicate, For fear of any error, like the late.

CXIII.

"The Georgian and her paramour," replied The Imperial Bride--and added, "Let the boat Be ready by the secret portal's side: You know the rest." The words stuck in her throat, Despite her injured love and fiery pride; And of this Baba willingly took note, And begged by every hair of Mahomet's beard, She would revoke the order he had heard.

CXIV.

"To hear is to obey," he said; "but still, Sultana, think upon the consequence: It is not that I shall not all fulfil Your orders, even in their severest sense; But such precipitation may end ill, Even at your own imperative expense: I do not mean destruction and exposure, In case of any premature disclosure;

CXV.

"But your own feelings. Even should all the rest Be hidden by the rolling waves, which hide Already many a once love-beaten breast Deep in the caverns of the deadly tide-- You love this boyish, new, Seraglio guest, And if this violent remedy be tried-- Excuse my freedom, when I here assure you, That killing him is not the way to cure you."

CXVI.

"What dost thou know of Love or feeling?--Wretch! Begone!" she cried, with kindling eyes--"and do My bidding!" Baba vanished, for to stretch His own remonstrance further he well knew Might end in acting as his own "Jack Ketch;" And though he wished extremely to get through This awkward business without harm to others, He still preferred his own neck to another's.

CXVII.

Away he went then upon his commission, Growling and grumbling in good Turkish phrase Against all women of whate'er condition, Especially Sultanas and their ways; Their obstinacy, pride, and indecision, Their never knowing their own mind two days, The trouble that they gave, their immorality, Which made him daily bless his own neutrality.

CXVIII.

And then he called his brethren to his aid, And sent one on a summons to the pair, That they must instantly be well arrayed, And above all be combed even to a hair, And brought before the Empress, who had made Inquiries after them with kindest care: At which Dudù looked strange, and Juan silly; But go they must at once, and will I--nill I.

CXIX.

And here I leave them at their preparation For the imperial presence, wherein whether Gulbeyaz showed them both commiseration, Or got rid of the parties altogether, Like other angry ladies of her nation,-- Are things the turning of a hair or feather May settle; but far be 't from me to anticipate In what way feminine caprice may dissipate.

CXX.

I leave them for the present with good wishes, Though doubts of their well doing, to arrange Another part of History; for the dishes Of this our banquet we must sometimes change; And trusting Juan may escape the fishes, (Although his situation now seems strange, And scarce secure),--as such digressions are fair, The Muse will take a little touch at warfare.

End of Canto 6th.

FOOTNOTES:

{268}[328] [Two MSS. (A, B) are extant, A in Byron's handwriting, B a transcription by Mrs. Shelley. The variants are marked respectively MS. A., MS. B.

Motto: "Thinkest thou that because thou art virtuous there shall be no more cakes and ale? Aye! and ginger shall be hot in the mouth too."--Twelfth Night, or What You Will, Shakespeare, act ii. sc. 3, lines 109-112.--[MS. B.]

This motto, in an amended form, which was prefixed to the First Canto in 1833, appears on the title-page of the first edition of Cantos VI., VII., VIII., published by John Hunt in 1823.]

[329] [See Shakespeare, Julius Cæsar, act iv. sc. 3, lines 216, 217.]

[330] [Jacob Behmen (or Boehm) stands for "mystic." Byron twice compares him with Wordsworth (see Letters, 1899, iii. 239, 1900, iv. 238).]

{269}[gb] Man with his head reflects (as Spurzheim tells), But Woman with the heart--or something else. or, Man's pensive part is (now and then) the head, Woman's the heart or anything instead.-- [MS. A. Alternative reading.]

[gc] Like to a Comet's tail----.--[MS. A. erased.]

[gd] O'erbalance all the Cæsar's victories.--[MS. A.] Outbalance all the Cæsar's victories.--[MS. B.]

In the Shelley copy "o'erbalance" has been erased and "outbalance" inserted in Byron's handwriting. The lines must have been intended to run thus--

'T is not his conquests keep his name in fashion But Actium lost; for Cleopatra's eyes Outbalance all the Cæsar's victories.

[ge] I wish that they had been eighteen----.--[MS. A. erased.]

{270}[331] [To Mary Chaworth. Compare "Our union would have healed feuds ... it would have joined lands broad and rich; it would have joined at least one heart."--Detached Thoughts, 1821, Letters, 1901, v. 441.]

[332] [Cato gave up his wife Martia to his friend Hortensius; but, on the death of the latter, took her back again. This conduct was censured by Cæsar, who observed that Cato had an eye to the main chance. "It was the wealth of Hortensius. He lent the young man his wife, that he might make her a rich widow."--Langhorne's Plutarch, 1838, pp. 539, 547.]

{271}[333] [Othello, act i. sc. i, lines 19-24.]

[gf]---- though with greater latitude.--[MS. A.]

{272}[gg] ---- with one foolish woman wed.--[MS. B.]

[334] [The famous bed, measuring twelve feet square, to which an allusion is made by Shakespeare in Twelfth Night, act iii. sc. 2, line 44, was formerly preserved at the Saracen's Head at Ware, in Hertfordshire. The bed was removed from Ware to the Rye House in 1869.]

[gh] His Highness the sublimest of mankind, The greatest, wisest, bravest, [and the] best, Proved by his edicts somewhat blind, Who saw his virtues as they saw the rest-- His Highness quite connubially inclined Had deigned that night to be Gulbeyaz' guest.--[MS. A.]

[335] See Waverley [chap. xx.]

[gi] May look like what I need not mention here--[MS. A.]

{273}[gj] Are better signs if such things can be signed.--[MS. A.]

[336] [For St. Francis of Assisi, and the "seven great balls of snow," of which "the greatest" was "his wife," see The Golden Legend, 1900, v. 221, vide ante, p. 32, note 1.]

[337] [The words medio, etc., are to be found in Ovid., Metam., lib. ii. line 137; the doctrine, Virtus est medium vitiorum, in Horace, Epist., lib. i, ep. xviii. line 9.]

[gk] In the damned line ('t is worth, at least, a curse) Which I have examined too close.--[MS. erased.]

{274}[gl] Self-love that whetstone of Don Cupid's art.--[MS. A.]

[gm]---- with love despairs.--[MS. A. erased.]

[338] [Lady Noel's will was proved February 22, 1812. She left to the trustees a portrait of Byron ... with directions that it was not to be shown to his daughter Ada till she attained the age of twenty-one; but that if her mother was still living, it was not to be so delivered without Lady Byron's consent.--Letters, 1901, vi. 42, note 1.]

[gn] Which diddles you----.--[MS. A. erased.]

[go] I'm a philosopher; G--d damn them all.--[MS. B.]

[gp] Bills, women, wives, dogs, horses and mankind.--[MS. B. erased.]

{275}[gq] Is more than I know, and, so, damn them both.--[MS. A. erased.]

[gr] When we lie down--wife, spouse, or bachelor By what we love not, to sigh for the light.--[MS. A. erased.]

[gs] By their infernal bedfellow----.--[MS. A. erased.]

[339] [The comparison of Queen Caroline to snow may be traced to an article in the Times of August 23, 1820: "The Queen may now, we believe, be considered as triumphing! For the first three years at least of her Majesty's painful peregrinations, she stands before her husband's admiring subjects 'as white as unsunned snows.'" Political bards and lampoonists of the king's party thanked the Times for "giving them that word."]

{276}[340] [According to Gronow (Reminiscences, 1889, i. 62), a practical joke of Dan Mackinnon's (vide ante, p. 69, footnote) gave Byron a hint for this scene in the harem: "Lord Wellington was curious about visiting a convent near Lisbon, and the lady abbess made no difficulty. Mackinnon hearing this contrived to get clandestinely within the sacred walls ... at all events, when Lord Wellington arrived Dan Mackinnon was to be seen among the nuns, dressed out in their sacred costume, with his whiskers shaved; and, as he possessed good features, he was declared to be one of the best-looking among those chaste dames. It was supposed that this adventure, which was known to Lord Byron, suggested a similar episode in Don Juan."]

[341] [Caligula--vide Suetonius, De XII. Cæs., C. Cæs. Calig., cap, xxx., "Infensus turbæ faventi adversus studium exclamavit: 'Utinam populus Romanus unam cervicem haberet!'"]

[gt] My wish were general but no worse.--[MS. A. erased.]

[gu] That Womankind had only one--say heart.--[MS. A. erased.]

{277}[342] The ladies of the Seraglio.

[343] [Demetrius Cantemir, hospodar of Moldavia. His work, the History of the Growth and Decay of the Othman Empire, was translated into English by N. Tyndal, 1734. He died in 1723.]

[344] [Baron de Tott, in his Memoirs concerning the State of the Turkish Empire (1786, i. 72), gives the title of this functionary as Kiaya Kadun, i.e. Mistress or Governess of the Ladies.]

{278}[345] [The repetition of the same rhyme-word was noted in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, July, 1823, vol. xiv. p. 90.]

{279}[346]

["I guess, 't was frightful there to see A lady so richly clad as she-- Beautiful exceedingly." Christabel, Part I. lines 66-68.]

[347] "It is in the adjacent climates of Georgia, Mingrelia, and Circassia, that nature has placed, at least to our eyes, the model of beauty, in the shape of the limbs, the colour of the skin, the symmetry of the features, and the expression of the countenance: the men are formed for action, the women for love."--Gibbon, [Decline and Fall, etc., 1825, iii 126.]

{280}[348] Padisha is the Turkish title of the Grand Signior.

[349] [Katinka was the name of the youngest sister of Theresa, the "Maid of Athens."--See letter to H. Drury, May 3, 1810, Letters, 1898, i. 269, note 1; and Poetical Works, 1900, iii. 15, note 1.

It is probable that the originals of Katinka and Dudù were two Circassians who were presented for sale to Nicolas Ernest Kleeman (see his Voyage de Vienne, etc., 1780, pp. 142, 143) at Kaffa, in the Crimea. Of the first he writes, "Elle me baisa la main, et par l'ordre de son maître, elle se promena en long et en large, pour me faire remarquer sa taille mince et aisée. Elle avoit un joli petit pied.... Quand elle a en ôté son voile elle a présenté à mes yeux une beauté très-attrayante; ses cheveux étoient blonds argentés; elle avoit de grands yeux bleux, le nez un peu long, et les lèvres appétissantes. Sa figure étoit régulière, son teint blanc, délicat, les joues couvertes d'un charmant vermilion.... La seconde étoit un peu petite, assez grasse, et avoit les cheveux roux, l'air sensuel et revenant." Kleeman pretended to offer terms, took notes, and retired. But the Circassians are before us still.]

{281}[350] [Macbeth, act ii. sc. 2, line 36.]

{284}[gv] By which no doubt its Baptism came to pass.--[MS. A. erased.]

[gw] The Devil in Hell might melt but never settle.--[MS. A. erased.]

[351] [Hence the title of the satire, The Age of Bronze.]

[gx] For Woman's silence startles more than thunder.--[MS. A. erased.]

{287}[352] [Compare Beppo, stanza xxii. line 2, Poetical Works, 1901, iv. 166, note 1.]

[gy] With no less true and feminine surprise.--[MS. A. erased.]

{289}[353] [Julius Cæsar, act iii. sc. II, line 216.]

[354]

["Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita Mi ritrovai per una selva oscura," etc.

Inferno, Canto I, lines I, 2.]

[gz] Himself in an age when men grow good, As Life's best half is done----.--[MS. A. erased.]

[ha] But out of reach--a most provoking sight.--[MS. A. erased.]

[hb] That ere her unreluctant lips could ope.--[MS. A.]

{290}[355] [One of the advocates employed for Queen Caroline in the House of Lords spoke of some of the most puzzling passages in the history of her intercourse with Bergami, as amounting to "odd instances of strange coincidence."--Ed. 1833, xvi. 160.]

{291}[hc] At least as red as the Flamingo's breast.--[MS. A. erased.]

{292}[356] [Byron used Kaff for Caucasus, vide ante, English Bards, etc., line 1022, Poetical Works, 1898, i. 378, note 3. But there may be some allusion to the fabulous Kaff, "anciently imagined by the Asiatics to surround the world, to bind the horizon on all sides." There was a proverb "From Kaf to Kaf," i.e. "the wide world through." See, too, D'Herbelot's Bibliothèque Orientale, 1697, art. "Caf."]

[357] [See L.A. Seneca, De Irâ, lib. ii. cap. 25.]

{294}[hd] Oh thou her lawful grandson Alexander Let not this quality offend----.--[MS. A. erased.]

[358] [Compare The Age of Bronze, lines 434, sq., Poetical Works, 1901, v. 563, note 1.]

{294}[he] To call a man a whoreson----.--[MS. A. erased.]

[hf] But a man's grandmother is deemed fair game.--[MS. A.]

[359] [It is probable that Byron knew that there was a "hint of illegitimacy" in his own pedigree. John Byron of Clayton, grandfather of Richard the second Lord Byron, was born, out of wedlock, to Elizabeth, daughter of William Costerden, of Blakesley, in Lancashire, widow to George Halgh of Halgh (sic), and second wife of Sir John Byron of Clayton, "little Sir John with the great beard." He succeeded to Newstead and the Lancashire estates, not as heir-at-law, but by deed of gift. (See letter to Murray, October 20, 1820, Letters, 1901, v. 99, note 2.)]

{295}[360] [Aubry de la Motraye, in describing the interior of the Grand Signior's palace, into which he gained admission as the assistant of a watchmaker who was employed to regulate the clocks, says that the eunuch who received them at the entrance of the harem, conducted them into a hall: "Cette salle est incrustee de porcelaines fines; et le lambris doré et azuré qui orne le fond d'une coupole qui regne au-dessus, est des plus riches.... Une fontaine artificielle et jaillissante, dont le bassin est d'un prétieux marbre verd qui m'a paru serpentin ou jaspe, s'élevoit directement au milieu, sous le dôme.... Je me trouvai la tête si pleine de Sophas de prétieux plafonds, de meubles superbes, en un mot, d'une si grande confusion de matériaux magnifiques, ... qu'il seroit difficile d'en donner une idée claire."--Voyages, 1727, i. 220, 222.]

{296}[361] ["Il n'ya point de Religieuses ... point de novices, plus soumises à la volonté de leur abbesse que ces filles [les Odaliques] le sont à leurs maitresses."--A. de la Motraye, Voyages, 1727, i. 338.]

{297}[hg] ---- though seen not heard For it is silent.--[MS. A. erased.]

[362] ["How fares my Kate? What! sweeting, all amort?"--Taming of the Shrew, act iv. sc. 3, line 36. "Amort" is said to be a corruption of à la mort. Byron must have had in mind his silent ecstasy of grief when the Countess Guiccioli endeavoured to break the announcement of Allegra's death (April, 1822). "'I understand,' said he; 'it is enough; say no more.' A mortal paleness spread itself over his face, his strength failed him, and he sunk into a seat. His look was fixed, and the expression such that I began to fear for his reason; he did not shed a tear" (Life, p. 368).]

{299}[363] ["His guilty soul, at enmity with gods and men, could find no rest; so violently was his mind torn and distracted by a consciousness of guilt. Accordingly his countenance was pale, his eyes ghastly, his pace one while quick, another slow [citus modo, modo tardus incessus]; indeed, in all his looks there was an air of distraction."--Sallust, Catilina, cap. xv. sf.]

CANTO THE SEVENTH.[364]

I.

O LOVE! O Glory! what are ye who fly Around us ever, rarely to alight? There's not a meteor in the polar sky Of such transcendent and more fleeting flight. Chill, and chained to cold earth, we lift on high Our eyes in search of either lovely light; A thousand and a thousand colours they Assume, then leave us on our freezing way.

II.

And such as they are, such my present tale is, A nondescript and ever-varying rhyme, A versified Aurora Borealis, Which flashes o'er a waste and icy clime. When we know what all are, we must bewail us, But ne'ertheless I hope it is no crime To laugh at all things--for I wish to know What, after all, are all things--but a show?

III.

They accuse me--Me--the present writer of The present poem--of--I know not what-- A tendency to under-rate and scoff At human power and virtue, and all that;[365] And this they say in language rather rough. Good God! I wonder what they would be at! I say no more than hath been said in Danté's Verse, and by Solomon and by Cervantes;

IV.

By Swift, by Machiavel, by Rochefoucault, By Fénélon, by Luther, and by Plato;[hh] By Tillotson, and Wesley, and Rousseau, Who knew this life was not worth a potato. 'T is not their fault, nor mine, if this be so,-- For my part, I pretend not to be Cato, Nor even Diogenes.--We live and die, But which is best, you know no more than I.

V.

Socrates said, our only knowledge was[366] "To know that nothing could be known;" a pleasant Science enough, which levels to an ass Each man of wisdom, future, past, or present. Newton (that proverb of the mind), alas! Declared, with all his grand discoveries recent, That he himself felt only "like a youth Picking up shells by the great ocean--Truth."[hi][367]

VI.

Ecclesiastes said, "that all is vanity"-- Most modern preachers say the same, or show it By their examples of true Christianity: In short, all know, or very soon may know it; And in this scene of all-confessed inanity, By Saint, by Sage, by Preacher, and by Poet, Must I restrain me, through the fear of strife, From holding up the nothingness of Life?[hj]

VII.

Dogs, or men!--for I flatter you[368] in saying That ye are dogs--your betters far--ye may Read, or read not, what I am now essaying To show ye what ye are in every way. As little as the moon stops for the baying Of wolves, will the bright Muse withdraw one ray From out her skies--then howl your idle wrath! While she still silvers o'er your gloomy path.

VIII.

"Fierce loves and faithless wars"--I am not sure If this be the right reading--'t is no matter; The fact's about the same, I am secure; I sing them both, and am about to batter A town which did a famous siege endure, And was beleaguered both by land and water By Souvaroff,[369] or Anglicè Suwarrow, Who loved blood as an alderman loves marrow.

IX.

The fortress is called Ismail, and is placed Upon the Danube's left branch and left bank,[370] With buildings in the Oriental taste, But still a fortress of the foremost rank, Or was at least, unless 't is since defaced, Which with your conquerors is a common prank: It stands some eighty versts from the high sea, And measures round of toises thousands three.[371]

X.

Within the extent of this fortification A borough is comprised along the height Upon the left, which from its loftier station Commands the city, and upon its site A Greek had raised around this elevation A quantity of palisades upright, So placed as to impede the fire of those Who held the place, and to assist the foe's.[372]

XI.

This circumstance may serve to give a notion Of the high talents of this new Vauban: But the town ditch below was deep as Ocean, The rampart higher than you'd wish to hang: But then there was a great want of precaution (Prithee, excuse this engineering slang), Nor work advanced, nor covered way was there,[373] To hint, at least, "Here is no thoroughfare."

XII.

But a stone bastion, with a narrow gorge, And walls as thick as most skulls born as yet; Two batteries, cap-à-pie, as our St. George, Casemated[374] one, and t' other "a barbette,"[375] Of Danube's bank took formidable charge; While two-and-twenty cannon duly set Rose over the town's right side, in bristling tier, Forty feet high, upon a cavalier.[376]

XIII.

But from the river the town's open quite, Because the Turks could never be persuaded A Russian vessel e'er would heave in sight;[377] And such their creed was till they were invaded, When it grew rather late to set things right: But as the Danube could not well be waded, They looked upon the Muscovite flotilla, And only shouted, "Allah!" and "Bis Millah!"

XIV.

The Russians now were ready to attack; But oh, ye goddesses of War and Glory! How shall I spell the name of each Cossacque Who were immortal, could one tell their story? Alas! what to their memory can lack? Achilles' self was not more grim and gory Than thousands of this new and polished nation, Whose names want nothing but--pronunciation.

XV.

Still I'll record a few, if but to increase Our euphony: there was Strongenoff, and Strokonoff, Meknop, Serge Lwow, Arséniew of modern Greece, And Tschitsshakoff, and Roguenoff, and Chokenoff,[378] And others of twelve consonants apiece; And more might be found out, if I could poke enough Into gazettes; but Fame (capricious strumpet), It seems, has got an ear as well as trumpet,

XVI.

And cannot tune those discords of narration,[hk] Which may be names at Moscow, into rhyme; Yet there were several worth commemoration, As e'er was virgin of a nuptial chime; Soft words, too, fitted for the peroration Of Londonderry drawling against time, Ending in "ischskin," "ousckin," "iffskchy," "ouski," Of whom we can insert but Rousamouski,[379]

XVII.

Scherematoff and Chrematoff, Koklophti, Koclobski, Kourakin, and Mouskin Pouskin, All proper men of weapons, as e'er scoffed high[380] Against a foe, or ran a sabre through skin: Little cared they for Mahomet or Mufti, Unless to make their kettle-drums a new skin Out of their hides, if parchment had grown dear, And no more handy substitute been near.

XVIII.

Then there were foreigners of much renown, Of various nations, and all volunteers; Not fighting for their country or its crown, But wishing to be one day brigadiers; Also to have the sacking of a town;-- A pleasant thing to young men at their years. 'Mongst them were several Englishmen of pith, Sixteen called Thomson, and nineteen named Smith.

XIX.

Jack Thomson and Bill Thomson;--all the rest Had been called "Jemmy," after the great bard; I don't know whether they had arms or crest, But such a godfather's as good a card. Three of the Smiths were Peters; but the best Amongst them all, hard blows to inflict or ward, Was he, since so renowned "in country quarters At Halifax;"[381] but now he served the Tartars.

XX.

The rest were Jacks and Gills and Wills and Bills, But when I've added that the elder Jack Smith Was born in Cumberland among the hills, And that his father was an honest blacksmith, I've said all I know of a name that fills Three lines of the despatch in taking "Schmacksmith," A village of Moldavia's waste, wherein He fell, immortal in a bulletin.

XXI.

I wonder (although Mars no doubt's a god I Praise) if a man's name in a bulletin May make up for a bullet in his body? I hope this little question is no sin, Because, though I am but a simple noddy, I think one Shakespeare puts the same thought in The mouth of some one in his plays so doting, Which many people pass for wits by quoting.[382]

XXII.

Then there were Frenchmen, gallant, young, and gay; But I'm too great a patriot to record Their Gallic names upon a glorious day; I'd rather tell ten lies than say a word Of truth;--such truths are treason; they betray Their country; and as traitors are abhorred, Who name the French in English, save to show How Peace should make John Bull the Frenchman's foe.

XXIII.

The Russians, having built two batteries on An isle near Ismail, had two ends in view; The first was to bombard it, and knock down The public buildings and the private too, No matter what poor souls might be undone:[hl] The city's shape suggested this, 't is true, Formed like an amphitheatre--each dwelling Presented a fine mark to throw a shell in.[383]

XXIV.

The second object was to profit by The moment of the general consternation, To attack the Turk's flotilla, which lay nigh Extremely tranquil, anchored at its station: But a third motive was as probably To frighten them into capitulation;[384] A phantasy which sometimes seizes warriors, Unless they are game as bull-dogs and fox-terriers.[hm]

XXV.

A habit rather blameable, which is That of despising those we combat with, Common in many cases, was in this The cause[385] of killing Tchitchitzkoff and Smith-- One of the valorous "Smiths" whom we shall miss Out of those nineteen who late rhymed to "pith;" But 't is a name so spread o'er "Sir" and "Madam," That one would think the first who bore it "Adam."

XXVI.

The Russian batteries were incomplete, Because they were constructed in a hurry;[386] Thus the same cause which makes a verse want feet, And throws a cloud o'er Longman and John Murray, When the sale of new books is not so fleet As they who print them think is necessary, May likewise put off for a time what story Sometimes calls "Murder," and at others "Glory."

XXVII.

Whether it was their engineer's stupidity, Their haste or waste, I neither know nor care, Or some contractor's personal cupidity, Saving his soul by cheating in the ware Of homicide, but there was no solidity In the new batteries erected there; They either missed, or they were never missed, And added greatly to the missing list.

XXVIII.

A sad miscalculation about distance Made all their naval matters incorrect; Three fireships lost their amiable existence Before they reached a spot to take effect; The match was lit too soon, and no assistance Could remedy this lubberly defect; They blew up in the middle of the river, While, though 't was dawn, the Turks slept fast as ever.[387]

XXIX.

At seven they rose, however, and surveyed The Russ flotilla getting under way; 'T was nine, when still advancing undismayed, Within a cable's length their vessels lay Off Ismail, and commenced a cannonade, Which was returned with interest, I may say, And by a fire of musketry and grape, And shells and shot of every size and shape.[388]

XXX.

For six hours bore they without intermission The Turkish fire, and, aided by their own Land batteries, worked their guns with great precision; At length they found mere cannonade alone By no means would produce the town's submission, And made a signal to retreat at one. One bark blew up, a second near the works Running aground, was taken by the Turks.[389]

XXXI.

The Moslem, too, had lost both ships and men; But when they saw the enemy retire, Their Delhis[390] manned some boats, and sailed again, And galled the Russians with a heavy fire, And tried to make a landing on the main; But here the effect fell short of their desire: Count Damas drove them back into the water Pell-mell, and with a whole gazette of slaughter.[391]

XXXII.

"If" (says the historian here) "I could report All that the Russians did upon this day, I think that several volumes would fall short, And I should still have many things to say;"[392] And so he says no more--but pays his court To some distinguished strangers in that fray; The Prince de Ligne, and Langeron, and Damas, Names great as any that the roll of Fame has.[393]

XXXIII.

This being the case, may show us what Fame is: For out of these three "preux Chevaliers," how Many of common readers give a guess That such existed? (and they may live now For aught we know.) Renown's all hit or miss; There's fortune even in Fame, we must allow. 'T is true, the Memoirs of the Prince de Ligne[394] Have half withdrawn from him Oblivion's screen.

XXXIV.

But here are men who fought in gallant actions As gallantly as ever heroes fought, But buried in the heap of such transactions Their names are rarely found, nor often sought. Thus even good fame may suffer sad contractions, And is extinguished sooner than she ought: Of all our modern battles, I will bet You can't repeat nine names from each Gazette.

XXXV.

In short, this last attack, though rich in glory, Showed that somewhere, somehow, there was a fault, And Admiral Ribas[395] (known in Russian story) Most strongly recommended an assault; In which he was opposed by young and hoary, Which made a long debate; but I must halt, For if I wrote down every warrior's speech, I doubt few readers e'er would mount the breach.

XXXVI.

There was a man, if that he was a man, Not that his manhood could be called in question, For had he not been Hercules, his span Had been as short in youth as indigestion Made his last illness, when, all worn and wan, He died beneath a tree, as much unblest on The soil of the green province he had wasted, As e'er was locust on the land it blasted.

XXXVII.

This was Potemkin[396]--a great thing in days When homicide and harlotry made great; If stars and titles could entail long praise, His glory might half equal his estate. This fellow, being six foot high, could raise A kind of phantasy proportionate In the then Sovereign of the Russian people, Who measured men as you would do a steeple.

XXXVIII.

While things were in abeyance, Ribas sent A courier to the Prince, and he succeeded In ordering matters after his own bent; I cannot tell the way in which he pleaded, But shortly he had cause to be content. In the mean time, the batteries proceeded, And fourscore cannon on the Danube's border Were briskly fired and answered in due order.[397]

XXXIX.

But on the thirteenth, when already part Of the troops were embarked, the siege to raise, A courier on the spur inspired new heart Into all panters for newspaper praise,[hn] As well as dilettanti in War's art, By his despatches (couched in pithy phrase) Announcing the appointment of that lover of Battles to the command, Field-Marshal Souvaroff.[398]

XL.

The letter of the Prince to the same Marshal Was worthy of a Spartan, had the cause Been one to which a good heart could be partial-- Defence of freedom, country, or of laws; But as it was mere lust of Power to o'er-arch all With its proud brow, it merits slight applause, Save for its style, which said, all in a trice, "You will take Ismail at whatever price."[399]

XLI.

"Let there be Light! said God, and there was Light!" "Let there be Blood!" says man, and there's a sea! The fiat of this spoiled child of the Night (For Day ne'er saw his merits) could decree More evil in an hour, than thirty bright Summers could renovate, though they should be Lovely as those which ripened Eden's fruit; For War cuts up not only branch, but root.

XLII.

Our friends, the Turks, who with loud "Allahs" now Began to signalise the Russ retreat,[400] Were damnably mistaken; few are slow In thinking that their enemy is beat,[401] (Or beaten, if you insist on grammar, though I never think about it in a heat,) But here I say the Turks were much mistaken, Who hating hogs, yet wished to save their bacon.

XLIII.

For, on the sixteenth, at full gallop, drew In sight two horsemen, who were deemed Cossacques For some time, till they came in nearer view: They had but little baggage at their backs, For there were but three shirts between the two; But on they rode upon two Ukraine hacks, Till, in approaching, were at length descried In this plain pair, Suwarrow and his guide.[402]

XLIV.

"Great joy to London now!" says some great fool, When London had a grand illumination, Which to that bottle-conjuror, John Bull, Is of all dreams the first hallucination; So that the streets of coloured lamps are full, That sage (said John) surrenders at discretion[ho] His purse, his soul, his sense, and even his nonsense, To gratify, like a huge moth, this one sense.

XLV.

'T is strange that he should further "Damn his eyes," For they are damned; that once all-famous oath Is to the Devil now no further prize, Since John has lately lost the use of both. Debt he calls Wealth, and taxes Paradise; And Famine, with her gaunt and bony growth, Which stare him in the face, he won't examine, Or swears that Ceres hath begotten Famine.

XLVI.

But to the tale;--great joy unto the camp! To Russian, Tartar, English, French, Cossacque, O'er whom Suwarrow shone like a gas lamp, Presaging a most luminous attack; Or like a wisp along the marsh so damp, Which leads beholders on a boggy walk, He flitted to and fro a dancing light, Which all who saw it followed, wrong or right.

XLVII.

But, certes, matters took a different face; There was enthusiasm and much applause, The fleet and camp saluted with great grace, And all presaged good fortune to their cause. Within a cannot-shot length of the place They drew, constructed ladders, repaired flaws In former works, made new, prepared fascines, And all kinds of benevolent machines.

XLVIII.

'T is thus the spirit of a single mind Makes that of multitudes take one direction, As roll the waters to the breathing wind, Or roams the herd beneath the bull's protection; Or as a little dog will lead the blind, Or a bell-wether form the flock's connection By tinkling sounds, when they go forth to victual; Such is the sway of your great men o'er little.

XLIX.

The whole camp rung with joy; you would have thought That they were going to a marriage feast (This metaphor, I think, holds good as aught, Since there is discord after both at least): There was not now a luggage boy but sought Danger and spoil with ardour much increased; And why? because a little--odd--old man, Stripped to his shirt, was come to lead the van.

L.

But so it was; and every preparation Was made with all alacrity: the first Detachment of three columns took its station, And waited but the signal's voice to burst Upon the foe: the second's ordination Was also in three columns, with a thirst For Glory gaping o'er a sea of Slaughter: The third, in columns two, attacked by water.[403]

LI.

New batteries were erected, and was held A general council, in which Unanimity, That stranger to most councils, here prevailed,[404] As sometimes happens in a great extremity;[hp] And every difficulty being dispelled, Glory began to dawn with due sublimity,[hq] While Souvaroff, determined to obtain it, Was teaching his recruits to use the bayonet.[405]

LII.

It is an actual fact, that he, commander In chief, in proper person deigned to drill The awkward squad, and could afford to squander His time, a corporal's duty to fulfil; Just as you'd break a sucking salamander To swallow flame, and never take it ill:[hr] He showed them how to mount a ladder (which Was not like Jacob's) or to cross a ditch.[406]

LIII.

Also he dressed up, for the nonce, fascines Like men with turbans, scimitars, and dirks, And made them charge with bayonet these machines, By way of lesson against actual Turks;[407] And when well practised in these mimic scenes, He judged them proper to assail the works,-- (At which your wise men sneered in phrases witty),[hs] He made no answer--but he took the city.

LIV.

Most things were in this posture on the eve Of the assault, and all the camp was in A stern repose; which you would scarce conceive; Yet men resolved to dash through thick and thin Are very silent when they once believe That all is settled:--there was little din, For some were thinking of their home and friends, And others of themselves and latter ends.[ht]

LV.

Suwarrow chiefly was on the alert, Surveying, drilling, ordering, jesting, pondering; For the man was, we safely may assert, A thing to wonder at beyond most wondering; Hero, buffoon, half-demon, and half-dirt, Praying, instructing, desolating, plundering--Now Mars, now Momus--and when bent to storm A fortress, Harlequin in uniform.[408]

LVI.

The day before the assault, while upon drill-- For this great conqueror played the corporal-- Some Cossacques, hovering like hawks round a hill, Had met a party towards the Twilight's fall, One of whom spoke their tongue--or well or ill, 'T was much that he was understood at all; But whether from his voice, or speech, or manner, They found that he had fought beneath their banner.

LVII.

Whereon immediately at his request They brought him and his comrades to head-quarters; Their dress was Moslem, but you might have guessed That these were merely masquerading Tartars, And that beneath each Turkish-fashioned vest Lurked Christianity--which sometimes barters Her inward grace for outward show, and makes It difficult to shun some strange mistakes.

LVIII.

Suwarrow, who was standing in his shirt Before a company of Calmucks, drilling, Exclaiming, fooling, swearing at the inert, And lecturing on the noble art of killing,-- For deeming human clay but common dirt This great philosopher was thus instilling His maxims,[409] which to martial comprehension Proved death in battle equal to a pension;--

LIX.

Suwarrow, when he saw this company Of Cossacques and their prey, turned round and cast Upon them his slow brow and piercing eye:-- "Whence come ye?"--"From Constantinople last, Captives just now escaped," was the reply. "What are ye?"--"What you see us." Briefly passed This dialogue; for he who answered knew To whom he spoke, and made his words but few.

LX.

"Your names?"--"Mine's Johnson, and my comrade's Juan; The other two are women, and the third Is neither man nor woman." The Chief threw on The party a slight glance, then said, "I have heard Your name before, the second is a new one: To bring the other three here was absurd: But let that pass:--I think I have heard your name In the Nikolaiew regiment?"--"The same."

LXI.

"You served at Widdin?"--"Yes."--"You led the attack?" "I did."--"What next?"--"I really hardly know"-- "You were the first i' the breach?"--"I was not slack At least to follow those who might be so"-- "What followed?"--"A shot laid me on my back, And I became a prisoner to the foe"-- "You shall have vengeance, for the town surrounded Is twice as strong as that where you were wounded.

LXII.

"Where will you serve?"--"Where'er you please."--"I know You like to be the hope of the forlorn, And doubtless would be foremost on the foe After the hardships you've already borne. And this young fellow--say what can he do? He with the beardless chin and garments torn?"-- "Why, General, if he hath no greater fault In War than Love, he had better lead the assault"--

LXIII.

"He shall if that he dare." Here Juan bowed Low as the compliment deserved. Suwarrow Continued: "Your old regiment's allowed, By special providence, to lead to-morrow, Or, it may be, to-night, the assault: I have vowed To several Saints, that shortly plough or harrow Shall pass o'er what was Ismail, and its tusk[410] Be unimpeded by the proudest mosque.

LXIV.

"So now, my lads, for Glory!"--Here he turned And drilled away in the most classic Russian, Until each high heroic bosom burned For cash and conquest, as if from a cushion A preacher had held forth (who nobly spurned All earthly goods save tithes) and bade them push on To slay the Pagans who resisted, battering The armies of the Christian Empress Catherine.

LXV.

Johnson, who knew by this long colloquy Himself a favourite, ventured to address Suwarrow, though engaged with accents high In his resumed amusement. "I confess My debt in being thus allowed to die Among the foremost; but if you'd express Explicitly our several posts, my friend And self would know what duty to attend."

LXVI.

"Right! I was busy, and forgot. Why, you Will join your former regiment, which should be Now under arms. Ho! Katskoff, take him to"-- (Here he called up a Polish orderly) "His post, I mean the regiment Nikolaiew: The stranger stripling may remain with me; He's a fine boy. The women may be sent To the other baggage, or to the sick tent."

LXVII.

But here a sort of scene began to ensue: The ladies,--who by no means had been bred To be disposed of in a way so new, Although their Harem education led, Doubtless, to that of doctrines the most true, Passive obedience,--now raised up the head With flashing eyes and starting tears, and flung Their arms, as hens their wings about their young,

LXVIII.

O'er the promoted couple of brave men Who were thus honoured by the greatest Chief That ever peopled Hell with heroes slain, Or plunged a province or a realm in grief. Oh, foolish mortals! Always taught in vain! Oh, glorious Laurel! since for one sole leaf Of thine imaginary deathless tree, Of blood and tears must flow the unebbing sea.[hu]

LXIX.

Suwarrow, who had small regard for tears, And not much sympathy for blood, surveyed The women with their hair about their ears And natural agonies, with a slight shade Of feeling: for however Habit sears Men's hearts against whole millions, when their trade Is butchery, sometimes a single sorrow Will touch even heroes--and such was Suwarrow.

LXX.

He said,--and in the kindest Calmuck tone,-- "Why, Johnson, what the devil do you mean By bringing women here? They shall be shown All the attention possible, and seen In safety to the waggons, where alone In fact they can be safe. You should have been Aware this kind of baggage never thrives; Save wed a year, I hate recruits with wives"--

LXXI.

"May it please your Excellency," thus replied Our British friend, "these are the wives of others, And not our own. I am too qualified By service with my military brothers To break the rules by bringing one's own bride Into a camp: I know that nought so bothers The hearts of the heroic on a charge, As leaving a small family at large.

LXXII.

"But these are but two Turkish ladies, who With their attendant aided our escape, And afterwards accompanied us through A thousand perils in this dubious shape. To me this kind of life is not so new; To them, poor things, it is an awkward scrape: I therefore, if you wish me to fight freely, Request that they may both be used genteelly."

LXXIII.

Meantime these two poor girls, with swimming eyes, Looked on as if in doubt if they could trust Their own protectors; nor was their surprise Less than their grief (and truly not less just) To see an old man, rather wild than wise In aspect, plainly clad, besmeared with dust, Stripped to his waistcoat, and that not too clean, More feared than all the Sultans ever seen.

LXXIV.

For everything seemed resting on his nod, As they could read in all eyes. Now to them, Who were accustomed, as a sort of god, To see the Sultan, rich in many a gem, Like an imperial peacock stalk abroad (That royal bird, whose tail's a diadem,) With all the pomp of Power, it was a doubt How Power could condescend to do without.

LXXV.

John Johnson, seeing their extreme dismay, Though little versed in feelings oriental, Suggested some slight comfort in his way: Don Juan, who was much more sentimental, Swore they should see him by the dawn of day, Or that the Russian army should repent all: And, strange to say, they found some consolation In this--for females like exaggeration.

LXXVI.

And then with tears, and sighs, and some slight kisses, They parted for the present--these to await, According to the artillery's hits or misses, What sages call Chance, Providence, or Fate-- (Uncertainty is one of many blisses, A mortgage on Humanity's estate;)[hv] While their belovéd friends began to arm, To burn a town which never did them harm.

LXXVII.

Suwarrow,--who but saw things in the gross. Being much too gross to see them in detail, Who calculated life as so much dross, And as the wind a widowed nation's wail, And cared as little for his army's loss (So that their efforts should at length prevail) As wife and friends did for the boils of Job,-- What was 't to him to hear two women sob?

LXXVIII.

Nothing.--The work of Glory still went on In preparations for a cannonade As terrible as that of Ilion, If Homer had found mortars ready made; But now, instead of slaying Priam's son, We only can but talk of escalade, Bombs, drums, guns, bastions, batteries, bayonets, bullets-- Hard words, which stick in the soft Muses' gullets.

LXXIX.

Oh, thou eternal Homer! who couldst charm All ears, though long; all ages, though so short, By merely wielding with poetic arm Arms to which men will never more resort, Unless gunpowder should be found to harm Much less than is the hope of every court, Which now is leagued young Freedom to annoy; But they will not find Liberty a Troy:--

LXXX.

Oh, thou eternal Homer! I have now To paint a siege, wherein more men were slain, With deadlier engines and a speedier blow, Than in thy Greek gazette of that campaign; And yet, like all men else, I must allow, To vie with thee would be about as vain As for a brook to cope with Ocean's flood,-- But still we moderns equal you in blood:[hw]

LXXXI.

If not in poetry, at least in fact; And fact is Truth, the grand desideratum! Of which, howe'er the Muse describes each act, There should be ne'ertheless a slight substratum. But now the town is going to be attacked; Great deeds are doing--how shall I relate 'em? Souls of immortal Generals! Phoebus watches To colour up his rays from your despatches.[hx]

LXXXII.

Oh, ye great bulletins of Bonaparte! Oh, ye less grand long lists of killed and wounded! Shade of Leonidas, who fought so hearty, When my poor Greece was once, as now, surrounded! Oh, Cæsar's Commentaries! now impart, ye Shadows of Glory! (lest I be confounded), A portion of your fading twilight hues-- So beautiful, so fleeting--to the Muse.

LXXXIII.

When I call "fading" martial immortality, I mean, that every age and every year, And almost every day, in sad reality, Some sucking hero is compelled to rear, Who, when we come to sum up the totality Of deeds to human happiness most dear, Turns out to be a butcher in great business, Afflicting young folks with a sort of dizziness.

LXXXIV.

Medals, rank, ribands, lace, embroidery, scarlet, Are things immortal to immortal man, As purple to the Babylonian harlot;[hy] An uniform to boys is like a fan To women; there is scarce a crimson varlet But deems himself the first in Glory's van. But Glory's glory; and if you would find What that is--ask the pig who sees the wind!

LXXXV.

At least he feels it, and some say he sees, Because he runs before it like a pig; Or, if that simple sentence should displease, Say, that he scuds before it like a brig, A schooner, or--but it is time to ease This Canto, ere my Muse perceives fatigue. The next shall ring a peal to shake all people, Like a bob-major from a village steeple.

LXXXVI.

Hark! through the silence of the cold, dull night, The hum of armies gathering rank on rank! Lo! dusky masses steal in dubious sight Along the leaguered wall and bristling bank Of the armed river, while with straggling light The stars peep through the vapours dim and dank, Which curl in various wreaths:--how soon the smoke Of Hell shall pall them in a deeper cloak!

LXXXVII.

Here pause we for the present--as even then That awful pause, dividing Life from Death, Struck for an instant on the hearts of men,-- Thousands of whom were drawing their last breath! A moment--and all will be Life again! The march! the charge! the shouts of either faith, Hurrah! and Allah! and one moment more-- The death-cry drowning in the Battle's roar.[hz][411]

FOOTNOTES:

{302}[364] ["These [the seventh and eighth] Cantos contain a full detail (like the storm in Canto Second) of the siege and assault of Ismael, with much of sarcasm on those butchers in large business, your mercenary soldiery.... With these things and these fellows it is necessary, in the present clash of philosophy and tyranny, to throw away the scabbard. I know it is against fearful odds; but the battle must be fought; and it will be eventually for the good of mankind, whatever it may be for the individual who risks himself."--Letter to Moore, August 8, 1822, Letters, 1901, vi. 101.]

[365] [Byron attributes this phrase to Orator Henley (Letters, 1898, i. 227); and to Bayes in the Duke of Buckingham's play, The Rehearsal (Letters, 1901, v. 80).]

[hh] Of Fenelon, of Calvin and of Christ.--[MS. erased.]

[366] [Compare Childe Harold, Canto II. stanza vii. line 1, Poetical Works, 1899, ii. 103, note 2.]

[hi] Picking a pebble on the shore of Truth.--[MS. erased.]

[367] ["Sir Isaac Newton, a little before he died, said, 'I don't know what I may seem to the world; but, as to myself, I seem to have been only like a boy playing on the sea shore, and diverting myself in now and then finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary whilst the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me.'"--Spence, Anecdotes (quoting Chevalier Ramsay), 1858, p. 40.]

{304}[hj] From fools who dread to know the truth of Life.--[MS. erased.]

[368] [Compare "Inscription on the Monument of a Newfoundland Dog," lines 7, sq., Poetical Works, 1898, i. 280.]

[369] [Aleksandr Vasilievitch Suvóroff (1729-1800) opened his attack on Ismail, November 30, 1790. His forces, including Kossacks, exceeded 27,000 men.--Essai sur l'Histoire Ancienne et Moderne de la Nouvelle Russie, par le Marquis Gabriel de Castelnau, 1827, ii. 201.]

[370] ["Ismaël est situé sur la rive gauche du bras gauche (i.e. the ilia) du Danube."--Ibid..]

{305}[371] [----"à peu près à quatre-vingts verstes de la mer: elle a près de trois milles toises de tour."--Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie, ii. 201.]

[372] ["On a compris dans ces fortifications un faubourg moldave, situé à la gauche de la ville, sur une hauteur qui la domine: l'ouvrage a été terminé par un Grec. Pour donner une idée des talens de cet ingénieur, il suffira de dire qu'il fit placer les palissades perpendiculairement sur le parapet, de manière qu'elles favorisaient les assiégeans, et arrêtaient le feu des assiégés."--Ibid., p. 202.]

[373] ["Le rempart en terre est prodigieusement élevé à cause de l'immense profondeur du fossé; il est cependant absolument rasant: il n'y a ni ouvrage avancé, ni chemin couvert."--Ibid., p. 202.]

[374] [Casemate is a work made under the rampart, like a cellar or cave, with loopholes to place guns in it, and is bomb proof.--Milit. Dict.]

[375] [When the breastwork of a battery is only of such height that the guns may fire over it without being obliged to make embrasures, the guns are said to fire in barbet.--Ibid.]

{306}[376] ["Un bastion de pierres, ouvert par une gorge très-étroite, et dont les murailles son fort épaisses, a une batterie casematée et une à barbette; il défend la rive du Danube. Du côté droit de la ville est un cavalier de quarante pieds d'élévation à pic, garni de vingt-deux pièces de canon, et qui défend la partie gauche."--Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie, ii. 202.]

[377] ["Du côté du fleuve, la ville est absolument ouverte; les Turcs ne croyaient pas que les Russes pussent jamais avoir une flotille dans le Danube."--Ibid., p. 203.]

[378] [Meknop [supposed to be a corruption of McNab], etc., in line three, are real names: Strongenoff stands for Strogonof, Tschitsshakoff for Tchitchagof, and, perhaps, Chokenoff for Tchoglokof.]

{307}[hk] ---- these discords of damnation.--[MS. erased.]

[379] ["La première attaque était composée de trois colonnes, commandées par les lieutenans-generaux Paul Potiemkin, Serge Lwow, les généraux-majors Maurice Lascy, Théodore Meknop.... Trois autres colonnes ... avaient pour chefs le comte de Samoïlow, les généraux Êlie de Bezborodko, Michel Koutousow; les brigadiers Orlow, Platow, Ribaupierre.... La troisième attaque par eau n'avait que deux colonnes, sous les ordres des généraux-majors Ribas et Arséniew, des brigadiers Markoff et Tchépéga," etc.--Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie, ii. 207.

Compare--

"Oscharoffsky and Rostoffsky, And all the others that end in-offsky.

* * * * *

And Kutousoff he cut them off," etc.

Southey's March to Moscow, 1813.]

[380] [Count Boris Petrowitch Scheremetov, Russian general, died 1819; Prince Alexis Borisovitch Kourakin (1759-1829), and Count Alexis Iwanowitch Moussine-Pouschkine (1744-1817) were distinguished statesmen; Chrematoff is, perhaps, a rhyming double of Scherematoff, and Koklophti "a match-piece" to Koclobski.]

{308}[381] [Captain Smith, in the song--

"A Captain bold, in Halifax, That dwelt in country quarters, Seduc'd a maid who hang'd herself One Monday in her garters."

See George Colman's farce, Love Laughs at Locksmiths, 1818, p. 31.]

{309}[382] [Compare--

"While to my shame I see The imminent death of twenty thousand men, That for a fantasy and trick of fame Go to their graves like beds."

Hamlet, act iv. sc. 4, lines 56-59.]

[hl] The Conquest seemed not difficult----.--[MS. erased.]

[383] ["On s'était proposé deux buts également avantageux, par la construction de deux batteries sur l'île qui avoisine Ismaël: le premier, de bombarder la place, d'en abattre les principaux édifices avec du canon de quarante-huit, effet d'autant plus probable, que la ville étant bâtie en amphithéâtre, presque aucun coup ne serait perdu."--Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie, ii. 203.]

[384] ["Le second objet était de profiter de ce moment d'alarme pour que la flottille, agissant en même temps, put détruire celle des Turcs. Un troisième motif, et vraisemblablement le plus plausible, était de jeter la consternation parmi les Turcs, et de les engager à capituler."--Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie, ii. 203.]

{310}[hm] Unless they are as game as bull-dogs or even tarriers. or, A thing which sometimes hath occurred to warriors, Unless they happened to be as game as tarriers.-- [MS. A. Alternative reading.] Unless they are Game as bull-dogs or even terriers.--[MS. B.]

(Byron erased the reading of MS. B. and superscribed the reading of the text.)

[385] ["Une habitude blâmable, celle de mépriser son ennemi, fut la cause."--Ibid., p. 203.]

[386] [" ... du défaut de perfection dans la construction des batteries; on voulait agir promptement, et on négligea de donner aux ouvrages la solidité qu'ils exigaient."--Ibid., p. 203.]

{311}[387] ["Le même esprit fit manquer l'effet de trois brûlots; on calcula mal la distance; on se pressa d'allumer la méche, ils brûlèrent au milieu du fleuve, et quoiqu'il fût six heures du matin, les Turcs, encore couchés, n'en prirent aucun ombrage."--Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie, ii. 203.]

[388] ["1^er^ Dec. 1790. La flottille russe s'avança vers les sept heures; il en était neuf lorsqu'elle se trouva à cinquante toises de la ville [d'Ismaël]: elle souffrit, avec une constance calme, un feu de mitraille et de mousqueterie...."--Ibid., p. 204.]

[389] [" ... près de six heures ... les batteries de terre secondaient la flottille; mais on reconnut alors que les canonnades ne suffiraient pas pour réduire la place, on fit la retraite à une heure. Un lançon sauta pendant l'action, un autre dériva par la force du courant, et fut pris par l'ennemi."'--Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie, ii. 204.]

{312}[390] [For Delhis, see Poetical Works, 1899, ii., note 1.]

[391] ["Les Turcs perdirent beaucoup de monde et plusieurs vaisseaux. A peine la retraite des Russes fut-elle remarquée, que les plus braves d'entre les ennemis se jetèrent dans de petites barques et essayèrent une descente: le Comte de Damas les mit en fuite, et leur tua plusieurs officiers et grand nombre de soldats."--Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie, p. 204.]

[392] ["On ne tarirait pas si on voulait rapporter tout ce que les Russes firent de mémorable dans cette journée; pour conter les hauts faits d'armes, pour particulariser toutes les actions d'éclat, il faudrait composer des volumes."--Ibid., p. 204.]

[393] ["Parmi les étrangers, le prince de Ligne se distingua de manière à mériter l'estime générale; de vrais chevaliers français, attirés par l'amour de la gloire, se montrèrent dignes d'elle: les plus marquans étaient le jeune Duc de Richelieu, les Comtes de Langeron et de Damas."--Ibid., p. 204.

Andrault, Comte de Langeron, born at Paris, January 13, 1763, on the outbreak of the Revolution (1790) took service in the Russian Army. He fought against the Swedes in 1790, and the Turks in 1791, and, after serving as a volunteer in the army of the Duke of Brunswick (1792-93), returned to Russia, and was raised to the rank of general in 1799. He commanded a division of the Russian Army in the German campaign of 1813, and entered Paris with Blücher, March 30, 1814. He was afterwards Governor of Odessa and of New Russia; and, a second time, fought against the Turks in 1828. He died at St. Petersburg, July 4, 1831. Joseph Elizabeth Roger, Comte de Damas d'Antigny, born at Paris, September 4, 1765, owed his commission in the Russian Army to the influence of the Prince de Ligne. He fought against the Turks in 1787-88, and was distinguished for bravery and daring. At the Restoration in 1814 he re-entered the French Army, was made Governor of Lyons; shared the temporary exile of Louis XVIII. at Ghent in 1815, and, in the following year, as commandant of a division, took part in repressing the revolutionary disturbances in the central and southern departments of France. He died at Cirey, September 3, 1823.--La Grande Encyclopédie.]

{313}[394] [Charles Joseph, Prince de Ligne, was born at Brussels, May 12, 1735. In 1782 he visited St. Petersburg as envoy of the Emperor Joseph II., won Catherine's favour, and was appointed Field Marshal in the Russian Army. In 1788 he was sent to assist Potemkin at the siege of Ochakof. His Mélanges Militaires, etc., were first published in 1795. He died in November, 1814.

Josef de Ribas (1737-c. 1797).]

[395] ["L'Amiral de Ribas ... déclara, en plein conseil, que ce n'était qu'en donnant l'assaut qu'on obtiendrait la place: cet avis parut hardi; on lui opposa mille raisons, auxquelles il répondit par de meilleures." --Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie, ii, 205.]

{314}[396] [Prince (Gregor Alexandrovitch) Potemkin, born 1736, died October 15, 1791. "He alighted from his carriage in the midst of the highway, threw himself on the grass, and died under a tree" (Life of Catherine II., by W. Tooke, 1880, iii. 324). His character has been drawn by Louis Philippe, Comte de Ségur, who, writes Tooke (ibid., p. 326), "lived a long time in habits of intimacy with him, and was so obliging as to delineate it at our solicitation." "In his person were collected the most opposite defects and advantages of every kind. He was avaricious and ostentatious, ... haughty and obliging, politic and confiding, licentious and superstitious, bold and timid, ambitious and indiscreet; lavish of his bounties to his relations, his mistresses, and his favourites, yet frequently paying neither his household nor his creditors. His consequence always depended on a woman, and he was always unfaithful to her. Nothing could equal the activity of his mind, nor the indolence of his body. No dangers could appal his courage; no difficulties force him to abandon his projects. But the success of an enterprise always brought on disgust.... Everything with him was desultory; business, pleasure, temper, carriage. His presence was a restraint on every company. He was morose to all that stood in awe of him, and caressed all such as accosted him with familiarity.... None had read less than he; few people were better informed.... One while he formed the project of becoming Duke of Courland; at another he thought of bestowing on himself the crown of Poland. He frequently gave intimations of an intention to make himself a bishop, or even a simple monk. He built a superb palace, and wanted to sell it before it was finished. In his youth he had pleased her [Catherine] by the ardour of his passion, by his valour, and by his masculine beauty.... Become the rival of Orloff, he performed for his sovereign whatever the most romantic passion could inspire. He put out his eye, to free it from a blemish which diminished his beauty. Banished by his rival, he ran to meet death in battle, and returned with glory."]

{315}[397] ["Ce projet, remis à un autre jour, éprouva encore les plus grandes difficultés; son courage les surmonta: il ne s'agíssait que de déterminer le Prince Potiemkin; il y réussit. Tandis qu'il se démenait pour l'exécution de projet agréé, on construisait de nouvelles batteries; on comptait, le 12 décembre, quatre-vingts pièces de canon sur le bord du Danube, et cette journée se passa en vives canonnades."--Histoire de la Nouvelle Russie, ii. 205.]

[hn] Into all aspirants for martial praise.--[MS. erased.]

[398] ["Le 13^e^, une partie des troupes était embarquée; on allait lever le siège: un courrier arrive.... Ce courrier annonce, de la part du prince, que le maréchal Souwarow va prendre le commandement des forces réunies sous Ismaël."--Ibid., p. 205.]

{316}[399] ["La lettre du Prince Potiemkin à Souwarow est très courte; elle peint le caractere de ces deux personnages. La voici dans toute sa teneur: 'Vous prendrez Ismaël à quel frix que ce soit!'"--Hist, de la Nouvelle Russie, ii. 205.]

[400] ["[Le courrier] est témoin des cris de joie du Turc, qui se croyait à la fin de ses maux."-Ibid., p. 205.]

[401] ["Beat," as in "dead-beat," is occasionally used for "beaten."--See N.E.D., art. "Beat," 10.]

[402] ["Le 16^e^, on voit venir de loin deux hommes courant à toute bride: on les prit pour des Kozaks; l'un était Souwarow, et l'autre son guide, portant un paquet gros comme le poing, et renfermant le bagage du général."-Hist, de la Nouvelle Russie, ii. 205.

M. de Castelnau in his description of the arrival of Suvóroff on the field of battle (Hist, de la N.R., 1827, ii. pp, 205, 206) summarizes the Journal of the Duc de Richelieu. The original passage runs as follows:--

"L'arrivée du comte Souvorow produisit un grand effet parmi les troupes.... La manière d'être plus que simple, puis-qu'il logeait sous une canonnière, et qu'il n'avait pas même de chaises dans sa tente, son affabilité, sa bonhomie lui conciliaient l'affection de tous les individus de son armée. Cet homme singulier qui ressemble plus à un chef de cosaques ou de Tartares, qu'au général d'une armée européenne, est doué d'une intrépidité et d'une hardiesse peu communes.... La manière de vivre, de s'habiller et de parler du comte Souvorow, est aussi singulière que ses opinions militaires.... Il mangeait dans sa tente assis par terre autour d'une natte sur laquelle il prenait le plus détestable repas. L'après-midi, un semblable repas lui servait de souper, il s'endormait ensuite pendant quelques heures, passait une partie de la nuit à chanter, et a la pointe du jour il sortait presque nu et se roulait sur l'herbe assurant que cet exercice lui était necessaire pour le préserver des rhumatismes.... Sa manière de s'exprimer dans toutes les langues est aussi singulière que toute sa façon d'être, ses phrases sont incohérentes, et s'il n'est pas insensé, il dit et fait du moins tout ce qu'il faut pour le paraître; mais il est heureux et cette qualité dont le Cardinal Mazarin faisait tant de cas, est, à bon droit, fort estimée de l'Impératrice et du Prince Potemkin ... Le moment de l'arrivée du Comte Souvorow fut annoncé par une décharge générale des batteries ou camp et de la flotte."--Journal de mon Voyage en Allemagne. Soc, Imp. d'Hist de Russie, 1886, tom. liv. pp. 168, 169.]

{317}[ho] That sage John Bull----.--[MS.]

That fool John Bull----.--[MS. erased.]

{319}[403] ["La première attaque était composée de trois colonnes ... Trois autres colonnes, destinées a la seconde attaque, avaient pour chefs, etc.... La troisième attaque par eau n'avait que deux colonnes."--Hist, de la Nouvelle Russie, ii. 207.]

[404] ["On construisit de nouvelles batteries le 18^e^.... On tint un conseil de guerre, on y examina les plans pour l'assaut proposés par M. de Ribas, ils réunirent tous les souffrages."--Ibid., p. 208.]

[hp] For once by some odd sort of magnanimity.--[MS. erased.]

[hq] Bellona shook her spear with much sublimity.--[MS. erased.]

[405] Fact: Suwaroff did this in person.

[hr]---- and neither swerve nor spill.--[MS. erased.]

[406] ["Le 19^e^ et le 20^e^, Souwarow exerçailes soldats; il leur montra comment il fallait s'y prendre pour escalader; il enseigna aux recrues la manière de donner le coup de baïonnette."--Ibid., p. 208.]

{320}[407] ["Pour ces exercices d'un nouveau genre, il se servit de fascines disposées de manière a représenter un Turc."-Hist, de la Nauvelle Russie, ii. 208.]

[hs] At which your wise men laughed, but all their Wit is Lost, for his repartee was taking cities.--[MS. erased.]

[ht] For some were thinking of their wives and families, And others of themselves (as poet Samuel is). --[MS. Alternative reading.] And others of themselves (as my friend Samuel is). --[MS. erased.]

[408] [For a detailed account of Suvóroff's personal characteristics, see The Life of Field-Marshal Souvaroff, by L.M.P. Tranchant de Laverne, 1814, pp. 267-291; and Suvóroff, by Lieut.-Colonel Spalding, 1890, pp. 222-229.

Byron's epithet "buffoon" (line 5) may, perhaps, be traced to the following anecdote recorded by Tranchant de Laverne (p. 281): "During the first war of Poland ... he published, in the order of the day, that at the first crowing of the cock the troops would march to attack the enemy, and caused the spy to send word that the Russians would be upon them some time after midnight. But about eight o'clock Souvarof ran through the camp, imitating the crowing of a cock.... The enemy, completely surprised, lost a great number of men."

For his "praying" (line 6), vide ibid., pp. 272, 273: "He made a short prayer after each meal, and again when going to bed. He usually performed his devotions before an image of St. Nicholas, the patron saint of Russia."

"Half-dirt" (line 5) is, however, a calumny (ibid. p. 272): "It was his custom to rise at the earliest dawn; several buckets of cold water were thrown over his naked body."

The same writer (p. 268) repudiates the charges of excessive barbarity and cruelty brought against Suvóroff by C.F.P. Masson, in his Mémoires Secrets sur la Russie (vide, e.g., ed. 1800, i. 311): "Souvorow ne scroit que le plus ridicule bouffon, s'il n'étoit pas montré le plus barbare guerrier. C'est un monstre, qui renferme dans le corps d'un singe l'âme d'un chien de boucher. Attila, son compatriote, et don't il descend, peut-être ne fut ni si heureux, ni si féroce."

Suvóroff did not regard himself as "half-demon." "Your pencil," he reminded the artist Müller, "will delineate the features of my face. These are visible: but my inner man is hidden. I must tell you that I have shed rivers of blood. I tremble, but I love my neighbour. In my whole life I have made no one unhappy; not an insect hath perished by my hand. I was little; I was big. In fortune's ebb and flow, relying on God, I stood immovable--even as now." (Suvóroff, 1890, p. 228, note.)]

{322}[409] [See, for instance, The Storm, in "Souvarof's Catechism," Appendix (pp. 299-305) to the Life, etc., by Tranchant de Laverne, 1814: "Break down the fence.... Fly over the walls! Stab them on the ramparts!... Fire down the streets! Fire briskly!... Kill every enemy in the streets! Let the cavalry hack them!" etc.]

{323}[410] [The "tusk" of the plough is the coulter or share. Compare "Dens vomeris" (Virg., Georg., i. 22).]

{324}[hu] Of thine imaginary deathless bough The unebbing sea of blood and tears must flow.--[MS. erased.]

{326}[hv] Entailed upon Humanity's estate.--[MS. erased.]

{327}[hw] As a brook's stream to cope with Ocean's flood shed But still we moderns equal you in bloodshed.--[MS. erased.]

{328}[hx] As in a General's letter when well whacked Whatever deeds be done I will relate 'em, With some small variations in the text Of killed and wounded who will not be missed.--[MS. erased.]

[hy] Whose leisure hours are wasted on an harlot.--[MS. erased.]

{329}[hz] The desperate death-cry and the Battle's roar.--[MS. erased.]

[411] End of Canto 7. 1822.--[MS.]

CANTO THE EIGHTH.

I.

Oh, blood and thunder! and oh, blood and wounds! These are but vulgar oaths, as you may deem, Too gentle reader! and most shocking sounds:-- And so they are; yet thus is Glory's dream Unriddled, and as my true Muse expounds At present such things, since they are her theme, So be they her inspirers! Call them Mars, Bellona, what you will--they mean but wars.

II.

All was prepared--the fire, the sword, the men To wield them in their terrible array,-- The army, like a lion from his den, Marched forth with nerve and sinews bent to slay,-- A human Hydra, issuing from its fen To breathe destruction on its winding way, Whose heads were heroes, which cut off in vain Immediately in others grew again.

III.

History can only take things in the gross; But could we know them in detail, perchance In balancing the profit and the loss, War's merit it by no means might enhance, To waste so much gold for a little dross, As hath been done, mere conquest to advance. The drying up a single tear has more Of honest fame, than shedding seas of gore.

IV.

And why?--because it brings self-approbation; Whereas the other, after all its glare, Shouts, bridges, arches, pensions from a nation, Which (it may be) has not much left to spare, A higher title, or a loftier station, Though they may make Corruption gape or stare, Yet, in the end, except in Freedom's battles, Are nothing but a child of Murder's rattles.

V.

And such they are--and such they will be found: Not so Leonidas and Washington, Whose every battle-field is holy ground, Which breathes of nations saved, not worlds undone. How sweetly on the ear such echoes sound! While the mere victor's may appal or stun The servile and the vain--such names will be A watchword till the Future shall be free.

VI.

The night was dark, and the thick mist allowed Nought to be seen save the artillery's flame, Which arched the horizon like a fiery cloud, And in the Danube's waters shone the same--[412] A mirrored Hell! the volleying roar, and loud Long booming of each peal on peal, o'ercame The ear far more than thunder; for Heaven's flashes Spare, or smite rarely--Man's make millions ashes!

VII.

The column ordered on the assault scarce passed Beyond the Russian batteries a few toises, When up the bristling Moslem rose at last, Answering the Christian thunders with like voices: Then one vast fire, air, earth, and stream embraced, Which rocked as 't were beneath the mighty noises; While the whole rampart blazed like Etna, when The restless Titan hiccups in his den;[413]

VIII.

And one enormous shout of "Allah!"[414] rose In the same moment, loud as even the roar Of War's most mortal engines, to their foes Hurling defiance: city, stream, and shore Resounded "Allah!" and the clouds which close With thickening canopy the conflict o'er, Vibrate to the Eternal name. Hark! through All sounds it pierceth--"Allah! Allah Hu!"[415]

IX.

The columns were in movement one and all, But of the portion which attacked by water, Thicker than leaves the lives began to fall,[416] Though led by Arseniew, that great son of slaughter, As brave as ever faced both bomb and ball. "Carnage" (so Wordsworth tells you) "is God's daughter:"[417] If he speak truth, she is Christ's sister, and Just now behaved as in the Holy Land.

X.

The Prince de Ligne was wounded in the knee; Count Chapeau-Bras,[ia]--too, had a ball between His cap and head,[418] which proves the head to be Aristocratic as was ever seen, Because it then received no injury More than the cap; in fact, the ball could mean No harm unto a right legitimate head; "Ashes to ashes"--why not lead to lead?

XI.

Also the General Markow, Brigadier, Insisting on removal of the Prince Amidst some groaning thousands dying near,-- All common fellows, who might writhe and wince, And shriek for water into a deaf ear,-- The General Markow, who could thus evince His sympathy for rank, by the same token, To teach him greater, had his own leg broken.[419]

XII.

Three hundred cannon threw up their emetic, And thirty thousand muskets flung their pills Like hail, to make a bloody Diuretic.[420] Mortality! thou hast thy monthly bills: Thy plagues--thy famines--thy physicians--yet tick, Like the death-watch, within our ears the ills Past, present, and to come;--but all may yield To the true portrait of one battle-field;

XIII.

There the still varying pangs, which multiply Until their very number makes men hard By the infinities of agony, Which meet the gaze, whate'er it may regard-- The groan, the roll in dust, the all-white eye Turned back within its socket,--these reward Your rank and file by thousands, while the rest May win perhaps a riband at the breast!

XIV.

Yet I love Glory;--Glory's a great thing:-- Think what it is to be in your old age Maintained at the expense of your good King: A moderate pension shakes full many a sage, And Heroes are but made for bards to sing, Which is still better--thus, in verse, to wage Your wars eternally, besides enjoying Half-pay for life, make Mankind worth destroying.

XV.

The troops, already disembarked, pushed on To take a battery on the right: the others, Who landed lower down, their landing done, Had set to work as briskly as their brothers: Being grenadiers, they mounted one by one, Cheerful as children climb the breasts of mothers, O'er the intrenchment and the palisade,[421] Quite orderly, as if upon parade.

XVI.

And this was admirable: for so hot The fire was, that were red Vesuvius loaded, Besides its lava, with all sorts of shot And shells or hells, it could not more have goaded. Of officers a third fell on the spot, A thing which Victory by no means boded To gentlemen engaged in the assault: Hounds, when the huntsman tumbles, are at fault.

XVII.

But here I leave the general concern To track our Hero on his path of Fame: He must his laurels separately earn-- For fifty thousand heroes, name by name, Though all deserving equally to turn A couplet, or an elegy to claim, Would form a lengthy lexicon of Glory, And, what is worse still, a much longer story:

XVIII.

And therefore we must give the greater number To the Gazette--which doubtless fairly dealt By the deceased, who lie in famous slumber In ditches, fields, or wheresoe'er they felt Their clay for the last time their souls encumber;-- Thrice happy he whose name has been well spelt In the despatch: I knew a man whose loss Was printed Grove, although his name was Grose.[422]

XIX.

Juan and Johnson joined a certain corps, And fought away with might and main, not knowing The way which they had never trod before, And still less guessing where they might be going; But on they marched, dead bodies trampling o'er, Firing, and thrusting, slashing, sweating, glowing, But fighting thoughtlessly enough to win, To their two selves, one whole bright bulletin.

XX.

Thus on they wallowed in the bloody mire Of dead and dying thousands,--sometimes gaining A yard or two of ground, which brought them nigher To some odd angle for which all were straining; At other times, repulsed by the close fire, Which really poured as if all Hell were raining Instead of Heaven, they stumbled backwards o'er A wounded comrade, sprawling in his gore.

XXI.

Though 't was Don Juan's first of fields, and though The nightly muster and the silent march In the chill dark, when Courage does not glow So much as under a triumphal arch, Perhaps might make him shiver, yawn, or throw A glance on the dull clouds (as thick as starch, Which stiffened Heaven) as if he wished for day;-- Yet for all this he did not run away.

XXII.

Indeed he could not. But what if he had? There have been and are heroes who begun With something not much better, or as bad: Frederick the Great from Molwitz[423] deigned to run, For the first and last time; for, like a pad, Or hawk, or bride, most mortals after one Warm bout are broken in to their new tricks, And fight like fiends for pay or politics.

XXIII.

He was what Erin calls, in her sublime Old Erse or Irish, or it may be Punic;-- (The antiquarians[424]--who can settle Time, Which settles all things, Roman, Greek, or Runic-- Swear that Pat's language sprung from the same clime With Hannibal, and wears the Tyrian tunic Of Dido's alphabet--and this is rational As any other notion, and not national;)--

XXIV.

But Juan was quite "a broth of a boy," A thing of impulse and a child of song; Now swimming in the sentiment of joy, Or the sensation (if that phrase seem wrong), And afterward, if he must needs destroy, In such good company as always throng To battles, sieges, and that kind of pleasure, No less delighted to employ his leisure;

XXV.

But always without malice: if he warred Or loved, it was with what we call "the best Intentions," which form all Mankind's trump card, To be produced when brought up to the test. The statesman--hero--harlot--lawyer--ward Off each attack, when people are in quest Of their designs, by saying they meant well; 'T is pity "that such meaning should pave Hell."[425]

XXVI.

I almost lately have begun to doubt Whether Hell's pavement--if it be so paved-- Must not have latterly been quite worn out, Not by the numbers good intent hath saved, But by the mass who go below without Those ancient good intentions, which once shaved And smoothed the brimstone of that street of Hell Which bears the greatest likeness to Pall Mall.[ib]

XXVII.

Juan, by some strange chance, which oft divides Warrior from warrior in their grim career, Like chastest wives from constant husbands' sides Just at the close of the first bridal year, By one of those odd turns of Fortune's tides, Was on a sudden rather puzzled here, When, after a good deal of heavy firing, He found himself alone, and friends retiring.

XXVIII.

I don't know how the thing occurred--it might Be that the greater part were killed or wounded, And that the rest had faced unto the right About; a circumstance which has confounded Cæsar himself, who, in the very sight Of his whole army, which so much abounded In courage, was obliged to snatch a shield, And rally back his Romans to the field.[426]

XXIX.

Juan, who had no shield to snatch, and was No Cæsar, but a fine young lad, who fought He knew not why, arriving at this pass, Stopped for a minute, as perhaps he ought For a much longer time; then, like an ass (Start not, kind reader, since great Homer[427] thought This simile enough for Ajax, Juan Perhaps may find it better than a new one);

XXX.

Then, like an ass, he went upon his way, And, what was stranger, never looked behind; But seeing, flashing forward, like the day Over the hills, a fire enough to blind Those who dislike to look upon a fray, He stumbled on, to try if he could find A path, to add his own slight arm and forces To corps, the greater part of which were corses.

XXXI.

Perceiving then no more the commandant Of his own corps, nor even the corps, which had Quite disappeared--the gods know how! (I can't Account for everything which may look bad In history; but we at least may grant It was not marvellous that a mere lad, In search of Glory, should look on before, Nor care a pinch of snuff about his corps:)--[ic]

XXXII.

Perceiving nor commander nor commanded, And left at large, like a young heir, to make His way to--where he knew not--single handed; As travellers follow over bog and brake An "ignis fatuus;" or as sailors stranded Unto the nearest hut themselves betake; So Juan, following Honour and his nose, Rushed where the thickest fire announced most foes.[428]

XXXIII.

He knew not where he was, nor greatly cared, For he was dizzy, busy, and his veins Filled as with lightning--for his spirit shared The hour, as is the case with lively brains; And where the hottest fire was seen and heard, And the loud cannon pealed his hoarsest strains, He rushed, while earth and air were sadly shaken By thy humane discovery, Friar Bacon![id][429]

XXXIV.

And as he rushed along, it came to pass he Fell in with what was late the second column, Under the orders of the General Lascy, But now reduced, as is a bulky volume Into an elegant extract (much less massy) Of heroism, and took his place with solemn Air 'midst the rest, who kept their valiant faces And levelled weapons still against the Glacis.[ie]

XXXV.

Just at this crisis up came Johnson too, Who had "retreated," as the phrase is when Men run away much rather than go through Destruction's jaws into the Devil's den; But Johnson was a clever fellow, who Knew when and how "to cut and come again," And never ran away, except when running Was nothing but a valorous kind of cunning.

XXXVI.

And so, when all his corps were dead or dying, Except Don Juan, a mere novice, whose More virgin valour never dreamt of flying, From ignorance of danger, which indues Its votaries, like Innocence relying On its own strength, with careless nerves and thews,-- Johnson retired a little, just to rally Those who catch cold in "shadows of Death's valley."

XXXVII.

And there, a little sheltered from the shot, Which rained from bastion, battery, parapet, Rampart, wall, casement, house--for there was not In this extensive city, sore beset By Christian soldiery, a single spot Which did not combat like the Devil, as yet,-- He found a number of Chasseurs, all scattered By the resistance of the chase they battered.

XXXVIII.

And these he called on; and, what 's strange, they came Unto his call, unlike "the spirits from The vasty deep," to whom you may exclaim, Says Hotspur, long ere they will leave their home:--[430] Their reasons were uncertainty, or shame At shrinking from a bullet or a bomb, And that odd impulse, which in wars or creeds[if] Makes men, like cattle, follow him who leads.

XXXIX.

By Jove! he was a noble fellow, Johnson, And though his name, than Ajax or Achilles, Sounds less harmonious, underneath the sun soon We shall not see his likeness: he could kill his Man quite as quietly as blows the Monsoon Her steady breath (which some months the same still is): Seldom he varied feature, hue, or muscle, And could be very busy without bustle;

XL.

And therefore, when he ran away, he did so Upon reflection, knowing that behind He would find others who would fain be rid so Of idle apprehensions, which like wind Trouble heroic stomachs. Though their lids so Oft are soon closed, all heroes are not blind, But when they light upon immediate death, Retire a little, merely to take breath.

XLI.

But Johnson only ran off, to return With many other warriors, as we said, Unto that rather somewhat misty bourne, Which Hamlet tells us is a pass of dread.[431] To Jack, howe'er, this gave but slight concern: His soul (like galvanism upon the dead) Acted upon the living as on wire, And led them back into the heaviest fire.

XLII.

Egad! they found the second time what they The first time thought quite terrible enough To fly from, malgré all which people say Of Glory, and all that immortal stuff Which fills a regiment (besides their pay, That daily shilling which makes warriors tough)-- They found on their return the self-same welcome, Which made some think, and others know, a hell come.

XLIII.

They fell as thick as harvests beneath hail, Grass before scythes, or corn below the sickle, Proving that trite old truth, that Life's as frail As any other boon for which men stickle. The Turkish batteries thrashed them like a flail, Or a good boxer, into a sad pickle Putting the very bravest, who were knocked Upon the head before their guns were cocked.

XLIV.

The Turks behind the traverses and flanks Of the next bastion, fired away like devils, And swept, as gales sweep foam away, whole ranks: However, Heaven knows how, the Fate who levels Towns--nations--worlds, in her revolving pranks, So ordered it, amidst these sulphury revels, That Johnson, and some few who had not scampered, Reached the interior "talus"[432] of the rampart.[433]

XLV.

First one or two, then five, six, and a dozen Came mounting quickly up, for it was now All neck or nothing, as, like pitch or rosin, Flame was showered forth above, as well 's below, So that you scarce could say who best had chosen, The gentlemen that were the first to show Their martial faces on the parapet, Or those who thought it brave to wait as yet.

XLVI.

But those who scaled, found out that their advance Was favoured by an accident or blunder: The Greek or Turkish Cohorn's[434] ignorance Had pallisadoed in a way you'd wonder To see in forts of Netherlands or France-- (Though these to our Gibraltar must knock under)-- Right in the middle of the parapet Just named, these palisades were primly set:[435]

XLVII.

So that on either side some nine or ten Paces were left, whereon you could contrive To march; a great convenience to our men, At least to all those who were left alive, Who thus could form a line and fight again; And that which farther aided them to strive Was, that they could kick down the palisades, Which scarcely rose much higher than grass blades.[436]

XLVIII.

Among the first,--I will not say the first, For such precedence upon such occasions Will oftentimes make deadly quarrels burst Out between friends as well as allied nations: The Briton must be bold who really durst Put to such trial John Bull's partial patience, As say that Wellington at Waterloo Was beaten,--though the Prussians say so too;--

XLIX.

And that if Blucher, Bulow, Gneisenau, And God knows who besides in "au" and "ow," Had not come up in time to cast an awe[437] Into the hearts of those who fought till now As tigers combat with an empty craw, The Duke of Wellington had ceased to show His Orders--also to receive his pensions, Which are the heaviest that our history mentions.

L.

But never mind;--"God save the King!" and Kings! For if he don't, I doubt if men will longer-- I think I hear a little bird, who sings The people by and by will be the stronger: The veriest jade will wince whose harness wrings So much into the raw as quite to wrong her Beyond the rules of posting,--and the mob At last fall sick of imitating Job.

LI.

At first it grumbles, then it swears, and then, Like David, flings smooth pebbles 'gainst a Giant; At last it takes to weapons such as men Snatch when Despair makes human hearts less pliant. Then comes "the tug of war;"--'t will come again, I rather doubt; and I would fain say "fie on 't," If I had not perceived that Revolution Alone can save the earth from Hell's pollution.

LII.

But to continue:--I say not the first, But of the first, our little friend Don Juan Walked o'er the walls of Ismail, as if nursed Amidst such scenes--though this was quite a new one To him, and I should hope to most. The thirst Of Glory, which so pierces through and through one, Pervaded him--although a generous creature, As warm in heart as feminine in feature.[ig]

LIII.

And here he was--who upon Woman's breast, Even from a child, felt like a child; howe'er The Man in all the rest might be confessed, To him it was Elysium to be there; And he could even withstand that awkward test Which Rousseau points out to the dubious fair, "Observe your lover when he leaves your arms;" But Juan never left them--while they had charms,

LIV.

Unless compelled by Fate, or wave, or wind, Or near relations--who are much the same. But here he was!--where each tie that can bind Humanity must yield to steel and flame: And he whose very body was all mind, Flung here by Fate or Circumstance, which tame The loftiest, hurried by the time and place, Dashed on like a spurred blood-horse in a race.

LV.

So was his blood stirred while he found resistance, As is the hunter's at the five-bar gate, Or double post and rail, where the existence Of Britain's youth depends upon their weight-- The lightest being the safest: at a distance He hated cruelty, as all men hate Blood, until heated--and even then his own At times would curdle o'er some heavy groan.

LVI.

The General Lascy, who had been hard pressed, Seeing arrive an aid so opportune As were some hundred youngsters all abreast, Who came as if just dropped down from the moon To Juan, who was nearest him, addressed His thanks, and hopes to take the city soon, Not reckoning him to be a "base Bezonian"[438] (As Pistol calls it), but a young Livonian.[439]

LVII.

Juan, to whom he spoke in German, knew As much of German as of Sanscrit, and In answer made an inclination to The General who held him in command; For seeing one with ribands, black and blue, Stars, medals, and a bloody sword in hand, Addressing him in tones which seemed to thank, He recognised an officer of rank.

LVIII.

Short speeches pass between two men who speak No common language; and besides, in time Of war and taking towns, when many a shriek Rings o'er the dialogue, and many a crime Is perpetrated ere a word can break Upon the ear, and sounds of horror chime In like church-bells, with sigh, howl, groan, yell, prayer, There cannot be much conversation there.

LIX.

And therefore all we have related in Two long octaves, passed in a little minute; But in the same small minute, every sin Contrived to get itself comprised within it. The very cannon, deafened by the din, Grew dumb, for you might almost hear a linnet, As soon as thunder, 'midst the general noise Of Human Nature's agonizing voice!

LX.

The town was entered. Oh Eternity!-- "God made the country, and man made the town," So Cowper says[440]--and I begin to be Of his opinion, when I see cast down Rome--Babylon-Tyre-Carthage--Nineveh-- All walls men know, and many never known; And pondering on the present and the past, To deem the woods shall be our home at last:--

LXI.

Of all men, saving Sylla,[441] the man-slayer, Who passes for in life and death most lucky, Of the great names which in our faces stare, The General Boon, back-woodsman of Kentucky,[442] Was happiest amongst mortals anywhere; For killing nothing but a bear or buck, he Enjoyed the lonely, vigorous, harmless days Of his old age in wilds of deepest maze.

LXII.

Crime came not near him--she is not the child Of solitude; Health shrank not from him--for Her home is in the rarely trodden wild, Where if men seek her not, and death be more Their choice than life, forgive them, as beguiled By habit to what their own hearts abhor-- In cities caged. The present case in point I Cite is, that Boon lived hunting up to ninety;

LXIII.

And, what's still stranger, left behind a name For which men vainly decimate the throng, Not only famous, but of that good fame, Without which Glory's but a tavern song-- Simple, serene, the antipodes of Shame, Which Hate nor Envy e'er could tinge with wrong; An active hermit, even in age the child Of Nature--or the Man of Ross[443] run wild.

LXIV.

'T is true he shrank from men even of his nation, When they built up unto his darling trees,-- He moved some hundred miles off, for a station Where there were fewer houses and more ease; The inconvenience of civilisation Is, that you neither can be pleased nor please; But where he met the individual man, He showed himself as kind as mortal can.

LXV.

He was not all alone: around him grew A sylvan tribe of children of the chase, Whose young, unwakened world was ever new, Nor sword nor sorrow yet had left a trace On her unwrinkled brow, nor could you view A frown on Nature's or on human face; The free-born forest found and kept them free, And fresh as is a torrent or a tree.

LXVI.

And tall, and strong, and swift of foot were they, Beyond the dwarfing city's pale abortions, Because their thoughts had never been the prey Of care or gain: the green woods were their portions; No sinking spirits told them they grew grey, No fashion made them apes of her distortions; Simple they were, not savage--and their rifles, Though very true, were not yet used for trifles.

LXVII.

Motion was in their days, Rest in their slumbers, And Cheerfulness the handmaid of their toil; Nor yet too many nor too few their numbers; Corruption could not make their hearts her soil; The lust which stings, the splendour which encumbers, With the free foresters divide no spoil; Serene, not sullen, were the solitudes Of this unsighing people of the woods.

LXVIII.

So much for Nature:--by way of variety, Now back to thy great joys, Civilisation! And the sweet consequence of large society, War--pestilence--the despot's desolation, The kingly scourge, the lust of notoriety, The millions slain by soldiers for their ration, The scenes like Catherine's boudoir at threescore,[444] With Ismail's storm to soften it the more.

LXIX.

The town was entered: first one column made Its sanguinary way good--then another; The reeking bayonet and the flashing blade Clashed 'gainst the scimitar, and babe and mother With distant shrieks were heard Heaven to upbraid:-- Still closer sulphury clouds began to smother The breath of morn and man, where foot by foot The maddened Turks their city still dispute.

LXX.

Koutousow,[445] he who afterwards beat back (With some assistance from the frost and snow) Napoleon on his bold and bloody track, It happened was himself beat back just now: He was a jolly fellow, and could crack His jest alike in face of friend or foe, Though Life, and Death, and Victory were at stake;[446] But here it seemed his jokes had ceased to take:

LXXI.

For having thrown himself into a ditch, Followed in haste by various grenadiers, Whose blood the puddle greatly did enrich, He climbed to where the parapet appears; But there his project reached its utmost pitch ('Mongst other deaths the General Ribaupierre's Was much regretted), for the Moslem men Threw them all down into the ditch again.[447]

LXXII.

And had it not been for some stray troops landing They knew not where, being carried by the stream To some spot, where they lost their understanding, And wandered up and down as in a dream, Until they reached, as daybreak was expanding, That which a portal to their eyes did seem,-- The great and gay Koutousow might have lain Where three parts of his column yet remain.[448]

LXXIII.

And scrambling round the rampart, these same troops, After the taking of the "Cavalier,"[449] Just as Koutousow's most "forlorn" of "hopes" Took, like chameleons, some slight tinge of fear, Opened the gate called "Kilia," to the groups[450] Of baffled heroes, who stood shyly near, Sliding knee-deep in lately frozen mud, Now thawed into a marsh of human blood.

LXXIV.

The Kozacks, or, if so you please, Cossacques-- (I don't much pique myself upon orthography, So that I do not grossly err in facts, Statistics, tactics, politics, and geography)-- Having been used to serve on horses' backs, And no great dilettanti in topography Of fortresses, but fighting where it pleases Their chiefs to order,--were all cut to pieces.[451]

LXXV.

Their column, though the Turkish batteries thundered Upon them, ne'ertheless had reached the rampart,[452] And naturally thought they could have plundered The city, without being farther hampered; But as it happens to brave men, they blundered-- The Turks at first pretended to have scampered, Only to draw them 'twixt two bastion corners,[453] From whence they sallied on those Christian scorners.

LXXVI.

Then being taken by the tail--a taking Fatal to bishops as to soldiers--these[ih] Cossacques were all cut off as day was breaking, And found their lives were let at a short lease-- But perished without shivering or shaking, Leaving as ladders their heaped carcasses, O'er which Lieutenant-Colonel Yesouskoi Marched with the brave battalion of Polouzki:--[454]

LXXVII.

This valiant man killed all the Turks he met, But could not eat them, being in his turn Slain by some Mussulmans,[455] who would not yet, Without resistance, see their city burn. The walls were won, but 't was an even bet Which of the armies would have cause to mourn: 'T was blow for blow, disputing inch by inch, For one would not retreat, nor 't other flinch.

LXXVIII.

Another column also suffered much:-- And here we may remark with the historian, You should but give few cartridges to such Troops as are meant to march with greatest glory on: When matters must be carried by the touch Of the bright bayonet, and they all should hurry on; They sometimes, with a hankering for existence, Keep merely firing at a foolish distance.[456]

LXXIX.

A junction of the General Meknop's men (Without the General, who had fallen some time Before, being badly seconded just then) Was made at length with those who dared to climb The death-disgorging rampart once again; And, though the Turk's resistance was sublime, They took the bastion, which the Seraskier Defended at a price extremely dear.[457]

LXXX.

Juan and Johnson, and some volunteers, Among the foremost, offered him good quarter, A word which little suits with Seraskiers, Or at least suited not this valiant Tartar. He died, deserving well his country's tears, A savage sort of military martyr: An English naval officer, who wished To make him prisoner, was also dished:

LXXXI.

For all the answer to his proposition Was from a pistol-shot that laid him dead;[458] On which the rest, without more intermission, Began to lay about with steel and lead-- The pious metals most in requisition On such occasions: not a single head Was spared;--three thousand Moslems perished here, And sixteen bayonets pierced the Seraskier.[459]

LXXXII.

The city's taken--only part by part-- And Death is drunk with gore: there's not a street Where fights not to the last some desperate heart For those for whom it soon shall cease to beat.[460] Here War forgot his own destructive art In more destroying Nature; and the heat Of Carnage, like the Nile's sun-sodden slime, Engendered monstrous shapes of every crime.

LXXXIII.

A Russian officer, in martial tread Over a heap of bodies, felt his heel Seized fast, as if 't were by the serpent's head Whose fangs Eve taught her human seed to feel; In vain he kicked, and swore, and writhed, and bled, And howled for help as wolves do for a meal-- The teeth still kept their gratifying hold, As do the subtle snakes described of old.[ii]

LXXXIV.

A dying Moslem, who had felt the foot Of a foe o'er him, snatched at it, and bit The very tendon which is most acute-- (That which some ancient Muse or modern wit Named after thee, Achilles!) and quite through 't He made the teeth meet, nor relinquished it Even with his life--for (but they lie) 't is said To the live leg still clung the severed head.

LXXXV.

However this may be, 't is pretty sure The Russian officer for life was lamed, For the Turk's teeth stuck faster than a skewer, And left him 'midst the invalid and maimed: The regimental surgeon could not cure His patient, and, perhaps, was to be blamed More than the head of the inveterate foe, Which was cut off, and scarce even then let go.

LXXXVI.

But then the fact's a fact--and 't is the part Of a true poet to escape from fiction Whene'er he can; for there is little art in leaving verse more free from the restriction Of Truth than prose, unless to suit the mart For what is sometimes called poetic diction, And that outrageous appetite for lies Which Satan angles with for souls, like flies.[ij]

LXXXVII.

The city's taken, but not rendered!--No! There's not a Moslem that hath yielded sword: The blood may gush out, as the Danube's flow Rolls by the city wall; but deed nor word Acknowledge aught of dread of Death or foe: In vain the yell of victory is roared By the advancing Muscovite--the groan Of the last foe is echoed by his own.

LXXXVIII.

The bayonet pierces and the sabre cleaves, And human lives are lavished everywhere, As the year closing whirls the scarlet leaves[ik] When the stripped forest bows to the bleak air, And groans; and thus the peopled city grieves, Shorn of its best and loveliest, and left bare; But still it falls in vast and awful splinters, As oaks blown down with all their thousand winters.

LXXXIX.

It is an awful topic--but 't is not My cue for any time to be terrific: For checkered as is seen our human lot With good, and bad, and worse, alike prolific Of melancholy merriment, to quote Too much of one sort would be soporific;-- Without, or with, offence to friends or foes, I sketch your world exactly as it goes.

XC.

And one good action in the midst of crimes Is "quite refreshing," in the affected phrase[461] Of these ambrosial, Pharisaic times, With all their pretty milk-and-water ways, And may serve therefore to bedew these rhymes, A little scorched at present with the blaze Of conquest and its consequences, which Make Epic poesy so rare and rich.

XCI.

Upon a taken bastion, where there lay Thousands of slaughtered men, a yet warm group Of murdered women, who had found their way To this vain refuge, made the good heart droop And shudder;--while, as beautiful as May, A female child of ten years tried to stoop And hide her little palpitating breast Amidst the bodies lulled in bloody rest.[462]

XCII.

Two villanous Cossacques pursued the child With flashing eyes and weapons: matched with them, The rudest brute that roams Siberia's wild Has feelings pure and polished as a gem,-- The bear is civilised, the wolf is mild; And whom for this at last must we condemn? Their natures? or their sovereigns, who employ All arts to teach their subjects to destroy?

XCIII.

Their sabres glittered o'er her little head, Whence her fair hair rose twining with affright, Her hidden face was plunged amidst the dead: When Juan caught a glimpse of this sad sight, I shall not say exactly what he said, Because it might not solace "ears polite;"[463] But what he did, was to lay on their backs, The readiest way of reasoning with Cossacques.

XCIV.

One's hip he slashed, and split the other's shoulder, And drove them with their brutal yells to seek If there might be chirurgeons who could solder The wounds they richly merited,[464] and shriek Their baffled rage and pain; while waxing colder As he turned o'er each pale and gory cheek, Don Juan raised his little captive from The heap a moment more had made her tomb.

XCV.

And she was chill as they, and on her face A slender streak of blood announced how near Her fate had been to that of all her race; For the same blow which laid her mother here Had scarred her brow, and left its crimson trace, As the last link with all she had held dear;[465] But else unhurt, she opened her large eyes, And gazed on Juan with a wild surprise.

XCVI.

Just at this instant, while their eyes were fixed Upon each other, with dilated glance, In Juan's look, pain, pleasure, hope, fear, mixed With joy to save, and dread of some mischance Unto his protégée; while hers, transfixed With infant terrors, glared as from a trance, A pure, transparent, pale, yet radiant face, Like to a lighted alabaster vase:--[466]

XCVII.

Up came John Johnson (I will not say "Jack," For that were vulgar, cold, and common-place On great occasions, such as an attack On cities, as hath been the present case): Up Johnson came, with hundreds at his back, Exclaiming--"Juan! Juan! On, boy! brace Your arm, and I'll bet Moscow to a dollar, That you and I will win St. George's collar.[467]

XCVIII.

"The Seraskier is knocked upon the head, But the stone bastion still remains, wherein The old Pacha sits among some hundreds dead, Smoking his pipe quite calmly 'midst the din Of our artillery and his own: 't is said Our killed, already piled up to the chin, Lie round the battery; but still it batters, And grape in volleys, like a vineyard, scatters.

XCIX.

"Then up with me!"--But Juan answered, "Look Upon this child--I saved her--must not leave Her life to chance; but point me out some nook Of safety, where she less may shrink and grieve, And I am with you."--Whereon Johnson took A glance around--and shrugged--and twitched his sleeve And black silk neckcloth--and replied, "You're right; Poor thing! what's to be done? I'm puzzled quite."

C.

Said Juan--"Whatsoever is to be Done, I'll not quit her till she seems secure Of present life a good deal more than we."-- Quoth Johnson--"Neither will I quite insure; But at the least you may die gloriously."-- Juan replied--" At least I will endure Whate'er is to be borne--but not resign This child, who is parentless, and therefore mine."

CI.

Johnson said--"Juan, we've no time to lose; The child's a pretty child--a very pretty-- I never saw such eyes--but hark! now choose Between your fame and feelings, pride and pity:-- Hark! how the roar increases!--no excuse Will serve when there is plunder in a city;-- I should be loath to march without you, but, By God! we'll be too late for the first cut."

CII.

But Juan was immovable; until Johnson, who really loved him in his way, Picked out amongst his followers with some skill Such as he thought the least given up to prey, And, swearing, if the infant came to ill That they should all be shot on the next day,-- But if she were delivered safe and sound, They should at least have fifty rubles round,

CIII.

And all allowances besides of plunder In fair proportion with their comrades;--then Juan consented to march on through thunder, Which thinned at every step their ranks of men: And yet the rest rushed eagerly--no wonder, For they were heated by the hope of gain, A thing which happens everywhere each day-- No hero trusteth wholly to half pay.

CIV.

And such is Victory, and such is Man! At least nine tenths of what we call so:--God May have another name for half we scan As human beings, or his ways are odd. But to our subject: a brave Tartar Khan-- Or "Sultan," as the author (to whose nod In prose I bend my humble verse) doth call This chieftain--somehow would not yield at all:

CV.

But flanked by five brave sons (such is polygamy, That she spawns warriors by the score, where none Are prosecuted for that false crime bigamy), He never would believe the city won While Courage clung but to a single twig.--Am I Describing Priam's, Peleus', or Jove's son? Neither--but a good, plain, old, temperate man, Who fought with his five children in the van.[468]

CVI.

To take him was the point.--The truly brave, When they behold the brave oppressed with odds, Are touched with a desire to shield and save;-- A mixture of wild beasts and demi-gods Are they--now furious as the sweeping wave, Now moved with pity: even as sometimes nods The rugged tree unto the summer wind, Compassion breathes along the savage mind.

CVII.

But he would not be taken, and replied To all the propositions of surrender By mowing Christians down on every side, As obstinate as Swedish Charles at Bender.[469] His five brave boys no less the foe defied; Whereon the Russian pathos grew less tender As being a virtue, like terrestrial patience,[il] Apt to wear out on trifling provocations.

CVIII.

And spite of Johnson and of Juan, who Expended all their Eastern phraseology In begging him, for God's sake, just to show So much less fight as might form an apology For them in saving such a desperate foe-- He hewed away, like Doctors of Theology When they dispute with sceptics; and with curses Struck at his friends, as babies beat their nurses.

CIX.

Nay, he had wounded, though but slightly, both Juan and Johnson; whereupon they fell, The first with sighs, the second with an oath, Upon his angry Sultanship, pell-mell, And all around were grown exceeding wroth At such a pertinacious infidel, And poured upon him and his sons like rain, Which they resisted like a sandy plain

CX.

That drinks and still is dry. At last they perished-- His second son was levelled by a shot; His third was sabred; and the fourth, most cherished Of all the five, on bayonets met his lot; The fifth, who, by a Christian mother nourished, Had been neglected, ill-used, and what not, Because deformed, yet died all game and bottom,[im] To save a Sire who blushed that he begot him.

CXI.

The eldest was a true and tameless Tartar, As great a scorner of the Nazarene As ever Mahomet picked out for a martyr, Who only saw the black-eyed girls in green, Who make the beds of those who won't take quarter On earth, in Paradise; and when once seen, Those houris, like all other pretty creatures, Do just whate'er they please, by dint of features.

CXII.

And what they pleased to do with the young Khan In Heaven I know not, nor pretend to guess; But doubtless they prefer a fine young man To tough old heroes, and can do no less;[in] And that's the cause no doubt why, if we scan A field of battle's ghastly wilderness, For one rough, weather-beaten, veteran body, You'll find ten thousand handsome coxcombs bloody.

CXIII.

Your houris also have a natural pleasure In lopping off your lately married men, Before the bridal hours have danced their measure And the sad, second moon grows dim again, Or dull Repentance hath had dreary leisure To wish him back a bachelor now and then: And thus your Houri (it may be) disputes Of these brief blossoms the immediate fruits.

CXIV.

Thus the young Khan, with Houris in his sight, Thought not upon the charms of four young brides, But bravely rushed on his first heavenly night. In short, howe'er our better faith derides, These black-eyed virgins make the Moslems fight, As though there were one Heaven and none besides-- Whereas, if all be true we hear of Heaven And Hell, there must at least be six or seven.

CXV.

So fully flashed the phantom on his eyes, That when the very lance was in his heart, He shouted "Allah!" and saw Paradise With all its veil of mystery drawn apart, And bright Eternity without disguise On his soul, like a ceaseless sunrise, dart:-- With Prophets--Houris--Angels--Saints, descried In one voluptuous blaze,--and then he died,--[io]

CXVI.

But with a heavenly rapture on his face. The good old Khan, who long had ceased to see Houris, or aught except his florid race, Who grew like cedars round him gloriously-- When he beheld his latest hero grace The earth, which he became like a felled tree, Paused for a moment from the fight, and cast A glance on that slain son, his first and last.

CXVII.

The soldiers, who beheld him drop his point, Stopped as if once more willing to concede Quarter, in case he bade them not "aroynt!" As he before had done. He did not heed Their pause nor signs: his heart was out of joint, And shook (till now unshaken) like a reed, As he looked down upon his children gone, And felt--though done with life--he was alone.[470]

CXVIII.

But 't was a transient tremor:--with a spring Upon the Russian steel his breast he flung, As carelessly as hurls the moth her wing Against the light wherein she dies: he clung Closer, that all the deadlier they might wring, Unto the bayonets which had pierced his young; And throwing back a dim look on his sons, In one wide wound poured forth his soul at once.

CXIX.

'T is strange enough--the rough, tough soldiers, who Spared neither sex nor age in their career Of carnage, when this old man was pierced through, And lay before them with his children near, Touched by the heroism of him they slew, Were melted for a moment; though no tear Flowed from their bloodshot eyes, all red with strife, They honoured such determined scorn of Life.

CXX.

But the stone bastion still kept up its fire, Where the chief Pacha calmly held his post: Some twenty times he made the Russ retire, And baffled the assaults of all their host; At length he condescended to inquire If yet the city's rest were won or lost; And being told the latter, sent a Bey To answer Ribas' summons to give way.[471]

CXXI.

In the mean time, cross-legged, with great sang-froid, Among the scorching ruins he sat smoking Tobacco on a little carpet;--Troy Saw nothing like the scene around;--yet looking With martial Stoicism, nought seemed to annoy His stern philosophy; but gently stroking His beard, he puffed his pipe's ambrosial gales, As if he had three lives, as well as tails.[472] CXXII.

The town was taken--whether he might yield Himself or bastion, little mattered now: His stubborn valour was no future shield. Ismail's no more! The Crescent's silver bow Sunk, and the crimson Cross glared o'er the field, But red with no redeeming gore: the glow Of burning streets, like moonlight on the water, Was imaged back in blood, the sea of slaughter.[ip]

CXXIII.

All that the mind would shrink from of excesses-- All that the body perpetrates of bad; All that we read--hear--dream, of man's distresses-- All that the Devil would do if run stark mad; All that defies the worst which pen expresses,-- All by which Hell is peopled, or as sad As Hell--mere mortals who their power abuse-- Was here (as heretofore and since) let loose.

CXXIV.

If here and there some transient trait of pity Was shown, and some more noble heart broke through Its bloody bond, and saved, perhaps, some pretty Child, or an agéd, helpless man or two-- What's this in one annihilated city, Where thousand loves, and ties, and duties grew? Cockneys of London! Muscadins of Paris! Just ponder what a pious pastime War is.[iq]

CXXV.

Think how the joys of reading a Gazette Are purchased by all agonies and crimes: Or if these do not move you, don't forget Such doom may be your own in after-times. Meantime the Taxes, Castlereagh, and Debt, Are hints as good as sermons, or as rhymes. Read your own hearts and Ireland's present story, Then feed her famine fat with Wellesley's glory.

CXXVI.

But still there is unto a patriot nation, Which loves so well its country and its King, A subject of sublimest exultation-- Bear it, ye Muses, on your brightest wing! Howe'er the mighty locust, Desolation, Strip your green fields, and to your harvests cling, Gaunt famine never shall approach the throne-- Though Ireland starve, great George weighs twenty stone.[473]

CXXVII.

But let me put an end unto my theme: There was an end of Ismail--hapless town! Far flashed her burning towers o'er Danube's stream, And redly ran his blushing waters down. The horrid war-whoop and the shriller scream Rose still; but fainter were the thunders grown: Of forty thousand who had manned the wall, Some hundreds breathed--the rest were silent all![474]

CXXVIII.

In one thing ne'ertheless 't is fit to praise The Russian army upon this occasion, A virtue much in fashion now-a-days, And therefore worthy of commemoration:[ir] The topic's tender, so shall be my phrase-- Perhaps the season's chill, and their long station In Winter's depth, or want of rest and victual, Had made them chaste;--they ravished very little.

CXXIX.

Much did they slay, more plunder, and no less Might here and there occur some violation In the other line;--but not to such excess As when the French, that dissipated nation, Take towns by storm: no causes can I guess, Except cold weather and commiseration;[is] But all the ladies, save some twenty score, Were almost as much virgins as before.

CXXX.

Some odd mistakes, too, happened in the dark, Which showed a want of lanterns, or of taste-- Indeed the smoke was such they scarce could mark Their friends from foes,--besides such things from haste Occur, though rarely, when there is a spark Of light to save the venerably chaste: But six old damsels, each of seventy years, Were all deflowered by different grenadiers.

CXXXI.

But on the whole their continence was great; So that some disappointment there ensued To those who had felt the inconvenient state Of "single blessedness," and thought it good (Since it was not their fault, but only fate, To bear these crosses) for each waning prude To make a Roman sort of Sabine wedding, Without the expense and the suspense of bedding.

CXXII.

Some voices of the buxom middle-aged Were also heard to wonder in the din (Widows of forty were these birds long caged) "Wherefore the ravishing did not begin!" But while the thirst for gore and plunder raged, There was small leisure for superfluous sin; But whether they escaped or no, lies hid In darkness--I can only hope they did.

CXXXIII.

Suwarrow now was conqueror--a match For Timour or for Zinghis in his trade. While mosques and streets, beneath his eyes, like thatch Blazed, and the cannon's roar was scarce allayed, With bloody hands he wrote his first despatch; And here exactly follows what he said:-- "Glory to God and to the Empress!" (_Powers Eternal! such names mingled!_) "Ismail's ours."[475]

CXXXIV.

Methinks these are the most tremendous words, Since "MENE, MENE, TEKEL," and "UPHARSIN," Which hands or pens have ever traced of swords. Heaven help me! I'm but little of a parson: What Daniel read was short-hand of the Lord's, Severe, sublime; the prophet wrote no farce on The fate of nations;--but this Russ so witty Could rhyme, like Nero, o'er a burning city.

CXXXV.

He wrote this Polar melody, and set it, Duly accompanied by shrieks and groans, Which few will sing, I trust, but none forget it-- For I will teach, if possible, the stones To rise against Earth's tyrants. Never let it Be said that we still truckle unto thrones;-- But ye--our children's children! think how we Showed what things were before the World was free!

CXXXVI.

That hour is not for us, but 't is for you: And as, in the great joy of your Millennium, You hardly will believe such things were true As now occur, I thought that I would pen you 'em; But may their very memory perish too!-- Yet if perchance remembered, still disdain you 'em More than you scorn the savages of yore, Who painted their bare limbs, but not with gore.

CXXXVII.

And when you hear historians talk of thrones, And those that sate upon them, let it be As we now gaze upon the mammoth's bones, And wonder what old world such things could see, Or hieroglyphics on Egyptian stones, The pleasant riddles of futurity-- Guessing at what shall happily be hid, As the real purpose of a pyramid.

CXXXVIII.

Reader! I have kept my word,--at least so far As the first Canto promised. You have now Had sketches of Love--Tempest--Travel--War,-- All very accurate, you must allow, And Epic, if plain truth should prove no bar; For I have drawn much less with a long bow Than my forerunners. Carelessly I sing, But Phoebus lends me now and then a string,

CXXXIX.

With which I still can harp, and carp, and fiddle. What further hath befallen or may befall The hero of this grand poetic riddle, I by and by may tell you, if at all: But now I choose to break off in the middle, Worn out with battering Ismail's stubborn wall, While Juan is sent off with the despatch, For which all Petersburgh is on the watch.

CXL.

This special honour was conferred, because He had behaved with courage and humanity-- Which last men like, when they have time to pause From their ferocities produced by vanity. His little captive gained him some applause For saving her amidst the wild insanity Of carnage,--and I think he was more glad in her Safety, than his new order of St. Vladimir.

CXLI.

The Moslem orphan went with her protector, For she was homeless, houseless, helpless; all Her friends, like the sad family of Hector, Had perished in the field or by the wall: Her very place of birth was but a spectre Of what it had been; there the Muezzin's call To prayer was heard no more!--and Juan wept, And made a vow to shield her, which he kept.

FOOTNOTES:

{331}[412] ["La nuit était obscure; un brouillard épais ne nous permettait de distinguer autre chose que le feu de notre artillerie, dont l'horizon était embrasé de tous côtés: ce feu, partant du milieu du Danube, se réfléchissait sur les eaux, et offrait un coup d'oeil très-singulier."-Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie, ii. 209.]

{332}[413] ["À peine eut-on parcouru l'espace de quelques toises au-delà des batteries, que les Turcs, qui n'avaient point tiré pendant toute la nuit s'apperçevant de nos mouvemens, commencèrent de leur côté un feu très-vif, qui embrasa le reste de l'horizon: mais ce fut bien autre chose lorsque, avancés davantage, le feu de la mousqueterie commença dans toute l'étendue du rempart que nous appercevions. Ce fut alors que la place parut à nos yeux comme un volcan dont le feu sortait de toutes parts."-Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie, ii. 209.]

[414] ["Un cri universel d'allah, qui se répétait tout autour de la ville, vint encore rendre plus extraordinaire cet instant, dont il est impossible de se faire une idée."--Ibid., p. 209.]

[415] Allah Hu! is properly the war-cry of the Mussulmans, and they dwell on the last syllable, which gives it a wild and peculiar effect.

[See The Giaour, line 734, Poetical Works, 1900, iii. 120, note 1; see, too, Siege of Corinth, line 713, ibid., p. 481.]

[416] ["Toutes les colonnes étaient en mouvement; celles qui attaquaient par eau commandées par le général Arséniew, essuyèrent un feu épouvantable, et perdirent avant le jour un tiers de leurs officiers."--Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie, ii. 209.]

[417]

"But Thy[*] most dreaded instrument, In working out a pure intent, Is Man--arrayed for mutual slaughter,-- Yea, Carnage is thy daughter!"

Wordsworth's Thanksgiving Ode (January 18, 1816), stanza xii. lines 20, 23.

[*]To wit, the Deity's: this is perhaps as pretty a pedigree for murder as ever was found out by Garter King at Arms.--What would have been said, had any free-spoken people discovered such a lineage?

[Wordsworth omitted the lines in the last edition of his poems, which was revised by his own hand.]

{333}[ia] The Duc de Richelieu----.--[MS. erased.]

[418] ["Le Prince de Ligne fut blessé au genou; le Duc de Richelieu eut une balle entre le fond de son bonnet et sa tête."--Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie, ii. 210.

For the gallantry of Prince Charles de Ligne (died September 14, 1792) eldest son of Prince Charles Joseph de Ligne (1735-1814), see The Prince de Ligne, 1899, ii. 46.

Armand Emanuel du Plessis, Duc de Richelieu, born 1767, a grandson of Louis François Duc de Richelieu, the Marshal of France (1696-1780), served under Catherine II., and afterwards under the Czar Paul. On the restoration of Louis XVIII. he entered the King's household; and after the battle of Waterloo took office as President of the Council and Minister for Foreign Affairs. His Journal de mon Voyage en Allemagne, which was then unpublished, was placed at the disposal of the Marquis de Castelnau (see Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie, 1827, i. 241). It has been printed in full by the Société Impériale d'Histoire de Russie, 1886, tom. liv. pp. 111-198. See for further mention of the manuscript, Le Duc de Richelieu, par Raoul de Cisternes, 1898, Preface, p. 3, note 1. He died May 17, 1822, two months before Cantos VI., VII., VIII. were completed.]

{334}[419] ["Le brigadier Markow, insistant pour qu'on emportât le prince blessé, reçut un coup de fusil qui lui fracassa le pied."--Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie, ii. 210.]

[420] ["Trois cents bouches à feu vomissaient sans interruption, et trente mille fusils alimentaient sans reláche une grêle de balles."--Ibid., p. 210.]

{335}[421] ["Les troupes, déja débarquées, se portèrent á droite pour s'emparer d'une batterie; et celles débarquées plus bas, principalement composées des grenadiers de Fanagorie, escaladaient le retranchement et la palissade."--Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie, ii. 210.]

[422] A fact: see the Waterloo Gazettes. I recollect remarking at the time to a friend:--"There is fame! a man is killed, his name is Grose, and they print it Grove." I was at college with the deceased, who was a very amiable and clever man, and his society in great request for his wit, gaiety, and "Chansons à boire."

[In the London Gazette Extraordinary of June 22, 1815, Captain Grove, 1st Guards, is among the list of killed. In the supplement to the London Gazette, published July 3, 1815, the mistake was corrected, and the entry runs, "1st Guards, 3d Batt. Lieut. Edward Grose, (Captain)." I am indebted to the courtesy of the Registrar of the University of Cambridge for the information that Edward Grose matriculated at St. John's College as a pensioner, December 7, 1805. Thanks to the "misprint" in the Gazette, and to Byron, he is "a name for ever."--Vir nullâ non donatus lauru!]

{337}[423] [At the Battle of Mollwitz, April 10, 1741, "the king vanishes for sixteen hours into the regions of Myth 'into Fairyland,' ... of the king's flight ... the king himself, who alone could have told us fully, maintained always rigorous silence, and nowhere drops the least hint. So that the small fact has come down to us involved in a great bulk of fabulous cobwebs, mostly of an ill-natured character, set a-going by Voltaire, Valori, and others."--Carlyle's Frederick the Great, 1862, iii. 314, 322, sq.]

[424] See General Valancey and Sir Lawrence Parsons.

[Charles Vallancey (1721-1812), general in the Royal Engineers, published an "Essay on the Celtic Language," etc., in 1782. "The language [the Iberno-Celtic]," he writes (p. 4), "we are now going to explain, had such an affinity with the Punic, that it may be said to have been, in a great degree, the language of Hanibal (sic), Hamilcar, and of Asdrubal." Sir Laurence Parsons (1758-1841), second Earl of Rosse, represented the University of Dublin 1782-90, and afterwards King's County, in the Irish House of Commons. He was an opponent of the Union. In a pamphlet entitled Defence of the Antient History of Ireland, published in 1795, he maintains (p. 158) "that the Carthaginian and the Irish language being originally the same, either the Carthaginians must have been descended from the Irish, or the Irish from the Carthaginians."]

{338}[425] The Portuguese proverb says that "hell is paved with good intentions."--[See Vision of Judgment, stanza xxxvii. line 8, Poetical Works, 1901, iv. 499, note 2.]

[ib] At least the sharp faints of that "burning marle."--[MS. erased.]

{339}[426] ["The Nervii marched to the number of sixty thousand, and fell upon Cæsar, as he was fortifying his camp, and had not the least notion of so sudden an attack. They first routed his cavalry, and then surrounded the twelfth and the seventh legions, and killed all the officers. Had not Cæsar snatched a buckler from one of his own men, forced his way through the combatants before him, and rushed upon the barbarians; or had not the tenth legion, seeing his danger, ran from the heights where they were posted, and mowed down the enemy's ranks, not one Roman would have survived the battle."--Plutarch, Cæsar, Langhorne's translation, 1838, p. 502.]

[427] ["As near a field of corn, a stubborn ass ... E'en so great Ajax son of Telamon."

The Iliad, Lord Derby's translation, bk. xi. lines 639, 645.]

{339}[ic] Nor care a single damn about his corps.--[MS. erased.]

[428] ["N'apercevant plus le commandant du corps dont je faisais partie, et ignorant où je devais porter mes pas, je crus reconnaître le lieu où le rempart était situé; on y faisait un feu assez vif, que je jugeai être celui ... du général-major de Lascy."--Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie, ii. 210. The speaker is the Duc de Richelieu. See, for original, his Journal de mon Voyage, etc., Soc. Imp. d'Hist. de Russie, tom. liv. p. 179]

[id] For he was dizzy, busy, and his blood Lightening along his veins, and where he heard The liveliest fire, and saw the fiercest flood Of Friar Bacon's mild discovery, shared By Turks and Christians equally, he could No longer now resist the attraction of gunpowder But flew to where the merry orchestra played louder.--[MS. erased.]

[429] Gunpowder is said to have been discovered by this friar. [N.B. Though Friar Bacon seems to have discovered gunpowder, he had the humanity not to record his discovery in intelligible language.]

{341}[ie] ---- whose short breath, and long faces Kept always pushing onwards to the Glacis.--[MS. erased.]

{342}[430] [I Henry IV., act iii. sc. 1, line 53.]

[if] And that mechanic impulse----.--[MS. erased.]

[431] [Hamlet, act iii, sc. 1, lines 79, 80.]

{343}[432] ["Talus: the slope or inclination of a wall, whereby, reclining at the top so as to fall within its base, the thickness is gradually lessened according to the height."--Milit. Dict.]

[433] ["Appelant ceux des chasseurs qui étaient autour de moi en assez grand nombre, je m'avançai et reconnus ne m'être point trompé dans mon calcul; c'était en effet cette colonne qui à l'instant parvenait au sommet du rempart. Les Turcs de derrière les travers et les flancs des bastions voisins fasaient sur elle un feu très-vif de canon et de mousqueterie. Je gravis, avec les gens qui m'avaient suivi, le talus intérieur du rempart."--Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie, ii. 210.]

{344}[434] [Baron Menno van Coehoorn (circ. 1641-1704), a Dutch military engineer, the contemporary and rival of Vauban, invented a mortar which bore his name. He was the author of a celebrated work on fortification, published in 1692.]

[435] ["Ce fut dans cet instant que je reconnus combien l'ignorance du constructeur des palissades était importante pour nous; car, comme elles étaient placées au milieu du parapet," etc.--Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie, ii. 211.]

[436] They were but two feet above the level.--[MS.]

["Il y avait de chaque côté neuf à dix pieds sur lesquels on pouvait marcher; et les soldats, après être montés, avaient pu se ranger commodément sur l'espace extérieur et enjamber ensuite les palissades, qui ne s'élevaient que d'à-peu-près deux pieds au-dessus du niveau de la terre."--Ibid., p. 211.]

{345}[437] [Friederich Wilhelm, Baron von Bülow (1755-1816), was in command of the 4th corps of the Prussian Army at Waterloo. August Wilhelm Antonius Neidhart von Gneisenau (1760-1831) was chief of staff, and after Blücher was disabled by a fall at Ligny, assumed temporary command, June 16-17, 1815. He headed the triumphant pursuit of the French on the night of the battle. For Blücher's official account of the battles of Ligny and Waterloo (subscribed by Gneisenau), see W.H. Maxwell's Life of the Duke of Wellington, 1841, iii. 566-571; and for Wellington's acknowledgment of Blücher's "cordial and timely assistance," see Dispatches, 1847, viii. 150. See, too, The Life of Wellington, by the Right Hon. Sir Herbert Maxwell, Bart., 1899, ii. 88, et passim.]

{346}[ig] ---- as feminine of feature.--[MS.]

Led him on--although he was the gentlest creature, As kind in heart as feminine of feature.--[MS. erased.]

{347}[438] [Pistol's "Bezonian" is a corruption of bisognoso--a rogue, needy fellow. Byron, quoting from memory, confuses two passages. In 2 Henry VI., act iv. sc. 1, line 134, Suffolk says, "Great men oft die of vile bezonians;" in 2 Henry IV., act v. sc. 3, line 112, Pistol says, "Under which King, Besonian? speak or die."]

[439] ["Le Général Lascy, voyant arriver un corps, si à-propos à son secours, s'avança vers l'officier qui l'avait conduit, et, le prenant pour un Livonien, lui fit, en allemand, les complimens les plus flatteurs; le jeune militaire (le Duc de Richelieu) qui parlait parfaitement cette langue, y répondit avec sa modestie ordinaire."-Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie, ii. 211.]

{348}[440] [The Task, bk. i. line 749. It was pointed out to Cowper that the same thought had been expressed by Isaac Hawkins Browne, in The Fire-side, a Pastoral Soliloquy, lines 15, 16 (Poems, ed. 1768, p. 125)--

"I have said it at home, I have said it abroad, That the town is Man's world, but that this is of God."

There is a parallel passage in M.T. Varro, Rerum Rusticarum, lib. iii. I. 4, "Nee minim, quod divina natura dedit agros, ars humami aedificavit urbes."--See The Task, etc., ed. by H.T. Griffith, 1896, ii. 234.]

[441] [Sulla spoke of himself as the "fortunate," and in the twenty-second book of his Commentaries, finished only two days before his death, "he tells us that the Chaldeans had predicted, that after a life of glory he would depart in the height of his prosperity." He was fortunate, too, with regard to his funeral, for, at first, a brisk wind blew which fanned the pile into flame, and it was not till the fire had begun to die out that the rain, which had been expected throughout the day, began to fall in torrents.--Langhorne's Plutarch, 1838, pp. 334, 335. See, too, Ode to Napoleon Buonaparte, stanza vii. Poetical Works, 1900, in. 308, note I.]

[442] [Daniel Boone (1735-1820) was the grandson of an English settler, George Boone, of Exeter. His great work in life was the conquest of Kentucky. Following in the steps of another pioneer, John Finley, he left his home in North Carolina in May, 1769, and, after numerous adventures, effected a settlement on the Kentucky river. He constructed a fort, which he named Boonesborough, and carried on a protracted campaign with varying but final success against the Indians. When Kentucky was admitted into the Union, February 4, 1791, he failed to make good his title to his property at Boonesborough, and withdrew to Mount Pleasant, beyond the Ohio. Thence, in 1795, he removed to Missouri, then a Spanish possession. Napoleon wrested Missouri from the Spaniards, only to sell the territory to the United States, with the result that in 1810 he was confirmed in the possession of 850 out of the 8000 acres which he had acquired in 1795. "Boone was then seventy-five years of age, hale and strong. The charm of the hunter's life clung to him to the last, and in his eighty-second year he went on a hunting excursion to the mouth of the Kansas river."--Appleton's Encyclopedia, etc., art. "Boone." His fine and gracious nature reveals itself in his autobiography (The Adventures of Colonel Daniel Boon, Formerly a Hunter; Containing a Narrative of the Wars of Kentucky; Imlay's North America, 1793, ii. 52-54). "One day," he writes (pp. 330, sq.), "I undertook a tour through the country, and the diversity and beauties of nature ... expelled every gloomy and vexatious thought. Just at the close of day the gentle gales retired, and left the place to the disposal of a profound calm. Not a breeze shook the most tremulous leaf. I had gained the summit of a commanding ridge, and, looking round with astonishing delight, beheld the ample plains, the beauteous tracts below. On the other hand, I surveyed the famous river Ohio, that rolled in silent dignity, marking the western boundary of Kentucky with inconceivable grandeur. ... All things were still. I kindled a fire near a fountain of sweet water, and feasted on the loins of a buck, which a few hours before I had killed.... No populous city, with all the varieties of commerce and stately structures, could afford so much pleasure to my mind as the beauties of nature I found here." (See, too, The Kentucky Pioneers, by John Brown, Harper's New Monthly Magazine, 1887, vol. lxxv. pp. 48-71.)]

{350}[443] [For John Kyrle, "the Man of Ross" (1635-1724), see Pope's Moral Essays, epist. iii. lines 249-284. See, too, Letters of S.T. Coleridge, 1895 (letter to R. Southey, July 13, 1794), i. 77.]

{351}[444] [Byron seems to have derived his knowledge of Catherine's vie intime from the Mémoires Secrets sur la Russie, of C.F.P. Masson, which were published in Amsterdam in 1800, and translated into English in the same year.]

[445] [Michailo Smolenskoi Koutousof (1743-1813), who was raised to eminence through the influence of Potemkin, was in command of the Austro-Russian Army at Austerlitz. During the retreat from Moscow he repulsed Napoleon at Malo-yaroslavetz, and pursued the French to Kalisz. Tolstoi introduces Koutousof in his novel, War and Peace, and dwells on his fatalism.]

{352}[446] ["Parmi les colonnes, une de celles qui souffrirent le plus était commandée par le général Koutouzow (aujourd'hui Prince de Smolensko). Ce brave militaire réunit l'intrépidité à un grand nombre de connaissances acquises; il marche au feu avec la même gaîeté qu'il va à une fête; il sait commander avec autant de sang froid qu'il déploie d'esprit et d'amabilité dans le commerce habituel de la vie."--Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie, ii. 212.]

[447] ["Ce brave Koutouzow se jeta dans le fossé, fut suivi des siens, et ne pénétra jusqu'au haut du parapet qu'après avoir éprouvé des difficultés incroyables. (Le brigadier de Ribaupierre perdit la vie dans cette occasion: il avail fixé l'estime générale, et sa mort occasionna beaucoup de regrets.) Les Turcs accoururent en grand nombre; cette multitude repoussa deux fois le général jusqu'au fossé."--Ibid., p. 212.]

[448] ["Quelques troupes russes, emportées par le courant, n'ayant pu débarquer sur le terrain qu'on leur avait prescrit," etc.--Ibid., p. 213.]

[449] ["A 'Cavalier' is an elevation of earth, situated ordinarily in the gorge of a bastion, bordered with a parapet, and cut into more or fewer embrasures, according to its capacity."--Milit. Dict.]

{353}[450] [" ... longèrent le rempart, après la prise du cavalier, et ouvrirent la porte dite de Kilia aux soldats du général Koutouzow."--Hist, de la Nouvelle Russie, ii. 213.]

[451] ["Il était réservé aux Kozaks de combler de leurs corps la partie du fossé où ils combattaient; leur colonne avail été divisée entre MM. Platow et d'Orlow ..."--Ibid., p. 213.]

[452] [" ... la première partie, devant se joindre à la gauche du général Arséniew, fut foudroyée par le feu des batteries, et parvint néanmoins au haut du rempart."--Ibid., p. 213.]

[453] ["Les Turcs la laissèrent un peu s'avancer, dans la ville, et firent deux sorties par les angles saillans des bastions."--Ibid., p. 213.]

[ih] Fatal to warriors as to women--these.--[MS.]

{354}[454] ["Alors, se trouvant prise en queue, elle fut écrasée; cependant le Lieutenant-colonel Yesouskoï, qui commandait la réserve composée d'un bataillon du régiment de Polozk, traversa le fossé sur les cadavres des Kozaks ..."--Hist. de la Nouvell Russia, ii. 212.]

[455] [" ... et extermina tous les Turcs qu'il eut en tête: ce brave homme fut tué pendant l'action."--Ibid., p. 213.]

[456] ["L'autre partie des Kozaks, qu' Orlow commandait, souffrit de la manière la plus cruelle: elle attaqua à maintes reprises, fut souvent repoussée, et perdit les deux tiers de son monde (c'est ici le lieu de placer une observation, que nous prenons dans les mémoires qui nous guident; elle fait remarquer combien il est raal vu de donner beaucoup de cartouches aux soldats qui doivent emporter un poste de vive force, et par conséquent où la baïonnette doit principalement agir; ils pensent ne devoir se servir de cette derniere arme, que lorsque les cartouches sont epuisées: dans cette persuasion, ils retardent leur marche, et restent plus long-temps exposés au canon et à la mitraille de l'ennemi)."--Ibid., p. 214.]

{355}[457] ["La jonction de la colonne de Meknop--(le général fut nial secondé et tué)--ne put s'effectuer avec celle qui l'avoisinait, ... ces colonnes attaquèrent un bastion, et éprouvèrent une résistance opiniâtre; raais bientôt des cris de victoire se font entendre de toutes parts, et le bastion est emporté: le séraskier défendait cette partie."--Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie, ii. 214.]

[458] [" ... un officier de marine Anglais veut le faire prisonnier, et reçoit un coup de pistolet qui l'étend roide mort."--Ibid., p. 214.]

[459] ["Les Russes passent trois mille Turcs au fil de l'épée; seize baïonnettes percent à la fois le séraskier."--Ibid., p. 214.]

[460] ["La ville est emportée; l'image de la mort et de la désolation se représente de tous les côtés le soldat furieux n'écoute plus la voix de ses officiers, il ne respire que le carnage; altéré de sang, tout est indifférent pour lui."--Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie, ii. 214.]

{356}[ii] As do the subtle snake's denounced of old.--[MS.]

{357}[ij] Which most of all doth man characterise.--[MS. Alternative reading.]

[ik] As Autumn winds disperse the yellow leaves.--[MS. erased.]

[461] [See The Blues, ecl. i. line 25, Poetical Works, 1901, iv. 574, note 3.]

{358}[462] ["Je sauvai la vie à une fille de dix ans, don't l'innocence et la candeur formaient un contraste bien frappant avec la rage de tout ce qui m'environnait. En arrivant sur le bastion où commença le carnage, j'aperçus un groupe de quatre femmes égorgées, entre lesquelles cet enfant, d'une figure charmante, cherchait un asile contre la fureur de deux Kozaks qui étaient sur le point de la massacrer,"--Duc de Richelieu. (See Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie, ii. 217.)]

[463] ["Who never mentions Hell to ears polite."--Pope, Moral Essays, ep. iv, line 150.]

{359}[464] ["Ce spectacle m'attira bientôt, et je n'hésitai pas, comme on peut le croire, à prendre entre mes bras cette infortunée, que les barbares voulaient y poursuivre encore. J'eus bien de la peine à me retenir et à ne pas percer ces misérables du sabre que je tenais suspendu sur leur tête:--je me contentai cependant de les éloigner, non sans leur prodiguer les coups et les injures qu'ils méritaient...."--Duc de Richelieu, vide Hist, de la Nouvelle Russie, ii. 217.]

[465] [" ... J'eus le plaisir d'apercevoir que ma petite prisonnière n'avait d'autre mal qu'une coupure legere que lui avail faite au visage le même fer qui avail percé sa mére."--Duc de Richelieu, ibid.

The Turks clamoured for the child, and Richelieu was forced to give way. But in the original the story ends unhappily.

"Je fus obligé de céder á leurs instances et á celles de l'officier qui parlementait avec eux; ... ce ne fut pas sans de grandes difficultés et sans une promesse expresse de la parl de cet officier [Colonel Ribas] de me la faire rendre aussitôt que les Tures auraient mis bas les armes. Je me séparai donc de cet enfant qui m'était déjà devenu très-cher, et même a présent, je ne puis penser á ce moment sans amertume, puisque malgré toutes les recherches et les peines que je me donnai pour la retrouver, il me fut impossible d'y réussir, el je n'ai que trop sujet de craindre qu'elle n'ait péri malheureusement."--Société Impériale d'Histoire de Russie, tom. liv. p. 185.]

{360}[466] [Sir Walter Scott (Quarterly Review, October, 1816, vol. xvi. p. 177) says that a "brother-poet" compared Byron's features to the sculpture of a beautiful alabaster vase, only seen to perfection when lighted up from within. Byron alludes to this comparison in his Detached Thoughts, October 15, 1821, Letters, 1901, v. 408. It may be noted that Lorenzo Bartolini, the Italian sculptor who took a bust of Byron at Pisa, in the spring of 1822, had been employed by Napoleon, in 1814, to design marble vases for a terrace at Elba, which were to be illuminated at night "from within."]

[467] A Russian military order.

{362}[468] ["Le sultan périt dans l'action en brave homme, digne d'un meilleur destin; ce fut lui qui rallia les Turcs lorsque l'ennemi pénétra dans la place ... ce sultan, d'une valeur éprouvée, surpassait en générosité les plus civilisés de sa nation; cinq de ses fils combattaient à ses côtés, il les encourageait par son exemple."--Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie, ii. 215.]

[469] ["When Charles XII. reached Bender, August 1, 1709, he refused, in the first instance, to cross the river Dniester, and on yielding to the representations of the Turks, he declined to enter the town, but decided on remaining encamped on an island, in spite of the assurances of the inhabitants that it was occasionally flooded." But, perhaps, Byron had in mind Voltaire's remarks on Charles's Opiniâtreté. (See Histoire de Charles XII., 1772, p. 377. See, too, Charles XII., by Oscar Browning, 1899, pp. 231-234.)]

[il]---- like celestial patience.--[MS. erased.]

[im] Because a hunchback----.--[MS. erased.]

{364}[in] In battle to old age and ugliness.--[MS. erased.]

{365}[io] In one immortal glance, and then he died.--[MS. erased]

[470] ["Tous cinq furent tous tués sous ces yeux: il ne cessa point de se battre, répondit par des coups de sabre aux propositions de se rendre, et ne fut atteint du coup mortel qu'après avoir abattu de sa main beaucoup de Kozaks des plus acharnée à sa prise; le reste de sa troupe fut massacré."--Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie, ii. 215.]

{366}[471] ["Quoique les Russes fussent répandus dans la ville, le bastion de pierre résistait encore; il était défendu par un vicillard, pacha à trois queues, et commandant les forces réunies à Ismaël. On lui proposa une capitulation; il demanda si le reste de la ville était conquis; sur cette réponse, il autorisa quelques-uns de ces officiers à capituler avec M. de Ribas."--Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie, ii. 215.]

[472] ["Pendant ce colloque, il resta étendu sur des tapis placés sur les ruines de la forteresse, fumant sa pipe avec la même tranquillité et la même indifférence que s'il eût été étranger à tout ce qui se passait."--Ibid., p. 215.]

{367}[ip] Of burning cities, those full moons of slaughter Was imaged back in blood instead of water.--[MS. Alternative reading.]

[iq] Would you do less, "pro focis et pro aris"?--[MS. erased.]

{368}[473] [Compare--

"Spread--spread for Vitellius, the royal repast, Till the gluttonous despot be stuffed to the gorge!"

The Irish Avatar, stanza 20, Poetical Works, 1891, iv. 559.]

[474] ["On égorgea indistinctement, on saccagea la place; et la rage du vainqueur ... se répandit comme un torrent furieux qui a renversé les digues qui le rétenaient: personne obtint de grâce, et trente huit mille huit cent soixante Turcs périrent dans cette journée de sang."--Hist. de la Nouvelle Russie, ii. 216.]

[ir]---- of my peroration.--[MS. erased.]

{369}[is] ---- the cause I cannot guess-- I hardly think it was commiseration.--[MS. erased.]

{370}[475] In the original Russian--

"Slava bogu! slava vam! Krépost vzata i ya tam;"

a kind of couplet; for he was a poet.

[J.H. Castéra (Vie de Catherine II., 1797, ii. 374) relates this incident in connection with the fall of Turtukey (or Tutrakaw) in Bulgaria, giving the words in French, "Gloire à Dieu! Louange à Catherine! Toutoukai est pris. Souwaroff y est entré." W. Tooke (Life of Catherine II., 1800, iii. 278). Castéra's translator, gives the original Russian with an English version. But according to Spalding (Suvóroff, 1890, pp. 42, 43), the words, which were written on a scrap of paper, and addressed to Soltikoff, ran thus: "Your Excellency, we have conquered. Glory to God! Glory to you! Alexander Suvóroff." When Ismail was taken he wrote to Potemkin, "The Russian standard floats above the walls of Ismail," and to the Empress, "Proud Ismail lies at your Majesty's feet." The tenour of the poetical message on the fall of Tutrakaw recalls the triumphant piety of the Emperor William I. of Germany. See, too, for "mad Suwarrow's rhymes," Canto IX. stanza lx. lines 1-4.]

CANTO THE NINTH.

I.[476]

Oh, Wellington! (or "Villainton"[477]--for Fame[it] Sounds the heroic syllables both ways; France could not even conquer your great name, But punned it down to this facetious phrase-- Beating or beaten she will laugh the same,) You have obtained great pensions and much praise: Glory like yours should any dare gainsay, Humanity would rise, and thunder "Nay!"[478]

II.

I don't think that you used Kinnaird quite well In Marinèt's affair[479]--in fact, 't was shabby, And like some other things won't do to tell Upon your tomb in Westminster's old Abbey. Upon the rest 't is not worth while to dwell, Such tales being for the tea-hours of some tabby;[480] But though your years as man tend fast to zero, In fact your Grace is still but a young Hero.

III.

Though Britain owes (and pays you too) so much, Yet Europe doubtless owes you greatly more: You have repaired Legitimacy's crutch, A prop not quite so certain as before: The Spanish, and the French, as well as Dutch, Have seen, and felt, how strongly you restore; And Waterloo has made the world your debtor (I wish your bards would sing it rather better).

IV.

You are "the best of cut-throats:"[481]--do not start; The phrase is Shakespeare's, and not misapplied:-- War's a brain-spattering, windpipe-slitting art, Unless her cause by right be sanctified. If you have acted once a generous part, The World, not the World's masters, will decide, And I shall be delighted to learn who, Save you and yours, have gained by Waterloo?

V.

I am no flatterer--you've supped full of flattery:[482] They say you like it too--'t is no great wonder. He whose whole life has been assault and battery, At last may get a little tired of thunder; And swallowing eulogy much more than satire, he May like being praised for every lucky blunder, Called "Saviour of the Nations"--not yet saved,-- And "Europe's Liberator"--still enslaved.[483]

VI.

I've done. Now go and dine from off the plate Presented by the Prince of the Brazils, And send the sentinel before your gate A slice or two from your luxurious meals:[484] He fought, but has not fed so well of late. Some hunger, too, they say the people feels:-- There is no doubt that you deserve your ration, But pray give back a little to the nation.

VII.

I don't mean to reflect--a man so great as You, my lord Duke! is far above reflection: The high Roman fashion, too, of Cincinnatus, With modern history has but small connection: Though as an Irishman you love potatoes, You need not take them under your direction; And half a million for your Sabine farm Is rather dear!--I'm sure I mean no harm.

VIII.

Great men have always scorned great recompenses: Epaminondas saved his Thebes, and died, Not leaving even his funeral expenses:[485] George Washington had thanks, and nought beside, Except the all-cloudless glory (which few men's is) To free his country: Pitt too had his pride, And as a high-souled Minister of state is Renowned for ruining Great Britain gratis.[486]

IX.

Never had mortal man such opportunity, Except Napoleon, or abused it more: You might have freed fallen Europe from the unity Of Tyrants, and been blest from shore to shore: And now--what is your fame? Shall the Muse tune it ye? Now--that the rabble's first vain shouts are o'er? Go! hear it in your famished country's cries! Behold the World! and curse your victories!

X.

As these new cantos touch on warlike feats, To you the unflattering Muse deigns to inscribe[iu] Truths, that you will not read in the Gazettes, But which 't is time to teach the hireling tribe Who fatten on their country's gore, and debts, Must be recited--and without a bribe. You did great things, but not being great in mind, Have left undone the greatest--and mankind.

XI.

Death laughs--Go ponder o'er the skeleton With which men image out the unknown thing That hides the past world, like to a set sun Which still elsewhere may rouse a brighter spring-- Death laughs at all you weep for!--look upon This hourly dread of all! whose threatened sting Turns Life to terror, even though in its sheath: Mark! how its lipless mouth grins without breath!

XII.

Mark! how it laughs and scorns at all you are! And yet was what you are; from ear to ear It laughs not--there is now no fleshy bar So called; the Antic long hath ceased to hear, But still he smiles; and whether near or far, He strips from man that mantle (far more dear Than even the tailor's), his incarnate skin,[iv] White, black, or copper--the dead bones will grin.

XIII.

And thus Death laughs,--it is sad merriment, But still it is so; and with such example Why should not Life be equally content With his Superior, in a smile to trample Upon the nothings which are daily spent Like bubbles on an Ocean much less ample Than the Eternal Deluge, which devours Suns as rays--worlds like atoms--years like hours?

XIV.

"To be, or not to be? that is the question," Says Shakespeare,[487] who just now is much in fashion. I am neither Alexander nor Hephæstion, Nor ever had for abstract fame much passion; But would much rather have a sound digestion Than Buonaparte's cancer:--could I dash on Through fifty victories to shame or fame-- Without a stomach what were a good name?

XV.

"O dura ilia messorum!"[488]--"Oh Ye rigid guts of reapers!" I translate[iw] For the great benefit of those who know What indigestion is--that inward fate Which makes all Styx through one small liver flow. A peasant's sweat is worth his lord's estate: Let this one toil for bread--that rack for rent, He who sleeps best may be the most content.

XVI.

"To be, or not to be?"--Ere I decide, I should be glad to know that which is being. 'T is true we speculate both far and wide, And deem, because we see, we are all-seeing: For my part, I'll enlist on neither side, Until I see both sides for once agreeing. For me, I sometimes think that Life is Death, Rather than Life a mere affair of breath.

XVII.

"Que scais-je"[489] was the motto of Montaigne, As also of the first academicians: That all is dubious which man may attain, Was one of their most favourite positions. There's no such thing as certainty, that's plain As any of Mortality's conditions; So little do we know what we're about in This world, I doubt if doubt itself be doubting.

XVIII.

It is a pleasant voyage perhaps to float, Like Pyrrho,[490] on a sea of speculation; But what if carrying sail capsize the boat? Your wise men don't know much of navigation; And swimming long in the abyss of thought Is apt to tire: a calm and shallow station Well nigh the shore, where one stoops down and gathers Some pretty shell, is best for moderate bathers.

XIX.

"But Heaven," as Cassio says, "is above all--[491] No more of this, then, let us pray!" We have Souls to save, since Eve's slip and Adam's fall, Which tumbled all mankind into the grave, Besides fish, beasts, and birds. "The sparrow's fall Is special providence,"[492] though how it gave Offence, we know not; probably it perched Upon the tree which Eve so fondly searched.

XX.

Oh! ye immortal Gods! what is Theogony? Oh! thou, too, mortal man! what is Philanthropy? Oh! World, which was and is, what is Cosmogony? Some people have accused me of Misanthropy; And yet I know no more than the mahogany That forms this desk, of what they mean;--Lykanthropy[493] I comprehend, for without transformation Men become wolves on any slight occasion.

XXI.

But I, the mildest, meekest of mankind, Like Moses, or Melancthon,[494] who have ne'er[ix] Done anything exceedingly unkind,-- And (though I could not now and then forbear Following the bent of body or of mind) Have always had a tendency to spare,-- Why do they call me Misanthrope? Because They hate me, not I them:--and here we'll pause.

XXII.

'T is time we should proceed with our good poem,-- For I maintain that it is really good, Not only in the body but the proem, However little both are understood Just now,--but by and by the Truth will show 'em Herself in her sublimest attitude: And till she doth, I fain must be content To share her beauty and her banishment.

XXIII.

Our hero (and, I trust, kind reader! yours) Was left upon his way to the chief city Of the immortal Peter's polished boors, Who still have shown themselves more brave than witty. I know its mighty Empire now allures Much flattery--even Voltaire's,[495] and that's a pity. For me, I deem an absolute autocrat Not a barbarian, but much worse than that.

XXIV.

And I will war, at least in words (and--should My chance so happen--deeds), with all who war With Thought;--and of Thought's foes by far most rude, Tyrants and sycophants have been and are. I know not who may conquer: if I could Have such a prescience, it should be no bar To this my plain, sworn, downright detestation Of every despotism in every nation.[iy]

XXV.

It is not that I adulate the people: Without me, there are demagogues enough,[496] And infidels, to pull down every steeple, And set up in their stead some proper stuff. Whether they may sow scepticism to reap Hell, As is the Christian dogma rather rough, I do not know;--I wish men to be free As much from mobs as kings--from you as me.

XXVI.

The consequence is, being of no party, I shall offend all parties:--never mind! My words, at least, are more sincere and hearty Than if I sought to sail before the wind. He who has nought to gain can have small art: he Who neither wishes to be bound nor bind, May still expatiate freely, as will I, Nor give my voice to slavery's jackal cry.[iz]

XXVII.

That's an appropriate simile, that jackal;-- I've heard them in the Ephesian ruins howl[497] By night, as do that mercenary pack all, Power's base purveyors, who for pickings prowl, And scent the prey their masters would attack all. However, the poor jackals are less foul (As being the brave lions' keen providers) Than human insects, catering for spiders.[ja]

XXVIII.

Raise but an arm! 't will brush their web away, And without that, their poison and their claws Are useless. Mind, good people! what I say-- (Or rather Peoples)--go on without pause! The web of these Tarantulas each day Increases, till you shall make common cause: None, save the Spanish Fly and Attic Bee, As yet are strongly stinging to be free.[jb]

XXIX.

Don Juan, who had shone in the late slaughter, Was left upon his way with the despatch, Where blood was talked of as we would of water; And carcasses that lay as thick as thatch O'er silenced cities, merely served to flatter Fair Catherine's pastime--who looked on the match Between these nations as a main of cocks, Wherein she liked her own to stand like rocks.

XXX.

And there in a kibitka he rolled on, (A cursed sort of carriage without springs, Which on rough roads leaves scarcely a whole bone,) Pondering on Glory, Chivalry, and Kings, And Orders, and on all that he had done-- And wishing that post-horses had the wings Of Pegasus, or at the least post-chaises Had feathers, when a traveller on deep ways is.

XXXI.

At every jolt--and they were many--still He turned his eyes upon his little charge, As if he wished that she should fare less ill Than he, in these sad highways left at large To ruts, and flints, and lovely Nature's skill, Who is no paviour, nor admits a barge On her canals, where God takes sea and land, Fishery and farm, both into his own hand.

XXXII.

At least he pays no rent, and has best right To be the first of what we used to call "Gentlemen farmers"--a race worn out quite, Since lately there have been no rents at all, And "gentlemen" are in a piteous plight, And "farmers" can't raise Ceres from her fall: She fell with Buonaparte,[498]--What strange thoughts Arise, when we see Emperors fall with oats!

XXXIII.

But Juan turned his eyes on the sweet child Whom he had saved from slaughter--what a trophy Oh! ye who build up monuments, defiled With gore, like Nadir Shah,[499] that costive Sophy, Who, after leaving Hindostan a wild, And scarce to the Mogul a cup of coffee To soothe his woes withal, was slain, the sinner! Because he could no more digest his dinner;--[jc][500]

XXXIV.

Oh ye! or we! or he! or she! reflect, That one life saved, especially if young Or pretty, is a thing to recollect Far sweeter than the greenest laurels sprung From the manure of human clay, though decked With all the praises ever said or sung: Though hymned by every harp, unless within Your heart joins chorus, Fame is but a din.

XXXV.

Oh! ye great authors luminous, voluminous! Ye twice ten hundred thousand daily scribes! Whose pamphlets, volumes, newspapers, illumine us! Whether you're paid by government in bribes, To prove the public debt is not consuming us-- Or, roughly treading on the "courtier's kibes" With clownish heel[501] your popular circulation Feeds you by printing half the realm's starvation;--

XXXVI.

Oh, ye great authors!--A propos des bottes,-- I have forgotten what I meant to say, As sometimes have been greater sages' lots;-- 'T was something calculated to allay All wrath in barracks, palaces, or cots: Certes it would have been but thrown away, And that's one comfort for my lost advice, Although no doubt it was beyond all price.

XXXVII.

But let it go:--it will one day be found With other relics of "a former World," When this World shall be former, underground, Thrown topsy-turvy, twisted, crisped, and curled, Baked, fried, or burnt, turned inside-out, or drowned, Like all the worlds before, which have been hurled First out of, and then back again to chaos-- The superstratum which will overlay us.[jd]

XXXVIII.

So Cuvier says:[502]--and then shall come again Unto the new creation, rising out From our old crash, some mystic, ancient strain Of things destroyed and left in airy doubt; Like to the notions we now entertain Of Titans, giants, fellows of about Some hundred feet in height, not to say miles, And mammoths, and your winged crocodiles.

XXXIX.

Think if then George the Fourth should be dug up![503] How the new worldlings of the then new East Will wonder where such animals could sup! (For they themselves will be but of the least: Even worlds miscarry, when too oft they pup, And every new creation hath decreased In size, from overworking the material-- Men are but maggots of some huge Earth's burial.)

XL.

How will--to these young people, just thrust out From some fresh Paradise, and set to plough, And dig, and sweat, and turn themselves about, And plant, and reap, and spin, and grind, and sow, Till all the arts at length are brought about, Especially of War and taxing,--how, I say, will these great relics, when they see 'em, Look like the monsters of a new Museum!

XLI.

But I am apt to grow too metaphysical: "The time is out of joint,"[504]--and so am I; I quite forget this poem's merely quizzical, And deviate into matters rather dry. I ne'er decide what I shall say, and this I call[je] Much too poetical: men should know why They write, and for what end; but, note or text, I never know the word which will come next.

XLII.

So on I ramble, now and then narrating, Now pondering:--it is time we should narrate. I left Don Juan with his horses baiting-- Now we'll get o'er the ground at a great rate: I shall not be particular in stating His journey, we've so many tours of late: Suppose him then at Petersburgh; suppose That pleasant capital of painted snows;[505]

XLIII.

Suppose him in a handsome uniform-- A scarlet coat, black facings, a long plume, Waving, like sails new shivered in a storm, Over a cocked hat in a crowded room, And brilliant breeches, bright as a Cairn Gorme, Of yellow casimire we may presume, White stockings drawn uncurdled as new milk O'er limbs whose symmetry set off the silk;[jf]

XLIV.

Suppose him sword by side, and hat in hand, Made up by Youth, Fame, and an army tailor-- That great enchanter, at whose rod's command Beauty springs forth, and Nature's self turns paler, Seeing how Art can make her work more grand (When she don't pin men's limbs in like a gaoler),-- Behold him placed as if upon a pillar! He[jg] Seems Love turned a Lieutenant of Artillery![506]

XLV.

His bandage slipped down into a cravat-- His wings subdued to epaulettes--his quiver Shrunk to a scabbard, with his arrows at His side as a small sword, but sharp as ever-- His bow converted into a cocked hat-- But still so like, that Psyche were more clever Than some wives (who make blunders no less stupid), If she had not mistaken him for Cupid.

XLVI.

The courtiers stared, the ladies whispered, and The Empress smiled: the reigning favourite frowned--[jh] I quite forget which of them was in hand Just then, as they are rather numerous found,[507] Who took, by turns, that difficult command Since first her Majesty was singly crowned:[508] But they were mostly nervous six-foot fellows, All fit to make a Patagonian jealous.

XLVII.

Juan was none of these, but slight and slim, Blushing and beardless; and, yet, ne'ertheless, There was a something in his turn of limb, And still more in his eye, which seemed to express, That, though he looked one of the Seraphim, There lurked a man beneath the Spirit's dress. Besides, the Empress sometimes liked a boy, And had just buried the fair-faced Lanskoi.[ji][509]

XLVIII.

No wonder then that Yermoloff, or Momonoff,[510] Or Scherbatoff, or any other off Or on, might dread her Majesty had not room enough Within her bosom (which was not too tough), For a new flame; a thought to cast of gloom enough Along the aspect, whether smooth or rough, Of him who, in the language of his station, Then held that "high official situation."

XLIX.

O gentle ladies! should you seek to know The import of this diplomatic phrase, Bid Ireland's Londonderry's Marquess[511] show His parts of speech, and in the strange displays Of that odd string of words, all in a row, Which none divine, and every one obeys, Perhaps you may pick out some queer no meaning,-- Of that weak wordy harvest the sole gleaning.

L.

I think I can explain myself without That sad inexplicable beast of prey-- That Sphinx, whose words would ever be a doubt, Did not his deeds unriddle them each day-- That monstrous hieroglyphic--that long spout Of blood and water--leaden Castlereagh! And here I must an anecdote relate, But luckily of no great length or weight.

LI.

An English lady asked of an Italian, What were the actual and official duties Of the strange thing some women set a value on, Which hovers oft about some married beauties, Called "Cavalier Servente?"[512]--a Pygmalion Whose statues warm (I fear, alas! too true 't is) Beneath his art:[jj]--the dame, pressed to disclose them, Said--"Lady, I beseech you to suppose them."

LII.

And thus I supplicate your supposition, And mildest, matron-like interpretation, Of the imperial favourite's condition. 'T was a high place, the highest in the nation In fact, if not in rank; and the suspicion Of any one's attaining to his station, No doubt gave pain, where each new pair of shoulders, If rather broad, made stocks rise--and their holders.

LIII.

Juan, I said, was a most beauteous boy, And had retained his boyish look beyond The usual hirsute seasons which destroy, With beards and whiskers, and the like, the fond Parisian aspect, which upset old Troy And founded Doctors' Commons:[jk]--I have conned The history of divorces, which, though chequered, Calls Ilion's the first damages on record.

LIV.

And Catherine, who loved all things (save her Lord, Who was gone to his place), and passed for much, Admiring those (by dainty dames abhorred) Gigantic gentlemen, yet had a touch Of sentiment: and he she most adored Was the lamented Lanskoi, who was such A lover as had cost her many a tear, And yet but made a middling grenadier.

LV.

Oh thou "teterrima causa" of all "belli"--[513] Thou gate of Life and Death--thou nondescript! Whence is our exit and our entrance,--well I May pause in pondering how all souls are dipped In thy perennial fountain:--how man fell I Know not, since Knowledge saw her branches stripped Of her first fruit; but how he falls and rises Since,--thou hast settled beyond all surmises.

LVI.

Some call thee "the worst cause of War," but I Maintain thou art the best:--for after all, From thee we come, to thee we go, and why To get at thee not batter down a wall, Or waste a World? since no one can deny Thou dost replenish worlds both great and small: With--or without thee--all things at a stand[jl] Are, or would be, thou sea of Life's dry land![jm]

LVII.

Catherine, who was the grand Epitome Of that great cause of War, or Peace, or what You please (it causes all the things which be, So you may take your choice of this or that)-- Catherine, I say, was very glad to see The handsome herald, on whose plumage sat[514] Victory; and, pausing as she saw him kneel With his despatch, forgot to break the seal.

LVIII.

Then recollecting the whole Empress, nor Forgetting quite the Woman (which composed At least three parts of this great whole), she tore The letter open with an air which posed The Court, that watched each look her visage wore, Until a royal smile at length disclosed Fair weather for the day. Though rather spacious, Her face was noble, her eyes fine, mouth gracious.[515]

LIX.

Great joy was hers, or rather joys: the first Was a ta'en city, thirty thousand slain: Glory and triumph o'er her aspect burst, As an East Indian sunrise on the main:-- These quenched a moment her Ambition's thirst-- So Arab deserts drink in Summer's rain: In vain!--As fall the dews on quenchless sands, Blood only serves to wash Ambition's hands!

LX.

Her next amusement was more fanciful; She smiled at mad Suwarrow's rhymes, who threw Into a Russian couplet rather dull The whole gazette of thousands whom he slew: Her third was feminine enough to annul The shudder which runs naturally through Our veins, when things called Sovereigns think it best To kill, and Generals turn it into jest.

LXI.

The two first feelings ran their course complete, And lighted first her eye, and then her mouth: The whole court looked immediately most sweet, Like flowers well watered after a long drouth:-- But when on the Lieutenant at her feet Her Majesty, who liked to gaze on youth Almost as much as on a new despatch, Glanced mildly,--all the world was on the watch.

LXII.

Though somewhat large, exuberant, and truculent, When wroth--while pleased, she was as fine a figure As those who like things rosy, ripe, and succulent, Would wish to look on, while they are in vigour. She could repay each amatory look you lent With interest, and, in turn, was wont with rigour To exact of Cupid's bills the full amount At sight, nor would permit you to discount.

LXIII.

With her the latter, though at times convenient, Was not so necessary; for they tell That she was handsome, and though fierce looked lenient, And always used her favourites too well. If once beyond her boudoir's precincts in ye went, Your "fortune" was in a fair way "to swell A man" (as Giles says);[516] for though she would widow all Nations, she liked Man as an individual.

LXIV.

What a strange thing is Man! and what a stranger Is Woman! What a whirlwind is her head, And what a whirlpool full of depth and danger Is all the rest about her! Whether wed, Or widow--maid--or mother, she can change her Mind like the wind: whatever she has said Or done, is light to what she'll say or do;-- The oldest thing on record, and yet new!

LXV.

Oh Catherine! (for of all interjections, To thee both oh! and ah! belong, of right, In Love and War) how odd are the connections Of human thoughts, which jostle in their flight! Just now yours were cut out in different sections: First Ismail's capture caught your fancy quite; Next of new knights, the fresh and glorious batch: And thirdly he who brought you the despatch!

LXVI.

Shakespeare talks of "the herald Mercury New lighted on a heaven-kissing hill:"[517] And some such visions crossed her Majesty, While her young herald knelt before her still. 'T is very true the hill seemed rather high, For a Lieutenant to climb up; but skill Smoothed even the Simplon's steep, and by God's blessing, With Youth and Health all kisses are "Heaven-kissing."

LXVII.

Her Majesty looked down, the youth looked up-- And so they fell in love;--she with his face, His grace, his God-knows-what: for Cupid's cup With the first draught intoxicates apace, A quintessential laudanum or "Black Drop," Which makes one drunk at once, without the base Expedient of full bumpers; for the eye In love drinks all Life's fountains (save tears) dry.

LXVIII.

He, on the other hand, if not in love, Fell into that no less imperious passion, Self-love--which, when some sort of thing above Ourselves, a singer, dancer, much in fashion, Or Duchess--Princess--Empress, "deigns to prove"[518] ('T is Pope's phrase) a great longing, though a rash one, For one especial person out of many, Make us believe ourselves as good as any.

LXIX.

Besides, he was of that delighted age Which makes all female ages equal--when We don't much care with whom we may engage, As bold as Daniel in the lions' den, So that we can our native sun assuage In the next ocean, which may flow just then-- To make a twilight in, just as Sol's heat is Quenched in the lap of the salt sea, or Thetis.

LXX.

And Catherine (we must say thus much for Catherine), Though bold and bloody, was the kind of thing Whose temporary passion was quite flattering, Because each lover looked a sort of King, Made up upon an amatory pattern, A royal husband in all save the ring--[jn] Which, (being the damnedest part of matrimony,) Seemed taking out the sting to leave the honey:

LXXI.

And when you add to this, her Womanhood In its meridian, her blue eyes[519] or gray-- (The last, if they have soul, are quite as good, Or better, as the best examples say: Napoleon's, Mary's[520] (Queen of Scotland), should Lend to that colour a transcendent ray; And Pallas also sanctions the same hue, Too wise to look through optics black or blue)--

LXXII.

Her sweet smile, and her then majestic figure,[jo] Her plumpness, her imperial condescension, Her preference of a boy to men much bigger (Fellows whom Messalina's self would pension), Her prime of life, just now in juicy vigour, With other extras, which we need not mention,-- All these, or any one of these, explain Enough to make a stripling very vain.

LXXIII.

And that's enough, for Love is vanity, Selfish in its beginning as its end,[jp] Except where 't is a mere insanity, A maddening spirit which would strive to blend Itself with Beauty's frail inanity, On which the Passion's self seems to depend; And hence some heathenish philosophers Make Love the main-spring of the Universe.

LXXIV.

Besides Platonic love, besides the love Of God, the love of sentiment, the loving Of faithful pairs--(I needs must rhyme with dove, That good old steam-boat which keeps verses moving 'Gainst reason--Reason ne'er was hand-and-glove With rhyme, but always leant less to improving The sound than sense)--besides all these pretences To Love, there are those things which words name senses;

LXXV.

Those movements, those improvements in our bodies Which make all bodies anxious to get out Of their own sand-pits, to mix with a goddess, For such all women are at first no doubt.[jq] How beautiful that moment! and how odd is That fever which precedes the languid rout Of our sensations! What a curious way The whole thing is of clothing souls in clay![jr]

LXXVI.[521]

The noblest kind of love is love Platonical, To end or to begin with; the next grand Is that which may be christened love canonical, Because the clergy take the thing in hand; The third sort to be noted in our chronicle As flourishing in every Christian land, Is when chaste matrons to their other ties Add what may be called marriage in disguise.

LXXVII.

Well, we won't analyse--our story must Tell for itself: the Sovereign was smitten, Juan much flattered by her love, or lust;-- I cannot stop to alter words once written, And the two are so mixed with human dust, That he who names one, both perchance may hit on: But in such matters Russia's mighty Empress Behaved no better than a common sempstress.

LXXVIII.

The whole court melted into one wide whisper, And all lips were applied unto all ears! The elder ladies' wrinkles curled much crisper As they beheld; the younger cast some leers On one another, and each lovely lisper Smiled as she talked the matter o'er; but tears Of rivalship rose in each clouded eye Of all the standing army who stood by.

LXXIX.

All the ambassadors of all the powers Inquired, Who was this very new young man, Who promised to be great in some few hours? Which is full soon (though Life is but a span). Already they beheld the silver showers Of rubles rain, as fast as specie can, Upon his cabinet, besides the presents Of several ribands, and some thousand peasants.[522]

LXXX.

Catherine was generous,--all such ladies are: Love--that great opener of the heart and all The ways that lead there, be they near or far, Above, below, by turnpikes great or small,-- Love--(though she had a cursed taste for War, And was not the best wife unless we call Such Clytemnestra, though perhaps 't is better That one should die--than two drag on the fetter)--

LXXXI.

Love had made Catherine make each lover's fortune, Unlike our own half-chaste Elizabeth, Whose avarice all disbursements did importune, If History, the grand liar, ever saith The truth; and though grief her old age might shorten, Because she put a favourite to death, Her vile, ambiguous method of flirtation, And stinginess, disgrace her sex and station.

LXXXII.

But when the levée rose, and all was bustle In the dissolving circle, all the nations' Ambassadors began as 't were to hustle Round the young man with their congratulations. Also the softer silks were heard to rustle Of gentle dames, among whose recreations It is to speculate on handsome faces, Especially when such lead to high places.

LXXXIII.

Juan, who found himself, he knew not how, A general object of attention, made His answers with a very graceful bow, As if born for the ministerial trade. Though modest, on his unembarrassed brow Nature had written "Gentleman!" He said Little, but to the purpose; and his manner Flung hovering graces o'er him like a banner.

LXXXIV.

An order from her Majesty consigned Our young Lieutenant to the genial care Of those in office: all the world looked kind, (As it will look sometimes with the first stare, Which Youth would not act ill to keep in mind,) As also did Miss Protasoff[523] then there,[js] Named from her mystic office "l'Eprouveuse," A term inexplicable to the Muse.

LXXXV.

With her then, as in humble duty bound, Juan retired,--and so will I, until My Pegasus shall tire of touching ground. We have just lit on a "heaven-kissing hill," So lofty that I feel my brain turn round, And all my fancies whirling like a mill; Which is a signal to my nerves and brain, To take a quiet ride in some green lane.[524]

FOOTNOTES:

{373}[476] [Stanzas i.-viii., which are headed "Don Juan, Canto III., July 10, 1819," are in the handwriting of (?) the Countess Guiccioli. Stanzas ix., x., which were written on the same sheet of paper, are in Byron's handwriting. The original MS. opens with stanza xi., "Death laughs," etc. (See letter to Moore, July 12, 1822, Letters, 1901, vi. 96.)]

[477]

["Faut qu' lord Villain-ton ait tout pris; N'y a plus d' argent dans c' gueux de Paris."

De Béranger, "Complainte d'une de ces Demoiselles a l'Occasion des Affaires du Temps (Février, 1816)," Chansons, 1821, ii. 17.

Compare a retaliatory epigram which appeared in a contemporary newspaper--

"These French petit-maîtres who the spectacle throng, Say of Wellington's dress qu'il fait vilain ton! But, at Waterloo, Wellington made the French stare When their army he dressed à la mode Angleterre!"]

[it] Oh Wellington (or "Vilainton")----.--[MS. B.]

[478] Query, Ney?--Printer's Devil. [Michel Ney, Duke of Elchingen, "the bravest of the brave" (see Ode from the French, stanza i. Poetical Works, 1900, iii. 431), born January 10, 1769, was arrested August 5, and shot December 7, 1815.]

[479] [The story of the attempted assassination (February 11, 1818) of the Duke of Wellington, which is dismissed by Alison in a few words (Hist. of Europe (1815-1852), 1853, i. 577, 578), occupies many pages of the Supplementary Despatches (1865, xii. 271-546). Byron probably drew his own conclusions as to the Kinnaird-Marinet incident, from the Letter to the Duke of Wellington on the Arrest of M. Marinet, by Lord Kinnaird, 1818. The story, which is full of interest, may be briefly recounted. On January 30, 1818, Lord Kinnaird informed Sir George Murray (Chief of the Staff of the Army of Occupation) that a person, whose name he withheld, had revealed to him the existence of a plot to assassinate the Duke of Wellington. At 12.30 a.m., February 11, 1818, the Duke, on returning to his Hotel, was fired at by an unknown person; and then, but not till then, he wrote to urge Lord Clancarty to advise the Prince Regent to take steps to persuade or force Kinnaird to disclose the name of his informant. A Mr. G.W. Chad, of the Consular Service, was empowered to proceed to Brussels, and to seek an interview with Kinnaird. He carried with him, among other documents, a letter from the Duke to Lord Clancarty, dated February 12, 1818. A postscript contained this intimation: "It may be proper to mention to you that the French Government are disposed to go every length in the way of negotiation with the person mentioned by Lord Kinnaird, or others, to discover the plot."

Kinnaird absolutely declined to give up the name of his informant, but, acting on the strength of the postscript, which had been read but not shown to him, started for Paris with "the great unknown." Some days after their arrival, and while Kinnaird was a guest of the Duke, the man was arrested, and discovered to be one Nicholle or Marinet, who had been appointed receveur under the restored government of Louis XVIII., but during the Cent jours had fled to Belgium, retaining the funds he had amassed during his term of office. Kinnaird regarded this action of the French Government as a breach of faith, and in a "Memorial" to the French Chamber of Peers, and his Letter, maintained that the Duke's postscript implied a promise of a safe conduct for Marinet to and from Paris to Brussels. The Duke, on the other hand, was equally positive (see his letter to Lord Liverpool, May 30, 1818) "that he never intended to have any negotiations with anybody." Kinnaird was a "dog with a bad name." He had been accused (see his Letter to the Earl of Liverpool, 1816, p. 16) of "the promulgation of dangerous opinions," and of intimacy "with persons suspected." The Duke speaks of him as "the friend of Revolutionists"! It is evident that he held the dangerous doctrine that a promise to a rogue is a promise, and that the authorities took a different view of the ethics of the situation. It is clear, too, that the Duke's postscript was ambiguous, but that it did not warrant the assumption that if Marinet went to Paris he should be protected. The air was full of plots. The great Duke despised and was inclined to ignore the pistol or the dagger of the assassin; but he believed that "mischief was afoot," and that "great personages" might or might not be responsible. He was beset by difficulties at every turn, and would have been more than mortal if he had put too favourable a construction on the scruples, or condoned the imprudence of a "friend of Revolutionists."]

{374}[480] [The reference may be to the Duke of Wellington's intimacy with Lady Frances Wedderburn Webster. Byron had "passed that way" himself (see Letters, 1898, ii. 251, note i, 323, etc.), and could hardly attack the Duke on that score.]

[481] ["Thou art the best o' the cut-throats." Macbeth, act iii. sc. 4, line 17.]

[482] ["I have supped full of horrors." Macbeth, act v. sc. 5, line 13.]

[483] Vide speeches in Parliament, after the battle of Waterloo.

{376}[484] ["I at this time got a post, being for fatigue, with four others. We were sent to break biscuit, and make a mess for Lord Wellington's hounds. I was very hungry, and thought it a good job at the time, as we got our own fill, while we broke the biscuit,--a thing I had not got for some days. When thus engaged, the Prodigal Son was never once out of my mind; and I sighed, as I fed the dogs, over my humble situation and my ruined hopes."--Journal of a Soldier of the 71st Regiment, 1806 to 1815 (Edinburgh, 1822), pp. 132, 133.]

[485] ["We are assured that Epaminondas died so poor that the Thebans buried him at the public charge; for at his death nothing was found in his house but an iron spit."--Plutarch's Fabius Maximus, Langhorne's translation, 1838, p. 140. See, too, Cornelius Nepos, Epam., cap. iii. "Paupertatem adeo facilè perpessus est, ut de Republica nihil præter gloriam ceperit."]

[486] [For Pitt's refusal to accept £100,000 from the merchants of London towards the payment of his debts, or £30,000 from the King's Privy Purse, see Pitt, by Lord Rosebery, 1891. p. 231.]

{377}[iu] To you this one unflattering Muse inscribes.--[MS. erased.]

{377}[iv] He strips from man his mantle (which is dear Though beautiful in youth) his carnal skin.--[MS. erased.]

[487] [Hamlet, act iii. sc. i, line 56.]

[488] ["O dura messorum ilia!" etc.-Hor., Epod. iii. 4.]

[iw] Ye iron guts----.--[MS. erased.]

{379}[489] ["Ce n'est qu'à l'édition de 1635 qu'on voit paraître la devise que Montaigne avait adoptée, le que sais-je? avec l'emblème des balances. ... Ce que sais-je que Pascal a si sévèrement analysé se lit au chapitre douze du livre ii; il caractérise parfaitement la philosophie de Montaigne; il est la conséquence de cette maxime qu'il avait inscrite en grec sur les solives de sa librairie: 'Il n'est point de raisonnement au quel on n'oppose un raissonnement contraire.'"--Oeuvres de ... Montaigne, 1837, "Notice Bibliographique," p. xvii.]

[490] [Concerning the Pyrrhonists or Sceptics and their master Pyrrho, who held that Truth was incomprehensible (inprensibilis), and that you may not affirm of aught that it be rather this or that, or neither this nor that (οὐ μᾶλλον οὕτως ἔχει τόδε ἢ ἐκείνως ἢ οὐδετέρως), [Greek: (ou) ma~llon ou(/tôs e)/chei to/de ê)\ e)kei/nôs ê)\ ou)dete/rôs),] see Aul. Gellii Noct. Attic., lib. xi. cap. v.]

[491] See Othello, [act ii. sc. 3, lines 206, 207: "Well, God's above all, and there be souls must be saved; and there be souls must not be saved--Let's have no more of this."]

{380}[492] [Hamlet, act v. sc. 2, lines 94, 98, 102.]

[493] [For "Lycanthropy," see "The Soldier's Story" in the Satyricôn of Petronius Arbiter, cap. 62; see, too, Letters on Demonology, etc., by Sir W. Scott, 1830, pp. 211, 212.]

[494] [In respect of suavity and forbearance Melancthon was the counterpart of Luther. John Arrowsmith (1602-1657), in his Tractica Sacra, describes him as "Vir in quo cum pietate doctrina, et cum utrâque candor certavit."]

[ix] Like Moses or like Cobbett who have ne'er.

Moses and Cobbet proclaim themselves the "meekest of men." See their writings.--[MS.]

Like Moses who was "very meek" had ne'er.--[MS. erased.]

{381}[495] [See his "Correspondance avec L'Impératrice de Russie," Oeuvres Complètes de Voltaire, 1836, x. 393-477. M. Waliszewski, in his Story of a Throne, 1895, i. 224, has gathered a handful of these flowers of speech: "She is the chief person in the world.... She is the fire and life of nations.... She is a saint.... She is above all saints.... She is equal to the mother of God.... She is the divinity of the North.--Te Catherinam laudamus, te Dominam confitemur, etc., etc."]

[iy] Of everything that ever cursed a nation.--[MS. erased.]

[496] ["It is still more difficult to say which form of government is the worst--all are so bad. As for democracy, it is the worst of the whole; for what is (in fact) democracy?--an Aristocracy of Blackguards."--See "My Dictionary" (May 1, 1821), Letters, 1901, v. 405, 406.]

{382}[iz] Though priests and slaves may join the servile cry.--[MS. erased.]

[497] In Greece I never saw or heard these animals; but among the ruins of Ephesus I have heard them by hundreds.

[See Childe Harold, Canto IV. stanza cliii. line 6, Poetical Works, 1899, ii. 441; and Siege of Corinth, line 329, ibid., 1900, iii. 462, note 1.]

[ja] Whereas the others hunt for rascal spiders.--[MS. erased.]

[jb] Which still are strongly fluttering to be free.--[MS. erased.]

{383}[498] [Compare The Age of Bronze, line 576, sq., Poetical Works, 1901, v. 570.]

{384}[499] [Nadir Shah, or Thamas Kouli Khan, born November, 1688, invaded India, 1739-40, was assassinated June 19, 1747.]

[jc] ---- went mad and was Killed because what he swallowed would not pass.--[MS. erased.]

[500] He was killed in a conspiracy, after his temper had been exasperated by his extreme costivity to a degree of insanity.

[To such a height had his madness (attributed to melancholia produced by dropsy) attained, that he actually ordered the Afghan chiefs to rise suddenly upon the Persian guard, and seize the ... chief nobles; but the project being discovered, the intended victims conspired in turn, and a body of them, including Nadir's guard, and the chief of his own tribe of Afshar, entered his tent at midnight, and, after a moment's involuntary pause--when challenged by the deep voice at which they had so often trembled--rushed upon the king, who being brought to the ground by a sabre-stroke, begged for life, and attempted to rise, but soon expired beneath the repeated blows of the conspirators.--The Indian Empire, by R. Montgomery Martin (1857), i. 172.]

[501] [Compare Childe Harold, Canto I. stanza lxvii. line 5, Poetical Works, 1899, ii. 64, note 3.]

{385}[jd] Or the substrata----.--[MS.]

[502] [Compare Preface to Cain, Poetical Works, 1901, V. 210, note 1.]

[503] [Vide ante, Canto VIII. stanza cxxvi. line 9, p. 368.]

{386}[504] [Hamlet, act i. sc. 5, line 189.]

[je] I never know what's next to come----.--[MS. erased.]

[505] [It is possible that the phrase "painted snows" was suggested by Tooke's description of the winter-garden of the Taurida Palace: "The genial warmth, ... the voluptuous silence that reigns in this enchanting garden, lull the fancy into sweet romantic dreams: we think ourselves in the groves of Italy, while torpid nature, through the windows of this pavilion, announces the severity of a northern winter" (The Life, etc., 1800, iii. 48).]

{387}[jf] O'er limits which mightily----:--[MS. erased.]

[jg]---- in Youth and Glory's pillory.--[MS. erased.]

[506] [In his Notes sur le Don Juanisme (Mercure de France, 1898, xxvi. 66), M. Bruchard says that this phrase defines and summarizes the Byronic Don Juan.]

[jh] The Empress smiled while all the Orloff frowned-- A numerous family, to whose heart or hand Mild Catherine owed the chance of being crowned,.--[MS. erased.]

{388}[507] [C.F.P. Masson, in his Mémoires Secrets, etc., 1880, i. 150-178, gives a list of twelve favourites, and in this Canto, Don Juan takes upon himself the characteristics of at least three, Lanskoï, Zoritch (or Zovitch), and Plato Zoubof. For example (p. 167), "Zoritch ... est le seul étranger qu'elle ait osé créer son favori pendant son regne. C'étoit un Servien échappé du bagne de Constantinople où il étoit prisonnier: il parut, pour la première fois, en habit de hussard à la cour. Il éblouit tout le monde par sa beauté, et les vielles dames en parlent encore comme d'un Adonis." M. Waliszewski, in his Romance of an Empress (1894), devotes a chapter to "Private Life and Favouritism" (ii. 234-286), in which he graphically describes the election and inauguration of the Vremienchtchik, "the man of the moment," paramour regnant, and consort of the Empress pro hac vice: "'We may observe in Russia a sort of interregnum in affairs, caused by the displacement of one favourite and the installation of his successor.' ... The interregnums are, however, of very short duration. Only one lasts for several months, between the death of Lanskoï (1784) and the succession of Iermolof.... There is no lack of candidates. The place is good.... Sometimes, too, on the height by the throne, reached at a bound, these spoilt children of fate grow giddy.... It is over in an instant, at an evening reception it is noticed that the Empress has gazed attentively at some obscure lieutenant, presented but just before ... next day it is reported that he has been appointed aide-de-camp to her Majesty. What that means is well known. Next day he finds himself in the special suite of rooms.... The rooms are already vacated, and everything is prepared for the new-comer. All imaginable comfort and luxury ... await him; and, on opening a drawer, he finds a hundred thousand roubles [about £20,000], the usual first gift, a foretaste of Pactolus. That evening, before the assembled court, the Empress appears, leaning familiarly on his arm, and on the stroke of ten, as she retires, the new favourite follows her" (ibid., pp. 246-249).]

[508] [After the death or murder of her husband, Peter III., Catherine Alexievna (1729-1796) (born Sophia Augusta), daughter of the Prince of Anhalt Zerbst, was solemnly crowned (September, 1762) Empress of all the Russias.]

{389}[ji] And almost died for the scarce-fledged Lanskoi.--[MS. erased.]

[509] He was the grande passion of the grande Catherine. See her Lives under the head of "Lanskoi."

[Lanskoi was a youth of as fine and interesting a figure as the imagination can paint. Of all Catherine's favourites, he was the man whom she loved the most. In 1784 he was attacked with a fever, and perished in the arms of her Majesty. When he was no more, Catherine gave herself up to the most poignant grief, and remained three months without going out of her palace of Tzarsko-selo. She afterwards raised a superb monument to his memory. (See Life of Catherine II., by W. Tooke, 1800, iii. 88, 89.)]

[510] [Ten months after the death of Lanskoi, the Empress consoled herself with Iermolof, described, by Bezborodky, as "a modest refined young man, who cultivates the society of serious people." In less than a year this excellent youth is, in turn, displaced by Dmitrief Mamonof. His petit nom was Red Coat, and, for a time, he is a "priceless creature." "He has," says Catherine, "two superb black eyes, with eyebrows outlined as one rarely sees; about the middle height, noble in manner, easy in demeanour." But Mamonof suffered from "scruples of conscience," and, after a while, with Catherine's consent and blessing, was happily married to the Princess Shtcherbatof, a maid of honour, and not, as Byron supposed, a rival "man of the moment."--See The Story of a Throne, by K. Waliszewski, 1895, ii. 135, sq.]

[511] This was written long before the suicide of that person. [For "his parts of speech" compare--

" ... that long mandarin C-stle-r-agh (whom Fum calls the Confucius of Prose) Was rehearsing a speech upon Europe's repose To the deep double bass of the fat Idol's nose."

Moore's Fum and Hum, The Two Birds of Royalty.]

{390}[512] [Compare Beppo, stanza xvii. line 8, Poetical Works, 1901, iv. 165. See, too, letter to Hoppner, December 31, 1819, Letters, 1900, iv. 393.]

[jj] Beneath his chisel-- or, Beneath his touches----.--[MS. erased.]

{391}[jk] ---- and bound fair Helen in a bond.--[MS. erased.]

[513] Hor., Sat., lib. i. sat. iii. lines 107, 108.

[jl] That Riddle which all read, none understand.--[MS. erased.]

[jm]---- thou Sea which lavest Life's sand.--[MS. erased.]

{392}[514] ["Fortune and victory sit on thy helm."--Richard III., act v, sc. 3, line 79.]

[515] ["Catherine had been handsome in her youth, and she preserved a gracefulness and majesty to the last period of her life. She was of a moderate stature, but well proportioned; and as she carried her head very high, she appeared rather tall. She had an open front, an aquiline nose, an agreeable mouth, and her chin, though long, was not mis-shapen. Her hair was auburn, her eyebrows black and rather thick, and her blue eyes had a gentleness which was often affected, but oftener still a mixture of pride. Her physiognomy was not deficient in expression; but this expression never discovered what was passing in the soul of Catherine, or rather it served her the better to disguise it."--Life of Catherine II., by W. Tooke, iii. 381 (translated from Vie de Catherine II. (J.H. Castéra), 1797, ii. 450).]

{393}[516] ["His fortune swells him: 'Tis rank, he's married."--Sir Giles Overreach, in Massinger's New Way to pay Old Debts, act v. sc. 1.]

{394}[517] [Hamlet, act iii. sc. iv. lines 58, 59.]

{395}[518]

["Not Cæsar's empress would I deign to prove; No! make me mistress to the man I love."

Pope, Eloisa to Abelard, lines 87, 88.]

[jn] O'er whom an Empress her Crown-jewels scattering Was wed with something better than a ring.--[MS. erased.]

[519] ["Several persons who lived at the court affirm that Catherine had very blue eyes, and not brown, as M. Rulhières has stated."--Life of Catherine II., by W. Tooke, 1800, iii. 382.]

{396}[520] [The historic Catherine (æt. 62) was past her meridian in the spring of 1791.]

[jo] Her figure, and her vigour, and her rigour.--[MS. erased.]

[jp] In its sincere beginning, or dull end.--[MS. erased.]

{397}[jq] For such all women are just then, no doubt.--[MS.]

[jr] Of such sensations, in the drowsy drear After--which shadows the, say--second year.--[MS.] Of that sad heavy, drowsy, doubly drear After, which shadows the first--say, year.--[MS. erased.]

[521] [Stanza lxxvi. is not in the MS.]

{398}[522] A Russian estate is always valued by the number of the slaves upon it.

{399}[523] [The "Protassova" (born 1744) was a cousin of the Orlofs. She survived Catherine by many years, and was, writes M. Waliszewski (The Story of a Throne, 1895, ii. 193), "present at the Congress of Vienna, covered with diamonds like a reliquary, and claiming precedence of every one." She is named l'éprouveuse in a note to the Mémoires Secrets, 1800, i. 148.]

[js] And not be dazzled by its early glare.--[MS. erased.]

[524] End of Canto 9^th^, Augt. Sept., 1822. B.

CANTO THE TENTH.

I.

When Newton saw an apple fall, he found In that slight startle from his contemplation-- 'T is said (for I'll not answer above ground For any sage's creed or calculation)-- A mode of proving that the Earth turned round In a most natural whirl, called "gravitation;" And this is the sole mortal who could grapple,[jt] Since Adam--with a fall--or with an apple.[ju][525]

II.

Man fell with apples, and with apples rose, If this be true; for we must deem the mode In which Sir Isaac Newton could disclose Through the then unpaved stars the turnpike road,[jv] A thing to counterbalance human woes:[526] For ever since immortal man hath glowed With all kinds of mechanics, and full soon Steam-engines will conduct him to the moon.

III.

And wherefore this exordium?--Why, just now, In taking up this paltry sheet of paper, My bosom underwent a glorious glow, And my internal spirit cut a caper: And though so much inferior, as I know, To those who, by the dint of glass and vapour, Discover stars, and sail in the wind's eye, I wish to do as much by Poesy.

IV.

In the wind's eye I have sailed, and sail; but for The stars, I own my telescope is dim; But at the least I have shunned the common shore, And leaving land far out of sight, would skim The Ocean of Eternity:[527] the roar Of breakers has not daunted my slight, trim, But still sea-worthy skiff; and she may float Where ships have foundered, as doth many a boat.

V.

We left our hero, Juan, in the bloom Of favouritism, but not yet in the blush;-- And far be it from my Muses to presume (For I have more than one Muse at a push), To follow him beyond the drawing-room: It is enough that Fortune found him flush Of Youth, and Vigour, Beauty, and those things Which for an instant clip Enjoyment's wings.

VI.

But soon they grow again and leave their nest. "Oh!" saith the Psalmist, "that I had a dove's Pinions to flee away, and be at rest!" And who that recollects young years and loves,-- Though hoary now, and with a withering breast, And palsied Fancy, which no longer roves Beyond its dimmed eye's sphere,--but would much rather Sigh like his son, than cough like his grandfather?

VII.

But sighs subside, and tears (even widows') shrink, Like Arno[528] in the summer, to a shallow, So narrow as to shame their wintry brink, Which threatens inundations deep and yellow! Such difference doth a few months make. You'd think Grief a rich field which never would lie fallow; No more it doth--its ploughs but change their boys, Who furrow some new soil to sow for joys.

VIII.

But coughs will come when sighs depart--and now And then before sighs cease; for oft the one Will bring the other, ere the lake-like brow Is ruffled by a wrinkle, or the Sun Of Life reached ten o'clock: and while a glow, Hectic and brief as summer's day nigh done, O'erspreads the cheek which seems too pure for clay, Thousands blaze, love, hope, die,--how happy they!--

IX.

But Juan was not meant to die so soon:-- We left him in the focus of such glory As may be won by favour of the moon Or ladies' fancies--rather transitory Perhaps; but who would scorn the month of June, Because December, with his breath so hoary, Must come? Much rather should he court the ray, To hoard up warmth against a wintry day.

X.

Besides, he had some qualities which fix Middle-aged ladies even more than young: The former know what's what; while new-fledged chicks Know little more of Love than what is sung In rhymes, or dreamt (for Fancy will play tricks) In visions of those skies from whence Love sprung. Some reckon women by their suns or years, I rather think the Moon should date the dears.

XI.

And why? because she's changeable and chaste: I know no other reason, whatsoe'er Suspicious people, who find fault in haste,[jw] May choose to tax me with; which is not fair, Nor flattering to "their temper or their taste," As my friend Jeffrey writes with such an air:[529] However, I forgive him, and I trust He will forgive himself;--if not, I must.

XII.

Old enemies who have become new friends Should so continue--'t is a point of honour; And I know nothing which could make amends For a return to Hatred: I would shun her Like garlic, howsoever she extends Her hundred arms and legs, and fain outrun her. Old flames, new wives, become our bitterest foes-- Converted foes should scorn to join with those.

XIII.

This were the worst desertion:--renegadoes, Even shuffling Southey, that incarnate lie,[jx] Would scarcely join again the "reformadoes,"[530] Whom he forsook to fill the Laureate's sty; And honest men from Iceland to Barbadoes, Whether in Caledon or Italy, Should not veer round with every breath, nor seize To pain, the moment when you cease to please.

XIV.

The lawyer and the critic but behold The baser sides of literature and life, And nought remains unseen, but much untold, By those who scour those double vales of strife. While common men grow ignorantly old, The lawyer's brief is like the surgeon's knife, Dissecting the whole inside of a question, And with it all the process of digestion.

XV.[531]

A legal broom's a moral chimney-sweeper, And that's the reason he himself's so dirty; The endless soot[532] bestows a tint far deeper Than can be hid by altering his shirt; he Retains the sable stains of the dark creeper, At least some twenty-nine do out of thirty, In all their habits;--not so you, I own; As Cæsar wore his robe you wear your gown.[533]

XVI.

And all our little feuds, at least all mine, Dear Jeffrey, once my most redoubted foe (As far as rhyme and criticism combine To make such puppets of us things below), Are over: Here's a health to "Auld Lang Syne!" I do not know you, and may never know Your face--but you have acted on the whole Most nobly, and I own it from my soul.

XVII.

And when I use the phrase of "Auld Lang Syne!" 'T is not addressed to you--the more's the pity For me, for I would rather take my wine With you, than aught (save Scott) in your proud city: But somehow--it may seem a schoolboy's whine, And yet I seek not to be grand nor witty, But I am half a Scot by birth, and bred A whole one, and my heart flies to my head,--[534]

XVIII.

As "Auld Lang Syne" brings Scotland, one and all,[535] Scotch plaids, Scotch snoods, the blue hills, and clear streams, The Dee--the Don--Balgounie's brig's black wall--[536] All my boy feelings, all my gentler dreams Of what I then dreamt, clothed in their own pall,-- Like Banquo's offspring--floating past me seems My childhood, in this childishness of mine:-- I care not--'t is a glimpse of "Auld Lang Syne."

XIX.

And though, as you remember, in a fit Of wrath and rhyme, when juvenile and curly, I railed at Scots to show my wrath and wit, Which must be owned was sensitive and surly, Yet 't is in vain such sallies to permit, They cannot quench young feelings fresh and early: I "scotched not killed" the Scotchman in my blood, And love the land of "mountain and of flood."[537]

XX.

Don Juan, who was real, or ideal,-- For both are much the same, since what men think Exists when the once thinkers are less real Than what they thought, for Mind can never sink, And 'gainst the Body makes a strong appeal; And yet 't is very puzzling on the brink Of what is called Eternity to stare, And know no more of what is here, than there;--

XXI.

Don Juan grew a very polished Russian-- How we won't mention, why we need not say: Few youthful minds can stand the strong concussion Of any slight temptation in their way; But his just now were spread as is a cushion Smoothed for a Monarch's seat of honour: gay Damsels, and dances, revels, ready money, Made ice seem Paradise, and winter sunny.

XXII.

The favour of the Empress was agreeable; And though the duty waxed a little hard, Young people at his time of life should be able To come off handsomely in that regard. He was now growing up like a green tree, able For Love, War, or Ambition, which reward Their luckier votaries, till old Age's tedium Make some prefer the circulating medium.

XXIII.

About this time, as might have been anticipated, Seduced by Youth and dangerous examples, Don Juan grew, I fear, a little dissipated; Which is a sad thing, and not only tramples On our fresh feelings, but--as being participated With all kinds of incorrigible samples Of frail humanity--must make us selfish, And shut our souls up in us like a shell-fish.

XXIV.

This we pass over. We will also pass The usual progress of intrigues between Unequal matches, such as are, alas! A young Lieutenant's with a not old Queen, But one who is not so youthful as she was In all the royalty of sweet seventeen.[jy] Sovereigns may sway materials, but not matter, And wrinkles, the d----d democrats! won't flatter.

XXV.

And Death, the Sovereign's Sovereign, though the great Gracchus of all mortality, who levels, With his Agrarian laws,[538] the high estate Of him who feasts, and fights, and roars, and revels, To one small grass-grown patch (which must await Corruption for its crop) with the poor devils Who never had a foot of land till now,-- Death's a reformer--all men must allow.

XXVI.

He lived (not Death, but Juan) in a hurry Of waste, and haste, and glare, and gloss, and glitter, In this gay clime of bear-skins black and furry-- Which (though I hate to say a thing that's bitter) Peep out sometimes, when things are in a flurry, Through all the "purple and fine linen," fitter For Babylon's than Russia's royal harlot-- And neutralise her outward show of scarlet.

XXVII.

And this same state we won't describe: we would Perhaps from hearsay, or from recollection: But getting nigh grim Dante's "obscure wood,"[539] That horrid equinox, that hateful section Of human years--that half-way house--that rude Hut, whence wise travellers drive with circumspection[jz] Life's sad post-horses o'er the dreary frontier Of Age, and looking back to Youth, give one tear;--

XXVIII.

I won't describe,--that is, if I can help Description; and I won't reflect,--that is, If I can stave off thought, which--as a whelp Clings to its teat--sticks to me through the abyss Of this odd labyrinth; or as the kelp Holds by the rock; or as a lover's kiss Drains its first draught of lips:--but, as I said, I won't philosophise, and will be read.

XXIX.

Juan, instead of courting courts, was courted,-- A thing which happens rarely: this he owed Much to his youth, and much to his reported Valour; much also to the blood he showed, Like a race-horse; much to each dress he sported, Which set the beauty off in which he glowed, As purple clouds befringe the sun; but most He owed to an old woman and his post.

XXX.

He wrote to Spain;--and all his near relations, Perceiving he was in a handsome way Of getting on himself, and finding stations For cousins also, answered the same day. Several prepared themselves for emigrations; And eating ices, were o'erheard to say, That with the addition of a slight pelisse, Madrid's and Moscow's climes were of a piece.

XXXI.

His mother, Donna Inez, finding, too, That in the lieu of drawing on his banker, Where his assets were waxing rather few, He had brought his spending to a handsome anchor,-- Replied, "that she was glad to see him through Those pleasures after which wild youth will hanker; As the sole sign of Man's being in his senses Is--learning to reduce his past expenses.[ka]

XXXII.

"She also recommended him to God, And no less to God's Son, as well as Mother, Warned him against Greek worship, which looks odd In Catholic eyes; but told him, too, to smother Outward dislike, which don't look well abroad; Informed him that he had a little brother Born in a second wedlock; and above All, praised the Empress's maternal love.

XXXIII.

"She could not too much give her approbation Unto an Empress, who preferred young men Whose age, and what was better still, whose nation And climate, stopped all scandal (now and then);-- At home it might have given her some vexation; But where thermometers sink down to ten, Or five, or one, or zero, she could never Believe that Virtue thawed before the river."[kb]

XXXIV.

Oh for a forty-parson power[540]--to chant Thy praise, Hypocrisy! Oh for a hymn Loud as the virtues thou dost loudly vaunt, Not practise! Oh for trump of Cherubim! Or the ear-trumpet of my good old aunt,[541] Who, though her spectacles at last grew dim, Drew quiet consolation through its hint, When she no more could read the pious print.

XXXV.

She was no Hypocrite at least, poor soul, But went to heaven in as sincere a way As anybody on the elected roll, Which portions out upon the Judgment Day Heaven's freeholds, in a sort of Doomsday scroll, Such as the conqueror William did repay His knights with, lotting others' properties Into some sixty thousand new knights' fees.

XXXVI.

I can't complain, whose ancestors are there, Erneis, Radulphus--eight-and-forty manors (If that my memory doth not greatly err) Were their reward for following Billy's banners:[542] And though I can't help thinking 't was scarce fair To strip the Saxons of their hydes[543] like tanners; Yet as they founded churches with the produce, You'll deem, no doubt, they put it to a good use.[kc]

XXXVII.

The gentle Juan flourished, though at times He felt like other plants called sensitive, Which shrink from touch, as Monarchs do from rhymes, Save such as Southey can afford to give. Perhaps he longed in bitter frosts for climes In which the Neva's ice would cease to live Before May-day: perhaps, despite his duty, In Royalty's vast arms he sighed for Beauty:

XXXVIII.

Perhaps--but, sans perhaps, we need not seek[kd] For causes young or old: the canker-worm Will feed upon the fairest, freshest cheek, As well as further drain the withered form: Care, like a housekeeper, brings every week His bills in, and however we may storm, They must be paid: though six days smoothly run, The seventh will bring blue devils or a dun.

XXXIX.

I don't know how it was, but he grew sick: The Empress was alarmed, and her physician (The same who physicked Peter) found the tick Of his fierce pulse betoken a condition Which augured of the dead, however quick Itself, and showed a feverish disposition; At which the whole Court was extremely troubled, The Sovereign shocked, and all his medicines doubled.

XL.

Low were the whispers, manifold the rumours: Some said he had been poisoned by Potemkin; Others talked learnedly of certain tumours, Exhaustion, or disorders of the same kin;[544] Some said 't was a concoction of the humours, Which with the blood too readily will claim kin: Others again were ready to maintain, "'T was only the fatigue of last campaign."

XLI.

But here is one prescription out of many: "Sodae sulphat. ʒvj. ʒfs. Mannae optim. Aq. fervent. f. ℥ ifs. ʒij. tinct. Sennae Haustus" (And here the surgeon came and cupped him) "℞ Pulv. Com. gr. iij. Ipecacuanhæ" (With more beside if Juan had not stopped 'em). "Bolus Potassae Sulphuret. sumendus, Et haustus ter in die capiendus."

XLII.

This is the way physicians mend or end us, Secundum artem: but although we sneer In health--when ill, we call them to attend us, Without the least propensity to jeer; While that "hiatus maxime deflendus" To be filled up by spade or mattock's near, Instead of gliding graciously down Lethe, We tease mild Baillie,[545] or soft Abernethy.

XLIII.

Juan demurred at this first notice to Quit; and though Death had threatened an ejection, His youth and constitution bore him through, And sent the doctors in a new direction. But still his state was delicate: the hue Of health but flickered with a faint reflection Along his wasted cheek, and seemed to gravel The faculty--who said that he must travel.

XLIV.

The climate was too cold, they said, for him, Meridian-born, to bloom in. This opinion Made the chaste Catherine look a little grim, Who did not like at first to lose her minion: But when she saw his dazzling eye wax dim, And drooping like an eagle's with clipt pinion, She then resolved to send him on a mission, But in a style becoming his condition.

XLV.

There was just then a kind of a discussion, A sort of treaty or negotiation, Between the British cabinet and Russian, Maintained with all the due prevarication With which great states such things are apt to push on; Something about the Baltic's navigation, Hides, train-oil, tallow, and the rights of Thetis, Which Britons deem their uti possidetis.

XLVI.

So Catherine, who had a handsome way Of fitting out her favourites, conferred This secret charge on Juan, to display At once her royal splendour, and reward His services. He kissed hands the next day, Received instructions how to play his card, Was laden with all kinds of gifts and honours, Which showed what great discernment was the donor's.

XLVII.

But she was lucky, and luck's all. Your Queens Are generally prosperous in reigning-- Which puzzles us to know what Fortune means:-- But to continue--though her years were waning, Her climacteric teased her like her teens; And though her dignity brooked no complaining, So much did Juan's setting off distress her, She could not find at first a fit successor.

XLVIII.

But Time, the comforter, will come at last; And four-and-twenty hours, and twice that number Of candidates requesting to be placed, Made Catherine taste next night a quiet slumber:-- Not that she meant to fix again in haste, Nor did she find the quantity encumber, But always choosing with deliberation, Kept the place open for their emulation.

XLIX.

While this high post of honour's in abeyance, For one or two days, reader, we request You'll mount with our young hero the conveyance Which wafted him from Petersburgh: the best Barouche, which had the glory to display once The fair Czarina's autocratic crest, When, a new Iphigene, she went to Tauris, Was given to her favourite,[546] and now bore his.

L.

A bull-dog, and a bullfinch, and an ermine, All private favourites of Don Juan;--for (Let deeper sages the true cause determine) He had a kind of inclination, or Weakness, for what most people deem mere vermin, Live animals: an old maid of threescore For cats and birds more penchant ne'er displayed, Although he was not old, nor even a maid;--

LI.

The animals aforesaid occupied Their station: there were valets, secretaries, In other vehicles; but at his side Sat little Leila, who survived the parries He made 'gainst Cossacque sabres in the wide Slaughter of Ismail. Though my wild Muse varies Her note, she don't forget the infant girl Whom he preserved, a pure and living pearl.

LII.

Poor little thing! She was as fair as docile, And with that gentle, serious character, As rare in living beings as a fossile Man, 'midst thy mouldy mammoths, "grand Cuvier!"[ke] Ill fitted was her ignorance to jostle With this o'erwhelming world, where all must err: But she was yet but ten years old, and therefore Was tranquil, though she knew not why or wherefore.

LIII.

Don Juan loved her, and she loved him, as Nor brother, father, sister, daughter love.-- I cannot tell exactly what it was; He was not yet quite old enough to prove Parental feelings, and the other class, Called brotherly affection, could not move His bosom,--for he never had a sister: Ah! if he had--how much he would have missed her!

LIV.

And still less was it sensual; for besides That he was not an ancient debauchee, (Who like sour fruit, to stir their veins' salt tides, As acids rouse a dormant alkali,)[kf] Although ('t will happen as our planet guides) His youth was not the chastest that might be, There was the purest Platonism at bottom Of all his feelings--only he forgot 'em.

LV.

Just now there was no peril of temptation; He loved the infant orphan he had saved, As patriots (now and then) may love a nation; His pride, too, felt that she was not enslaved Owing to him;--as also her salvation Through his means and the Church's might be paved. But one thing's odd, which here must be inserted, The little Turk refused to be converted.

LVI.

'T was strange enough she should retain the impression Through such a scene of change, and dread, and slaughter; But though three Bishops told her the transgression, She showed a great dislike to holy water; She also had no passion for confession; Perhaps she had nothing to confess:--no matter, Whate'er the cause, the Church made little of it-- She still held out that Mahomet was a prophet.

LVII.

In fact, the only Christian she could bear Was Juan; whom she seemed to have selected In place of what her home and friends once were. He naturally loved what he protected: And thus they formed a rather curious pair, A guardian green in years, a ward connected In neither clime, time, blood, with her defender; And yet this want of ties made theirs more tender.

LVIII.

They journeyed on through Poland and through Warsaw, Famous for mines of salt and yokes of iron: Through Courland also, which that famous farce saw Which gave her dukes the graceless name of "Biron."[547] 'T is the same landscape which the modern Mars saw, Who marched to Moscow, led by Fame, the Siren! To lose by one month's frost some twenty years Of conquest, and his guard of Grenadiers.

LIX.

Let this not seem an anti-climax:--"Oh! My guard! my old guard!"[548] exclaimed that god of clay. Think of the Thunderer's falling down below Carotid-artery-cutting Castlereagh![kg] Alas! that glory should be chilled by snow! But should we wish to warm us on our way Through Poland, there is Kosciusko's name Might scatter fire through ice, like Hecla's flame.

LX.

From Poland they came on through Prussia Proper, And Königsberg, the capital, whose vaunt, Besides some veins of iron, lead, or copper, Has lately been the great Professor Kant.[549] Juan, who cared not a tobacco-stopper About philosophy, pursued his jaunt To Germany, whose somewhat tardy millions Have princes who spur more than their postilions.

LXI.

And thence through Berlin, Dresden, and the like, Until he reached the castellated Rhine:-- Ye glorious Gothic scenes! how much ye strike All phantasies, not even excepting mine! A grey wall, a green ruin, rusty pike, Make my soul pass the equinoctial line Between the present and past worlds, and hover Upon their airy confines, half-seas-over.

LXII.

But Juan posted on through Mannheim, Bonn, Which Drachenfels[550] frowns over like a spectre Of the good feudal times for ever gone, On which I have not time just now to lecture. From thence he was drawn onwards to Cologne, A city which presents to the inspector Eleven thousand maiden heads of bone. The greatest number flesh hath ever known.[551]

LXIII.

From thence to Holland's Hague and Helvoetsluys, That water-land of Dutchmen and of ditches, Where juniper expresses its best juice, The poor man's sparkling substitute for riches. Senates and sages have condemned its use-- But to deny the mob a cordial, which is Too often all the clothing, meat, or fuel, Good government has left them, seems but cruel.

LXIV.

Here he embarked, and with a flowing sail Went bounding for the Island of the free, Towards which the impatient wind blew half a gale; High dashed the spray, the bows dipped in the sea, And sea-sick passengers turned somewhat pale; But Juan, seasoned, as he well might be, By former voyages, stood to watch the skiffs Which passed, or catch the first glimpse of the cliffs.

LXV.

At length they rose, like a white wall along The blue sea's border; and Don Juan felt-- What even young strangers feel a little strong At the first sight of Albion's chalky belt-- A kind of pride that he should be among Those haughty shopkeepers, who sternly dealt Their goods and edicts out from pole to pole, And made the very billows pay them toll.

LXVI.

I've no great cause to love that spot of earth, Which holds what might have been the noblest nation; But though I owe it little but my birth, I feel a mixed regret and veneration For its decaying fame and former worth. Seven years (the usual term of transportation) Of absence lay one's old resentments level, When a man's country's going to the devil.

LXVII.

Alas! could she but fully, truly, know How her great name is now throughout abhorred; How eager all the Earth is for the blow Which shall lay bare her bosom to the sword; How all the nations deem her their worst foe, That worse than worst of foes, the once adored False friend, who held out Freedom to Mankind, And now would chain them--to the very mind;--

LXVIII.

Would she be proud, or boast herself the free, Who is but first of slaves? The nations are In prison,--but the gaoler, what is he? No less a victim to the bolt and bar. Is the poor privilege to turn the key Upon the captive, Freedom? He's as far From the enjoyment of the earth and air Who watches o'er the chain, as they who wear.

LXIX.

Don Juan now saw Albion's earliest beauties, Thy cliffs, dear Dover! harbour, and hotel; Thy custom-house, with all its delicate duties; Thy waiters running mucks at every bell; Thy packets, all whose passengers are booties To those who upon land or water dwell; And last, not least, to strangers uninstructed, Thy long, long bills, whence nothing is deducted.

LXX.

Juan, though careless, young, and magnifique, And rich in rubles, diamonds, cash, and credit, Who did not limit much his bills per week, Yet stared at this a little, though he paid it,-- (His Maggior Duomo, a smart, subtle Greek, Before him summed the awful scroll and read it): But, doubtless, as the air--though seldom sunny-- Is free, the respiration's worth the money.

LXXI.

On with the horses! Off to Canterbury! Tramp, tramp o'er pebble, and splash, splash through puddle; Hurrah! how swiftly speeds the post so merry! Not like slow Germany, wherein they muddle Along the road,[552] as if they went to bury Their fare; and also pause besides, to fuddle With "schnapps"--sad dogs! whom "Hundsfot," or "Verflucter,"[553] Affect no more than lightning a conductor.[kh]

LXXII.

Now there is nothing gives a man such spirits, Leavening his blood as cayenne doth a curry, As going at full speed--no matter where its Direction be, so 't is but in a hurry, And merely for the sake of its own merits; For the less cause there is for all this flurry, The greater is the pleasure in arriving At the great end of travel--which is driving.

LXXIII.

They saw at Canterbury the cathedral; Black Edward's helm, and Becket's bloody stone, Were pointed out as usual by the bedral, In the same quaint, uninterested tone:-- There's glory again for you, gentle reader! All Ends in a rusty casque and dubious bone,[554] Half-solved into these sodas or magnesias, Which form that bitter draught, the human species.

LXXIV.

The effect on Juan was of course sublime: He breathed a thousand Cressys, as he saw That casque, which never stooped except to Time. Even the bold Churchman's tomb excited awe, Who died in the then great attempt to climb O'er Kings, who now at least must talk of Law Before they butcher. Little Leila gazed, And asked why such a structure had been raised:

LXXV.

And being told it was "God's House," she said He was well lodged, but only wondered how He suffered Infidels in his homestead, The cruel Nazarenes, who had laid low His holy temples in the lands which bred The True Believers;--and her infant brow Was bent with grief that Mahomet should resign A mosque so noble, flung like pearls to swine.

LXXVI.

On! on! through meadows, managed like a garden, A paradise of hops and high production; For, after years of travel by a bard in Countries of greater heat, but lesser suction, A green field is a sight which makes him pardon The absence of that more sublime construction, Which mixes up vines--olives--precipices-- Glaciers--volcanoes--oranges and ices.

LXXVII.

And when I think upon a pot of beer---- But I won't weep!--and so drive on, postilions! As the smart boys spurred fast in their career, Juan admired these highways of free millions-- A country in all senses the most dear To foreigner or native, save some silly ones, Who "kick against the pricks" just at this juncture, And for their pains get only a fresh puncture.[ki]

LXXVIII.

What a delightful thing's a turnpike road! So smooth, so level, such a mode of shaving The Earth, as scarce the eagle in the broad Air can accomplish, with his wide wings waving. Had such been cut in Phaeton's time, the god Had told his son to satisfy his craving With the York mail;--but onward as we roll, Surgit amari aliquid--the toll![555]

LXXIX.

Alas! how deeply painful is all payment! Take lives--take wives--take aught except men's purses: As Machiavel shows those in purple raiment, Such is the shortest way to general curses.[556] They hate a murderer much less than a claimant On that sweet ore which everybody nurses.-- Kill a man's family, and he may brook it, But keep your hands out of his breeches' pocket:

LXXX.

So said the Florentine: ye monarchs, hearken To your instructor. Juan now was borne, Just as the day began to wane and darken, O'er the high hill, which looks with pride or scorn Toward the great city.--Ye who have a spark in Your veins of Cockney spirit, smile or mourn According as you take things well or ill;-- Bold Britons, we are now on Shooter's Hill!

LXXXI.

The Sun went down, the smoke rose up, as from A half-unquenched volcano, o'er a space Which well beseemed the "Devil's drawing-room," As some have qualified that wondrous place: But Juan felt, though not approaching Home, As one who, though he were not of the race, Revered the soil, of those true sons the mother, Who butchered half the earth, and bullied t' other.[557]

LXXXII.

A mighty mass of brick, and smoke, and shipping, Dirty and dusky, but as wide as eye Could reach, with here and there a sail just skipping In sight, then lost amidst the forestry Of masts; a wilderness of steeples peeping On tiptoe through their sea-coal canopy; A huge, dun Cupola, like a foolscap crown On a fool's head--and there is London Town!

LXXXIII.

But Juan saw not this: each wreath of smoke Appeared to him but as the magic vapour Of some alchymic furnace, from whence broke The wealth of worlds (a wealth of tax and paper): The gloomy clouds, which o'er it as a yoke Are bowed, and put the Sun out like a taper, Were nothing but the natural atmosphere, Extremely wholesome, though but rarely clear.

LXXXIV.

He paused--and so will I; as doth a crew Before they give their broadside. By and by, My gentle countrymen, we will renew Our old acquaintance; and at least I'll try To tell you truths you will not take as true, Because they are so;--a male Mrs. Fry,[558] With a soft besom will I sweep your halls, And brush a web or two from off the walls.

LXXXV.

Oh Mrs. Fry! Why go to Newgate? Why Preach to poor rogues? And wherefore not begin With Carlton, or with other houses? Try Your hand at hardened and imperial Sin. To mend the People's an absurdity, A jargon, a mere philanthropic din, Unless you make their betters better:--Fie! I thought you had more religion, Mrs. Fry.

LXXXVI.

Teach them the decencies of good threescore; Cure them of tours, hussar and highland dresses; Tell them that youth once gone returns no more, That hired huzzas redeem no land's distresses; Tell them Sir William Curtis[559] is a bore, Too dull even for the dullest of excesses-- The witless Falstaff of a hoary Hal, A fool whose bells have ceased to ring at all.

LXXXVII.

Tell them, though it may be, perhaps, too late-- On Life's worn confine, jaded, bloated, sated-- To set up vain pretence of being great, 'T is not so to be good; and, be it stated, The worthiest kings have ever loved least state: And tell them--But you won't, and I have prated Just now enough; but, by and by, I'll prattle Like Roland's horn[560] in Roncesvalles' battle.[kj][561]

FOOTNOTES:

{400}[jt] In a most natural whirling of rotation.--[MS. erased.]

[ju] Since Adam--gloriously against an apple.--[MS. erased.]

[525] ["Neither Pemberton nor Whiston, who received from Newton himself the history of his first Ideas of Gravity, records the story of the falling apple. It was mentioned, however, to Voltaire by Catherine Barton (afterwards Mrs. Conduit), Newton's niece. We saw the apple tree in 1814.... The tree was so much decayed that it was taken down in 1820" (Memoirs, etc., of Sir Isaac Newton, by Sir David Brewster, 1855, i. 27, note 1). Voltaire tells the story thus (Éléments de la Philosophie de Newton, Partie III. chap, iii.): "Un jour, en l'année 1666 [1665], Newton, retiré à la campagne, et voyant tomber des fruits d'un arbre, à ce que m'a conté sa nièce (Madame Conduit), se laissa aller à une méditation profonde sur la cause qui entraîne ainsi tous les corps dans une ligne qui, si elle était prolongée, passerait à peu près par le centre de la terre."--Oeuvres Complètes, 1837, v. 727.]

[jv] To the then unploughed stars----.--[MS. erased.]

{401}[526] [Compare Churchill's Grave, line 23, Poetical Works, 1901, iv. 47, note 1.]

[527] [Shelley entitles him "The Pilgrim of Eternity," in his Adonais (stanza xxx. line 3), which was written and published at Pisa in 1821.]

{402}[528] [Byron left Pisa (Palazzo Lanfranchi on the Arno) for the Villa Saluzzo at Genoa, in the autumn of 1822.]

[jw]: {403} Malicious people--.--[MS. erased.]

[529] ["We think the abuse of Mr. Southey ... by far too savage and intemperate. It is of ill example, we think, in the literary world, and does no honour either to the taste or the temper of the noble author." --Edinburgh Review, February, 1822, vol. xxxvi. p. 445.

"I have read the recent article of Jeffrey ... I suppose the long and the short of it is, that he wishes to provoke me to reply. But I won't, for I owe him a good turn still for his kindness by-gone. Indeed, I presume that the present opportunity of attacking me again was irresistible; and I can't blame him, knowing what human nature is."--Letter to Moore, June 8, 1822, Letters, 1901, vi. 80.]

[jx]--that essence of all Lie.--[MS. erased.]

{404}[530] "Reformers," or rather "Reformed." The Baron Bradwardine in Waverley is authority for the word. [The word is certainly in Butler's Hudibras, Part II. Canto 2--

"Although your Church be opposite To mine as Black Fryars are to White, In Rule and Order, yet I grant You are a Reformado Saint."]

[531] [Stanza XV. is not in the MS. The "legal broom," sc. Brougham, was an afterthought.]

[532] Query, suit?--Printer's Devil.

[533] [It has been argued that when "great Cæsar fell" he wore his "robe" to muffle up his face, and that, in like manner, Jeffrey sank the critic in the lawyer. A "deal likelier" interpretation is that Jeffrey wore "his gown" right royally, as Cæsar wore his "triumphal robe." (See Plutarch's Julius Cæsar, Langhorne's translation, 1838, p. 515.)]

{405}[534] ["I don't like to bore you about the Scotch novels (as they call them, though two of them are English, and the rest half so); but nothing can or could ever persuade me, since I was the first ten minutes in your company, that you are not the man. To me these novels have so much of 'Auld Lang Syne' (I was bred a canny Scot till ten years old), that I never move without them."--Letter to Sir W. Scott, January 12, 1822, Letters, 1901, vi. 4, 5.]

[535] [Compare The Island, Canto II. lines 280-297.]

[536] The brig of Don, near the "auld toun" of Aberdeen, with its one arch, and its black deep salmon stream below, is in my memory as yesterday. I still remember, though perhaps I may misquote, the awful proverb which made me pause to cross it, and yet lean over it with a childish delight, being an only son, at least by the mother's side. The saying as recollected by me was this, but I have never heard or seen it since I was nine years of age:--

"Brig of Balgounie, black's your wa', Wi' a wife's ae son, and a mear's ae foal, Doun ye shall fa'!"

[See for illustration of the Brig o' Balgownie, with its single Gothic arch, Letters, 1901 [L.P.], v. 406. ]

{406}[537]

["Land of brown heath and shaggy wood, Land of the mountain and the flood," etc.

Lay of the Last Minstrel, Canto VI. stanza ii.]

{407}[jy] Some thirty years before at fair eighteen.--[MS.] or, Seven and twenty--which, it does not matter,-- Wrinkles, those damnedst democrats, won't flatter.--[MS. erased.]

[538] Tiberius Gracchus, being tribune of the people, demanded in their name the execution of the Agrarian law; by which all persons possessing above a certain number of acres were to be deprived of the surplus for the benefit of the poor citizens.

{408}[539]

"Mi ritrovai per una selva oscura." Inferno, Canto I. line 2.

[jz] Hut where we travellers bait with dim reflection.--[MS. erased.]

{409}[ka] Is when he learns to limit his expenses.--[MS. erased.]

[kb] ---- till the ice Cracked, she would ne'er believe in thaws for vice.--[MS. erased.]

{410}[540] A metaphor taken from the "forty-horse power" of a steam-engine. That mad wag, the Reverend Sydney Smith, sitting by a brother clergyman at dinner, observed afterwards that his dull neighbour had a "twelve-parson power" of conversation.

[541] [In a letter to his sister, October 25, 1804 (Letters, 1898, i. 40), Byron mentions an aunt--"the amiable antiquated Sophia," and asks, "Is she yet in the land of the living, or does she sing psalms with the Blessed in the other world?" This was his father's sister, Sophia Maria, daughter of Admiral the Hon. John Byron. But his "good old aunt" is, more probably, the Hon. Mrs. Frances Byron, widow of George (born April 22, 1730) son of the fourth, and brother of the "Wicked" lord. She was the daughter and co-heiress of Ellis Levett, Esq., and lived "at Nottingham in her own house." She died, aged 86, June 13, 1822, not long before this Canto was written. She is described in the obituary notice of the Gentleman's Magazine, June, 1822, vol. 92, p. 573, as "Daughter of Vice-Admiral the Hon. John Byron (who sailed round the world with Lord Anson), grandfather of the present Lord Byron." But that is, chronologically, impossible. Byron must have retained a pleasing recollection of the ear-trumpet and the spectacles, and it gratified his kindlier humour to embalm their owner in his verse.]

[542] [See Collins's Peerage, 1779, vii. 120. It is probable that Byron was lineally descended from Ralph de Burun, of Horestan, who is mentioned in Doomsday Book (sect. xi.) as holding eight lordships in Notts and five in Derbyshire, but with regard to Ernysius or Erneis the pedigree is silent. (See Pedigree of George Gordon, Sixth Lord Byron, by Edward Bernard, 1870.)]

{411}[543] "Hyde."--I believe a hyde of land to be a legitimate word, and, as such, subject to the tax of a quibble.

[kc] And humbly hope that the same God which hath given Us land on earth, will do no less in Heaven.--[MS. erased.]

[kd] Perhaps--but d--n perhaps----.--[MS.]

{412}[544] [For the illness ("a scarlet fever, complicated by angina, both aggravated by premature exhaustion") and death of Lanskoï, see The Story of a Throne, by K. Waliszewsky, 1895, ii. 131, 133. For the rumour that he was poisoned by Potemkin, see Mémoires Secrets, etc. [by C.F.P. Masson], 1800, i. 170.]

[545] [Matthew Baillie (1761-1823), the nephew of William Hunter, the brother of Agnes and Joanna Baillie, was a celebrated anatomist. He attended Byron (1799-1802), when an endeavour was made to effect a cure of the muscular contraction of his right leg and foot. He was consulted by Lady Byron, in 1816, with regard to her husband's supposed derangement, but was not admitted when he called at the house in Piccadilly. He is said to have "avoided technical and learned phrases; to have affected no sentimental tenderness, but expressed what he had to say in the simplest and plainest terms" (Annual Biography, 1824, p. 319). Jekyll (Letters, 1894, p. 110) repeats or invents an anecdote that "the old king, in his mad fits, used to say he could bring any dead people to converse with him, except those who had died under Baillie's care, for that the doctor always dissected them into so many morsels, that they had not a leg to walk to Windsor with." It is hardly necessary to say that John Abernethy (1764-1831) "expressed what he had to say" in the bluntest and rudest terms at his disposal.]

[546] The empress went to the Crimea, accompanied by the Emperor Joseph, in the year--I forget which.

[The Prince de Ligne, who accompanied Catherine in her progress through her southern provinces, in 1787, gives the following particulars: "We have crossed during many days vast, solitary regions, from which her Majesty has driven Zaporogua, Budjak, and Nogais Tartars, who, ten years ago, threatened to ravage her empire. All these places were furnished with magnificent tents for breakfasts, lunches, dinners, suppers, and sleeping-rooms ... deserted regions were at once transformed into fields, groves, villages: ... The Empress has left in each chief town gifts to the value of a hundred thousand roubles. Every day that we remained stationary was marked with diamonds, balls, fireworks, and illuminations throughout a circuit of ten leagues." --The Prince de Ligne, His Memoirs, etc., translated by Katharine Prescott Wormeley, 1899, ii. 31.]

{415}[ke] Man, midst thy mouldy mammoths, Cuvier.--[MS.]

{416}[kf] Who like sour fruit to sharpen up the tides Of their salt veins, and stir their stagnancy.--[MS. erased.]

{417}[547] In the Empress Anne's time, Biren, her favourite, assumed the name and arms of the "Birons" of France; which families are yet extant with that of England. There are still the daughters of Courland of that name; one of them I remember seeing in England in the blessed year of the Allies (1814)--the Duchess of S.--to whom the English Duchess of Somerset presented me as a namesake.

["Ernest John Biren was born in Courland [in 1690]. His grandfather had been head groom to James, the third Duke of Courland, and obtained from his master the present of a small estate in land.... In 1714 he made his appearance at St. Petersburg, and solicited the place of page to the Princess Charlotte, wife of the Tzarovitch Alexey; but being contemptuously rejected as a person of mean extraction, retired to Mittau, where he chanced to ingratiate himself with Count Bestuchef, Master of the Household to Anne, widow of Frederic William, Duke of Courland, who resided at Mittau. Being of a handsome figure and polite address, he soon gained the good will of the duchess, and became her secretary and chief favourite. On her being declared sovereign of Russia, Anne called Biren to Petersburg, and the secretary soon became Duke of Courland, and first minister or rather despot of Russia. On the death of Anne, which happened in 1740, Biren, being declared regent, continued daily increasing his vexations and cruelties, till he was arrested, on the 18th of December, only twenty days after he had been appointed to the regency; and at the revolution that ensued he was exiled to the frozen shores of the Oby." Catherine II., by W. Tooke, 1800, i. 160, footnote. He was recalled in 1763, and died in 1772.

In a letter to his sister, dated June 18, 1814, Byron gives a slightly different version of the incident, recorded in his note (vide supra): "The Duchess of Somerset also, to mend matters, insisted on presenting me to a Princess Biron, Duchess of Hohen-God-knows-what, and another person to her two sisters, Birons too. But I flew off, and would not, saying I had had enough of introductions for that night at least."--Letters, 1899, iii. 98. The "daughters of Courland" must have been descendants of "Pierre, dernier Duc de Courlande, De la Maison de Biron," viz. Jeanne Cathérine, born June 24, 1783, who married, in 1801, François Pignatelli de Belmonte, Duc d'Acerenza, and Dorothée, born August 21, 1793, who married, in 1809, Edmond de Talleyrand Périgord, Duc de Talleyrand, nephew to the Bishop of Autun. (See Almanach de Gotha, 1848, pp. 109, 110.)]

{418}[548] [Napoleon's exclamation at the Elysée Bourbon, June 23, 1815. "When his civil counsellors talked of defence, the word wrung from him the bitter ejaculation, 'Ah! my old guard! could they but defend themselves like you!'"--Life of Napoleon Buonaparte, by Sir Walter Scott, Prose Works, 1846, ii. 760.]

[kg] Who now that he is dead has not a foe; The last expired in cut-throat Castlereagh.--[MS. erased.]

[549] [Immanuel Kant, born at Königsberg, in 1729, became Professor and Rector of the University, and died at Königsberg in 1804.]

{419}[550]

["The castled crag of Drachenfels Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine," etc.

Childe Harold, Canto III.]

[551] St. Ursula and her eleven thousand virgins were still extant in 1816, and may be so yet, as much as ever.

{421}[552] ["We left Ratzeburg at 7 o'clock Wednesday evening, and arrived at Lüneburg--i.e. 35 English miles--at 3 o'clock on Thursday afternoon. This is a fair specimen! In England I used to laugh at the 'flying waggons;' but compared with a German Post-Coach, the metaphor is perfectly justifiable, and for the future I shall never meet a flying waggon without thinking respectfully of its speed."--S.T. Coleridge, March 12, 1799, Letters of S.T.C., 1895, i. 278.]

[553] [See for German oaths, "Extracts from a Diary," January 12, 1821, Letters, 1901, v. 172.]

[kh] With "Schnapps"--Democritus would cease to smile, By German, post-boys driven a mile.--[MS.] With "Schnapps"--and spite of "Dam'em," "dog" and "log" Launched at their heads jog-jog-jog-jog-jog-jog.--[MS. erased.]

{422}[554] [The French Inscription (see Memorial Inscriptions, etc., by Joseph Meadows Cowper, 1897, p. 134) on the Black Prince's monument is thus translated in the History of Kent (John Weevers' Funerall Monuments, 1636, pp. 205, 206)--

"Who so thou be that passeth by Where this corps entombed lie, Understand what I shall say, As at this time, speake I may. Such as thou art, sometime was I. Such as I am, shalt thou be. I little thought on th' oure of death, So long as I enjoyéd breath. Great riches here did I possess, Whereof I made great nobleness; I had gold, silver, wardrobes, and Great treasure, horses, houses, land. But now a caitife poore am I, Deepe in the ground, lo! here I lie; My beautie great is all quite gone, My flesh is wasted to the bone. My house is narrow now and throng, Nothing but Truth comes from my tongue. And if ye should see me this day, I do not think but ye would say, That I had never beene a man, So much altered now I am."]

{423}[ki] ---- of higher stations, And for their pains get smarter puncturations.--[MS. erased.]

{424}[555] [See Childe Harold, Canto I. stanza xxxii. line 2, Poetical Works, 1899, ii. 93, note 16.]

[556] [See The Prince (Il Principe), chap. xvii., by Niccolò Machiavelli, translated by Ninian Hill Thomson, 1897, p. 121: "But above all [a Prince] must abstain from the property of others. For men will sooner forget the death of their father than the loss of their patrimony."]

[557] [India; America.]

{425}[558] [Elizabeth Fry (1780-1845) began her visits to Newgate in 1813. In 1820 she corresponded with the Princess Sophie of Russia, and at a later period she was entertained by Louis Philippe, and by the King of Prussia at Kaiserwerth. She might have, she may have, admonished George IV. "with regard to all good things."]

{426}[559] [See The Age of Bronze, line 768, Poetical Works, 1901, v. 578, note 1.]

[560]

["O for a blast of that dread horn, On Fontarabian echoes borne, That to King Charles did come, When Rowland brave, and Olivier, And every paladin and peer, On Roncesvalles died."

Marmion, Canto VI. stanza xxxiii. lines 7-12.]

[kj] Like an old Roman trumpet ere a battle.--[MS. erased.]

[561] B. Genoa, Oct. 6^th^, 1822. End of Canto 10^th^.

CANTO THE ELEVENTH.

I.

WHEN Bishop Berkeley said "there was no matter,"[562] And proved it--'t was no matter what he said: They say his system 't is in vain to batter, Too subtle for the airiest human head; And yet who can believe it? I would shatter Gladly all matters down to stone or lead, Or adamant, to find the World a spirit, And wear my head, denying that I wear it.

II.

What a sublime discovery 't was to make the Universe universal egotism, That all's ideal--all ourselves!--I'll stake the World (be it what you will) that that's no schism. Oh Doubt!--if thou be'st Doubt, for which some take thee, But which I doubt extremely--thou sole prism Of the Truth's rays, spoil not my draught of spirit! Heaven's brandy, though our brain can hardly bear it.

III.

For ever and anon comes Indigestion (Not the most "dainty Ariel"),[563] and perplexes Our soarings with another sort of question: And that which after all my spirit vexes, Is, that I find no spot where Man can rest eye on, Without confusion of the sorts and sexes, Of Beings, Stars, and this unriddled wonder, The World, which at the worst's a glorious blunder--

IV.

If it be chance--or, if it be according To the old text, still better:--lest it should Turn out so, we 'll say nothing 'gainst the wording, As several people think such hazards rude. They're right; our days are too brief for affording Space to dispute what no one ever could Decide, and everybody one day will Know very clearly--or at least lie still.

V.

And therefore will I leave off metaphysical Discussion, which is neither here nor there: If I agree that what is, is; then this I call Being quite perspicuous and extremely fair; The truth is, I've grown lately rather phthisical:[564] I don't know what the reason is--the air Perhaps; but as I suffer from the shocks Of illness, I grow much more orthodox.

VI.

The first attack at once proved the Divinity (But that I never doubted, nor the Devil); The next, the Virgin's mystical virginity; The third, the usual Origin of Evil; The fourth at once established the whole Trinity On so uncontrovertible a level, That I devoutly wished the three were four-- On purpose to believe so much the more.

VII.

To our theme.--The man who has stood on the Acropolis, And looked down over Attica; or he Who has sailed where picturesque Constantinople is, Or seen Timbuctoo, or hath taken tea In small-eyed China's crockery-ware metropolis, Or sat amidst the bricks of Nineveh,[kk] May not think much of London's first appearance-- But ask him what he thinks of it a year hence!

VIII.

Don Juan had got out on Shooter's Hill; Sunset the time, the place the same declivity Which looks along that vale of Good and Ill Where London streets ferment in full activity, While everything around was calm and still, Except the creak of wheels, which on their pivot he Heard,--and that bee-like, bubbling, busy hum Of cities, that boil over with their scum:--

IX.

I say, Don Juan, wrapped in contemplation, Walked on behind his carriage, o'er the summit, And lost in wonder of so great a nation, Gave way to 't, since he could not overcome it. "And here," he cried, "is Freedom's chosen station; Here peals the People's voice, nor can entomb it Racks--prisons--inquisitions; Resurrection Awaits it, each new meeting or election.

X.

"Here are chaste wives, pure lives; here people pay But what they please; and if that things be dear, 'T is only that they love to throw away Their cash, to show how much they have a-year. Here laws are all inviolate--none lay Traps for the traveller--every highway's clear-- Here"--he was interrupted by a knife, With--"Damn your eyes! your money or your life!"--

XI.

These free-born sounds proceeded from four pads In ambush laid, who had perceived him loiter Behind his carriage; and, like handy lads, Had seized the lucky hour to reconnoitre, In which the heedless gentleman who gads Upon the road, unless he prove a fighter, May find himself within that isle of riches Exposed to lose his life as well as breeches.

XII.

Juan, who did not understand a word Of English, save their shibboleth, "God damn!"[565] And even that he had so rarely heard, He sometimes thought 't was only their "Salām," Or "God be with you!"--and 't is not absurd To think so,--for half English as I am (To my misfortune), never can I say I heard them wish "God with you," save that way;--

XIII.

Juan yet quickly understood their gesture, And being somewhat choleric and sudden, Drew forth a pocket pistol from his vesture, And fired it into one assailant's pudding-- Who fell, as rolls an ox o'er in his pasture, And roared out, as he writhed his native mud in, Unto his nearest follower or henchman, "Oh Jack! I'm floored by that 'ere bloody Frenchman!"

XIV.

On which Jack and his train set off at speed, And Juan's suite, late scattered at a distance, Came up, all marvelling at such a deed, And offering, as usual, late assistance. Juan, who saw the moon's late minion[566] bleed As if his veins would pour out his existence, Stood calling out for bandages and lint, And wished he had been less hasty with his flint.

XV.

"Perhaps," thought he, "it is the country's wont To welcome foreigners in this way: now I recollect some innkeepers who don't Differ, except in robbing with a bow, In lieu of a bare blade and brazen front-- But what is to be done? I can't allow The fellow to lie groaning on the road: So take him up--I'll help you with the load."

XVI.

But ere they could perform this pious duty, The dying man cried, "Hold! I've got my gruel! Oh! for a glass of max![567] We've missed our booty; Let me die where I am!" And as the fuel Of Life shrunk in his heart, and thick and sooty The drops fell from his death-wound, and he drew ill His breath,--he from his swelling throat untied A kerchief, crying, "Give Sal that!"--and died.

XVII.

The cravat stained with bloody drops fell down Before Don Juan's feet: he could not tell Exactly why it was before him thrown, Nor what the meaning of the man's farewell. Poor Tom was once a kiddy upon town, A thorough varmint, and a real swell, Full flash,[568] all fancy, until fairly diddled, His pockets first and then his body riddled.

XVIII.

Don Juan, having done the best he could In all the circumstances of the case, As soon as "Crowner's quest"[569] allowed, pursued His travels to the capital apace;-- Esteeming it a little hard he should In twelve hours' time, and very little space, Have been obliged to slay a free-born native In self-defence: this made him meditative.

XIX.

He from the world had cut off a great man, Who in his time had made heroic bustle. Who in a row like Tom could lead the van, Booze in the ken, or at the spellken hustle? Who queer a flat?[570] Who (spite of Bow-street's ban) On the high toby-spice so flash the muzzle? Who on a lark with black-eyed Sal (his blowing), So prime--so swell--so nutty--and so knowing?[kl][571]

XX.

But Tom's no more--and so no more of Tom. Heroes must die; and by God's blessing 't is Not long before the most of them go home. Hail! Thamis, hail! Upon thy verge it is That Juan's chariot, rolling like a drum In thunder, holds the way it can't well miss, Through Kennington and all the other "tons," Which make us wish ourselves in town at once;--

XXI.

Through Groves, so called as being void of trees, (Like lucus from no light); through prospects named Mount Pleasant, as containing nought to please, Nor much to climb; through little boxes framed Of bricks, to let the dust in at your ease, With "To be let," upon their doors proclaimed; Through "Rows" most modestly called "Paradise,"[572] Which Eve might quit without much sacrifice;--[km]

XXII.

Through coaches, drays, choked turnpikes, and a whirl Of wheels, and roar of voices, and confusion; Here taverns wooing to a pint of "purl,"[573] There mails fast flying off like a delusion; There barbers' blocks with periwigs in curl In windows; here the lamplighter's infusion Slowly distilled into the glimmering glass (For in those days we had not got to gas--);[kn][574]

XXIII.

Through this, and much, and more, is the approach Of travellers to mighty Babylon: Whether they come by horse, or chaise, or coach, With slight exceptions, all the ways seem one. I could say more, but do not choose to encroach Upon the Guide-book's privilege. The Sun Had set some time, and night was on the ridge Of twilight, as the party crossed the bridge.

XXIV.

That's rather fine, the gentle sound of Thamis-- Who vindicates a moment, too, his stream-- Though hardly heard through multifarious "damme's:" The lamps of Westminster's more regular gleam, The breadth of pavement, and yon shrine where Fame is A spectral resident--whose pallid beam In shape of moonshine hovers o'er the pile-- Make this a sacred part of Albion's isle.

XXV.

The Druids' groves are gone--so much the better: Stonehenge is not--but what the devil is it?-- But Bedlam still exists with its sage fetter, That madmen may not bite you on a visit; The Bench too seats or suits full many a debtor; The Mansion House,[575] too (though some people quiz it), To me appears a stiff yet grand erection; But then the Abbey's worth the whole collection.

XXVI.

The line of lights,[576] too, up to Charing Cross, Pall Mall, and so forth, have a coruscation Like gold as in comparison to dross, Matched with the Continent's illumination, Whose cities Night by no means deigns to gloss. The French were not yet a lamp-lighting nation, And when they grew so--on their new-found lantern, Instead of wicks, they made a wicked man turn.[577]

XXVII.

A row of Gentlemen along the streets Suspended may illuminate mankind, As also bonfires made of country seats; But the old way is best for the purblind: The other looks like phosphorus on sheets, A sort of ignis fatuus to the mind, Which, though 't is certain to perplex and frighten, Must burn more mildly ere it can enlighten.

XXVIII.

But London's so well lit, that if Diogenes Could recommence to hunt his honest man, And found him not amidst the various progenies Of this enormous City's spreading span, 'T were not for want of lamps to aid his dodging his Yet undiscovered treasure. What I can, I've done to find the same throughout Life's journey, But see the World is only one attorney.

XXIX.

Over the stones still rattling, up Pall Mall, Through crowds and carriages, but waxing thinner As thundered knockers broke the long sealed spell Of doors 'gainst duns, and to an early dinner Admitted a small party as night fell,-- Don Juan, our young diplomatic sinner, Pursued his path, and drove past some hotels, St. James's Palace, and St. James's "Hells."[578]

XXX.

They reached the hotel: forth streamed from the front door[ko] A tide of well-clad waiters, and around The mob stood, and as usual several score Of those pedestrian Paphians who abound In decent London when the daylight's o'er; Commodious but immoral, they are found Useful, like Malthus, in promoting marriage.-- But Juan now is stepping from his carriage

XXXI.

Into one of the sweetest of hotels,[kp][579] Especially for foreigners--and mostly For those whom favour or whom Fortune swells, And cannot find a bill's small items costly. There many an envoy either dwelt or dwells (The den of many a diplomatic lost lie), Until to some conspicuous square they pass, And blazon o'er the door their names in brass.

XXXII.

Juan, whose was a delicate commission, Private, though publicly important, bore No title to point out with due precision The exact affair on which he was sent o'er. 'T was merely known, that on a secret mission A foreigner of rank had graced our shore, Young, handsome, and accomplished, who was said (In whispers) to have turned his Sovereign's head.

XXXIII.

Some rumour also of some strange adventures Had gone before him, and his wars and loves; And as romantic heads are pretty painters, And, above all, an Englishwoman's roves[kq] Into the excursive, breaking the indentures Of sober reason, wheresoe'er it moves, He found himself extremely in the fashion, Which serves our thinking people for a passion.

XXXIV.

I don't mean that they are passionless, but quite The contrary; but then 't is in the head; Yet as the consequences are as bright As if they acted with the heart instead, What after all can signify the site Of ladies' lucubrations? So they lead In safety to the place for which you start, What matters if the road be head or heart?

XXXV.

Juan presented in the proper place, To proper placemen, every Russ credential; And was received with all the due grimace By those who govern in the mood potential, Who, seeing a handsome stripling with smooth face, Thought (what in state affairs is most essential), That they as easily might do the youngster, As hawks may pounce upon a woodland songster.

XXXVI.

They erred, as agéd men will do; but by And by we'll talk of that; and if we don't, 'T will be because our notion is not high Of politicians and their double front, Who live by lies, yet dare not boldly lie:-- Now what I love in women is, they won't Or can't do otherwise than lie--but do it So well, the very Truth seems falsehood to it.

XXXVII.

And, after all, what is a lie? 'T is but The truth in masquerade; and I defy[kr] Historians--heroes--lawyers--priests, to put A fact without some leaven of a lie. The very shadow of true Truth would shut Up annals--revelations--poesy, And prophecy--except it should be dated Some years before the incidents related.

XXXVIII.

Praised be all liars and all lies! Who now Can tax my mild Muse with misanthropy? She rings the World's "Te Deum," and her brow Blushes for those who will not:--but to sigh Is idle; let us like most others bow, Kiss hands--feet--any part of Majesty, After the good example of "Green Erin,"[580] Whose shamrock now seems rather worse for wearing.[ks]

XXXIX.

Don Juan was presented, and his dress And mien excited general admiration-- I don't know which was more admired or less: One monstrous diamond drew much observation, Which Catherine in a moment of "ivresse" (In Love or Brandy's fervent fermentation), Bestowed upon him, as the public learned; And, to say truth, it had been fairly earned.

XL.

Besides the ministers and underlings, Who must be courteous to the accredited Diplomatists of rather wavering Kings, Until their royal riddle's fully read, The very clerks,--those somewhat dirty springs Of Office, or the House of Office, fed By foul corruption into streams,--even they Were hardly rude enough to earn their pay:

XLI.

And insolence no doubt is what they are Employed for, since it is their daily labour, In the dear offices of Peace or War; And should you doubt, pray ask of your next neighbour, When for a passport, or some other bar To freedom, he applied (a grief and a bore), If he found not this spawn of tax-born riches, Like lap-dogs, the least civil sons of b-----s.

XLII.

But Juan was received with much "empressement:"-- These phrases of refinement I must borrow From our next neighbours' land, where, like a chessman, There is a move set down for joy or sorrow, Not only in mere talking, but the press. Man In Islands is, it seems, downright and thorough, More than on Continents--as if the Sea (See Billingsgate) made even the tongue more free.

XLIII.

And yet the British "Damme"'s rather Attic, Your continental oaths are but incontinent, And turn on things which no aristocratic Spirit would name, and therefore even I won't anent[581] This subject quote; as it would be schismatic In politesse, and have a sound affronting in 't;-- But "Damme"'s quite ethereal, though too daring-- Platonic blasphemy--the soul of swearing.[kt]

XLIV.

For downright rudeness, ye may stay at home; For true or false politeness (and scarce _that Now_) you may cross the blue deep and white foam-- The first the emblem (rarely though) of what You leave behind, the next of much you come To meet. However, 't is no time to chat On general topics: poems must confine Themselves to unity, like this of mine.[ku]

XLV.

In the great world,--which, being interpreted, Meaneth the West or worst end of a city, And about twice two thousand people bred By no means to be very wise or witty, But to sit up while others lie in bed, And look down on the Universe with pity,-- Juan, as an inveterate patrician, Was well received by persons of condition.

XLVI.

He was a bachelor, which is a matter Of import both to virgin and to bride, The former's hymeneal hopes to flatter; And (should she not hold fast by Love or Pride) 'T is also of some moment to the latter: A rib's a thorn in a wed gallant's side, Requires decorum, and is apt to double The horrid sin--and what's still worse, the trouble.

XLVII.

But Juan was a bachelor--of arts, And parts, and hearts: he danced and sung, and had An air as sentimental as Mozart's Softest of melodies; and could be sad Or cheerful, without any "flaws or starts,"[582] Just at the proper time: and though a lad, Had seen the world--which is a curious sight, And very much unlike what people write.

XLVIII.

Fair virgins blushed upon him; wedded dames Bloomed also in less transitory hues;[kv] For both commodities dwell by the Thames, The painting and the painted; Youth, Ceruse,[kw] Against his heart preferred their usual claims, Such as no gentleman can quite refuse: Daughters admired his dress, and pious mothers Inquired his income, and if he had brothers.

XLIX.

The milliners who furnish "drapery Misses"[583] Throughout the season, upon speculation Of payment ere the Honeymoon's last kisses Have waned into a crescent's coruscation, Thought such an opportunity as this is, Of a rich foreigner's initiation, Not to be overlooked--and gave such credit, That future bridegrooms swore, and sighed, and paid it.

L.

The Blues, that tender tribe, who sigh o'er sonnets, And with the pages of the last Review Line the interior of their heads or bonnets, Advanced in all their azure's highest hue: They talked bad French or Spanish, and upon its Late authors asked him for a hint or two; And which was softest, Russian or Castilian? And whether in his travels he saw Ilion?

LI.

Juan, who was a little superficial, And not in literature a great Drawcansir,[584] Examined by this learnéd and especial Jury of matrons, scarce knew what to answer: His duties warlike, loving or official, His steady application as a dancer, Had kept him from the brink of Hippocrene, Which now he found was blue instead of green.

LII.

However, he replied at hazard, with A modest confidence and calm assurance, Which lent his learnéd lucubrations pith, And passed for arguments of good endurance. That prodigy, Miss Araminta Smith (Who at sixteen translated "Hercules Furens" Into as furious English), with her best look, Set down his sayings in her common-place book.

LIII.

Juan knew several languages--as well He might--and brought them up with skill, in time To save his fame with each accomplished belle, Who still regretted that he did not rhyme. There wanted but this requisite to swell His qualities (with them) into sublime: Lady Fitz-Frisky, and Miss Maevia Mannish, Both longed extremely to be sung in Spanish.

LIV.

However, he did pretty well, and was Admitted as an aspirant to all The coteries, and, as in Banquo's glass, At great assemblies or in parties small, He saw ten thousand living authors pass, That being about their average numeral; Also the eighty "greatest living poets,"[585] As every paltry magazine can show it's.

LV.

In twice five years the "greatest living poet," Like to the champion in the fisty ring, Is called on to support his claim, or show it, Although 't is an imaginary thing. Even I--albeit I'm sure I did not know it, Nor sought of foolscap subjects to be king,-- Was reckoned, a considerable time, The grand Napoleon of the realms of rhyme.[kx]

LVI.

But Juan was my Moscow, and Faliero My Leipsic, and my Mont Saint Jean seems Cain:[586] La Belle Alliance of dunces down at zero, Now that the Lion's fallen, may rise again: But I will fall at least as fell my Hero; Nor reign at all, or as a monarch reign; Or to some lonely isle of gaolers go, With turncoat Southey for my turnkey Lowe.[ky]

LVII.

Sir Walter reigned before me; Moore and Campbell Before and after; but now grown more holy, The Muses upon Sion's hill must ramble With poets almost clergymen, or wholly; And Pegasus has a psalmodic amble Beneath the very Reverend Rowley Powley,[kz][587] Who shoes the glorious animal with stilts, A modern Ancient Pistol--"by these hilts!"[588]

LVIII.

Still he excels that artificial hard Labourer in the same vineyard, though the vine Yields him but vinegar for his reward.-- That neutralised dull Dorus of the Nine; That swarthy Sporus, neither man nor bard; That ox of verse, who ploughs for every line:-- Cambyses' roaring Romans beat at least The howling Hebrews of Cybele's priest.--[589]

LIX.

Then there's my gentle Euphues,--who, they say,[la] Sets up for being a sort of moral me;[590] He'll find it rather difficult some day To turn out both, or either, it may be. Some persons think that Coleridge hath the sway; And Wordsworth has supporters, two or three; And that deep-mouthed Boeotian "Savage Landor"[591] Has taken for a swan rogue Southey's gander.

LX.

John Keats, who was killed off by one critique, Just as he really promised something great, If not intelligible, without Greek Contrived to talk about the gods of late, Much as they might have been supposed to speak.[592] Poor fellow! His was an untoward fate; 'T is strange the mind, that very fiery particle,[lb][593] Should let itself be snuffed out by an article.

LXI.

The list grows long of live and dead pretenders To that which none will gain--or none will know The conqueror at least; who, ere Time renders His last award, will have the long grass grow Above his burnt-out brain, and sapless cinders. If I might augur, I should rate but low Their chances;--they're too numerous, like the thirty[594] Mock tyrants, when Rome's annals waxed but dirty.

LXII.

This is the literary lower empire, Where the praetorian bands take up the matter;-- A "dreadful trade," like his who "gathers samphire,"[595] The insolent soldiery to soothe and flatter, With the same feelings as you'd coax a vampire. Now, were I once at home, and in good satire, I'd try conclusions with those Janizaries, And show them what an intellectual war is.

LXIII.

I think I know a trick or two, would turn Their flanks;--but it is hardly worth my while, With such small gear to give myself concern: Indeed I've not the necessary bile; My natural temper's really aught but stern, And even my Muse's worst reproof's a smile; And then she drops a brief and modern curtsy, And glides away, assured she never hurts ye.

LXIV.

My Juan, whom I left in deadly peril Amongst live poets and blue ladies, passed With some small profit through that field so sterile, Being tired in time--and, neither least nor last, Left it before he had been treated very ill; And henceforth found himself more gaily classed Amongst the higher spirits of the day, The Sun's true son, no vapour, but a ray.

LXV.

His morns he passed in business--which dissected, Was, like all business, a laborious nothing That leads to lassitude, the most infected And Centaur Nessus garb of mortal clothing,[596] And on our sofas makes us lie dejected, And talk in tender horrors of our loathing All kinds of toil, save for our country's good-- Which grows no better, though 't is time it should.

LXVI.

His afternoons he passed in visits, luncheons, Lounging and boxing; and the twilight hour In riding round those vegetable puncheons Called "Parks," where there is neither fruit nor flower Enough to gratify a bee's slight munchings; But after all it is the only "bower"[597] (In Moore's phrase) where the fashionable fair Can form a slight acquaintance with fresh air.

LXVII.

Then dress, then dinner, then awakes the world! Then glare the lamps, then whirl the wheels, then roar Through street and square fast flashing chariots hurled Like harnessed meteors; then along the floor Chalk mimics painting; then festoons are twirled; Then roll the brazen thunders of the door, Which opens to the thousand happy few An earthly Paradise of Or Molu.

LXVIII.

There stands the noble hostess, nor shall sink With the three-thousandth curtsy; there the waltz, The only dance which teaches girls to think,[598] Makes one in love even with its very faults. Saloon, room, hall, o'erflow beyond their brink, And long the latest of arrivals halts, 'Midst royal dukes and dames condemned to climb, And gain an inch of staircase at a time.

LXIX.

Thrice happy he who, after a survey Of the good company, can win a corner, A door that's in or boudoir out of the way, Where he may fix himself like small "Jack Horner," And let the Babel round run as it may, And look on as a mourner, or a scorner, Or an approver, or a mere spectator, Yawning a little as the night grows later.

LXX.

But this won't do, save by and by; and he Who, like Don Juan, takes an active share, Must steer with care through all that glittering sea Of gems and plumes and pearls and silks, to where He deems it is his proper place to be; Dissolving in the waltz to some soft air, Or proudlier prancing with mercurial skill, Where Science marshals forth her own quadrille.

LXXI.

Or, if he dance not, but hath higher views Upon an heiress or his neighbour's bride, Let him take care that that which he pursues Is not at once too palpably descried: Full many an eager gentleman oft rues His haste; Impatience is a blundering guide Amongst a people famous for reflection, Who like to play the fool with circumspection.

LXXII.

But, if you can contrive, get next at supper; Or, if forestalled, get opposite and ogle:-- Oh, ye ambrosial moments! always upper In mind, a sort of sentimental bogle,[599] Which sits for ever upon Memory's crupper, The ghost of vanished pleasures once in vogue! Ill Can tender souls relate the rise and fall Of hopes and fears which shake a single ball.

LXXIII.

But these precautionary hints can touch Only the common run, who must pursue, And watch and ward; whose plans a word too much Or little overturns; and not the few Or many (for the number's sometimes such) Whom a good mien, especially if new, Or fame--or name--for Wit, War, Sense, or Nonsense, Permits whate'er they please,--or did not long since.

LXXIV.

Our Hero--as a hero--young and handsome, Noble, rich, celebrated, and a stranger, Like other slaves of course must pay his ransom, Before he can escape from so much danger As will environ a conspicuous man. Some Talk about poetry, and "rack and manger," And ugliness, disease, as toil and trouble;-- I wish they knew the life of a young noble.

LXXV.

They are young, but know not Youth--it is anticipated; Handsome but wasted, rich without a sou;[lc] Their vigour in a thousand arms is dissipated; Their cash comes from, their wealth goes to a Jew; Both senates see their nightly votes participated Between the Tyrant's and the Tribunes' crew; And having voted, dined, drunk, gamed, and whored, The family vault receives another Lord.

LXXVI.

"Where is the World?" cries Young, at eighty[600]--"Where The World in which a man was born?" Alas! Where is the world of eight years past? 'T was there-- I look for it--'t is gone, a globe of glass! Cracked, shivered, vanished, scarcely gazed on, ere[ld] A silent change dissolves the glittering mass. Statesmen, Chiefs, Orators, Queens, Patriots, Kings, And Dandies--all are gone on the Wind's wings.

LXXVII.

Where is Napoleon the Grand? God knows! Where little Castlereagh? The devil can tell! Where Grattan, Curran, Sheridan--all those Who bound the Bar or Senate in their spell? Where is the unhappy Queen, with all her woes? And where the Daughter, whom the Isles loved well? Where are those martyred saints the Five per Cents?[le][601] And where--oh, where the devil are the Rents?

LXXVIII.

Where's Brummell? Dished. Where's Long Pole Wellesley?[602] Diddled. Where's Whitbread? Romilly? Where's George the Third? Where is his will?[603] (That's not so soon unriddled.) And where is "Fum" the Fourth, our "royal bird?"[604] Gone down, it seems, to Scotland to be fiddled Unto by Sawney's violin, we have heard: "Caw me, caw thee"--for six months hath been hatching This scene of royal itch and loyal scratching.

LXXIX.

Where is Lord This? And where my Lady That? The Honourable Mistresses and Misses? Some laid aside like an old Opera hat, Married, unmarried, and remarried: (this is An evolution oft performed of late). Where are the Dublin shouts--and London hisses? Where are the Grenvilles? Turned as usual. Where My friends the Whigs? Exactly where they were.

LXXX.

Where are the Lady Carolines and Franceses?[605] Divorced or doing thereanent. Ye annals So brilliant, where the list of routs and dances is,-- Thou Morning Post, sole record of the panels Broken in carriages, and all the phantasies Of fashion,--say what streams now fill those channels? Some die, some fly, some languish on the Continent, Because the times have hardly left them one tenant.

LXXXI.

Some who once set their caps at cautious dukes,[lf] Have taken up at length with younger brothers: Some heiresses have bit at sharpers' hooks: Some maids have been made wives, some merely mothers: Others have lost their fresh and fairy looks: In short, the list of alterations bothers. There's little strange in this, but something strange is The unusual quickness of these common changes.

LXXXII.

Talk not of seventy years as age; in seven I have seen more changes, down from monarchs to The humblest individuals under Heaven, Than might suffice a moderate century through. I knew that nought was lasting, but now even Change grows too changeable, without being new: Nought's permanent among the human race, Except the Whigs not getting into place.

LXXXIII.

I have seen Napoleon, who seemed quite a Jupiter, Shrink to a Saturn. I have seen a Duke (No matter which) turn politician stupider, If that can well be, than his wooden look. But it is time that I should hoist my "blue Peter," And sail for a new theme:--I have seen--and shook To see it--the King hissed, and then caressed; But don't pretend to settle which was best.

LXXXIV.

I have seen the Landholders without a rap-- I have seen Joanna Southcote--I have seen The House of Commons turned to a tax-trap-- I have seen that sad affair of the late Queen-- I have seen crowns worn instead of a fool's cap-- I have seen a Congress[606] doing all that's mean-- I have seen some nations, like o'erloaded asses, Kick off their burthens--meaning the high classes.

LXXXV.

I have seen small poets, and great prosers, and Interminable--not eternal--speakers-- I have seen the funds at war with house and land-- I have seen the country gentlemen turn squeakers-- I have seen the people ridden o'er like sand By slaves on horseback--I have seen malt liquors Exchanged for "thin potations"[607] by John Bull-- I have seen John half detect himself a fool.--

LXXXVI.

But "carpe diem," Juan, "carpe, carpe!"[608] To-morrow sees another race as gay And transient, and devoured by the same harpy. "Life's a poor player,"[609]--then "play out the play,[610] Ye villains!" and above all keep a sharp eye Much less on what you do than what you say: Be hypocritical, be cautious, be Not what you seem, but always what you see.

LXXXVII.

But how shall I relate in other cantos Of what befell our hero in the land, Which 't is the common cry and lie to vaunt as A moral country? But I hold my hand-- For I disdain to write an Atalantis;[611] But 't is as well at once to understand, You are not a moral people, and you know it, Without the aid of too sincere a poet.

LXXXVIII.

What Juan saw and underwent shall be My topic, with of course the due restriction Which is required by proper courtesy; And recollect the work is only fiction, And that I sing of neither mine nor me, Though every scribe, in some slight turn of diction, Will hint allusions never meant. Ne'er doubt This--when I speak, I don't hint, but speak out.

LXXXIX.

Whether he married with the third or fourth Offspring of some sage husband-hunting countess, Or whether with some virgin of more worth (I mean in Fortune's matrimonial bounties), He took to regularly peopling Earth, Of which your lawful, awful wedlock fount is,-- Or whether he was taken in for damages, For being too excursive in his homages,--

XC.

Is yet within the unread events of Time. Thus far, go forth, thou Lay, which I will back Against the same given quantity of rhyme, For being as much the subject of attack As ever yet was any work sublime, By those who love to say that white is black. So much the better!--I may stand alone, But would not change my free thoughts for a throne.[612]

FOOTNOTES:

{427}[562] [Berkeley did not deny the reality of existence, but the reality of matter as an abstract conception. "It is plain," he says (On the Principles of Human Knowledge, sect. ix.), "that the very notion of what is called matter or corporeal substance, involves a contradiction in it." Again, "It were a mistake to think that what is here said derogates in the least from the reality of things." His contention was that this reality depended, not on an abstraction called matter, "an inert, extended unperceiving substance," but on "those unextended, indivisible substances or spirits, which act, and think, and perceive them [unthinking beings]."--Ibid., sect. xci., The Works of George Berkeley, D.D., 1820, i. 27, 69, 70.]

{428}[563] [Tempest, act v. sc. i, line 95.]

[564] ["I have been very unwell--four days confined to my bed in 'the worst inn's worst room' at Lerici, with a violent rheumatic and bilious attack, constipation, and the devil knows what."--Letter to Murray, October 9, 1822, Letters, 1901, vi. 121. The same letter contains an announcement that he had "a fifth [Canto of Don Juan] (the 10th) finished, but not transcribed yet; and the eleventh begun."]

{429}[kk] Or Rome, or Tiber--Naples or the sea.--[MS. erased.]

{430}[565] [Vide ante, Canto I. stanza xiv. lines 7, 8.]

{431}[566] ["Falstaff. Let us be Diana's foresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions of the moon: and let men say, we be men of good government; being governed, as the sea is, by our noble and chaste mistress the moon, under whose countenance we--steal."-I Henry IV., act i. sc. 2, lines 24-28.]

[567] [Gin. Hence the antithesis of "All Max" in the East to Almack's in the West. (See Life in London, by Pierce Egan, 1823, pp. 284-290.)]

[568] [According to the Vocabulary of the Flash Language, compiled by James Hardy Vaux, in 1812, and published at the end of his Memoirs, 1819, ii. 149-227, a kiddy, or "flash-kiddy," is a thief of the lower orders, who, when he is breeched by a course of successful depredation dresses in the extreme of vulgar gentility, and affects a knowingness in his air and conversation. A "swell" or "rank swell" ("real swell" appears in Egan's Life in London) is the more recent "toff;" and "flash" is "fly," "down," or "awake," i.e. knowing, not easily imposed upon.]

{432}[569] [Hamlet, act v. sc. 1, line 21.]

[570] ["Ken" is a house, s.c. a thieves' lodging-house; "spellken," a play-house; "high toby-spice" is robbery on horseback, as distinguished from "spice," i.e. footpad robbery; to "flash the muzzle" is to show off the face, to swagger openly; "blowing" or "blowen" is a doxy or trull; and "nutty" is, conjointly, amorous and fascinating.]

[kl] Poor Tom was once a knowing one in town. Not a mere kiddy, but a real one.--[MS. erased.]

[571] The advance of science and of language has rendered it unnecessary to translate the above good and true English, spoken in its original purity by the select mobility and their patrons. The following is a stanza of a song which was very popular at least in my early days:--

"On the high toby-spice flash the muzzle, In spite of each gallows old scout; If you at the spellken can't hustle, You'll be hobbled in making a clout. Then your blowing will wax gallows haughty, When she hears of your scaly mistake, She'll surely turn snitch for the forty-- That her Jack may be regular weight."

If there be any gemman so ignorant as to require a traduction, I refer him to my old friend and corporeal pastor and master, John Jackson, Esq., Professor of Pugilism; who, I trust, still retains the strength and symmetry of his model of a form, together with his good humour, and athletic as well as mental accomplishments.

[Gentleman Jackson was of good renown. "Servility," says Egan (Life in London, 1823, p. 217), "is not known to him. Flattery he detests. Integrity, impartiality, good-nature, and manliness, are the corner-stones of his understanding." Byron once said of him that "his manners were infinitely superior to those of the Fellows of the College whom I meet at the high table" (J.W. Clark, Cambridge, 1890, p. 140). (See, too, letter to John Jackson, September 18, 1808, Letters, 1898, i. 189, note 2; Hints from Horace, line 638, Poetical Works, 1898, i. 433, note 3.) As to the stanza quoted by Egan (Anecdotes of the Turf, 1827, p. 44), but not traduced or interpreted, "To be hobbled for making a clout" is to be taken into custody for stealing a handkerchief, to "turn snitch" is to inform, and the "forty" is the £40 offered for the detection of a capital crime, and shared by the police or Bow Street runners. Dangerous characters were let alone and tacitly encouraged to continue their career of crime, until the measure of their iniquity was full, and they "weighed forty." If Jack was clumsy enough to be detected in a trifling theft, his "blowen" would go over to the enemy, and betray him for the sake of the Government reward (see Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue, by Francis Grose, 1823, art. "Weigh forty").]

{433}[572] [Don Juan must have driven by Pleasant Row, and passed within hail of Paradise Row, on the way from Kennington to Westminster Bridge. (See Cary's New Pocket Plan of London, Westminster, and Southwark, 1819.) But, perhaps, there is more in the names of streets and places than meets the eye. Here, as elsewhere, there is, or there may be, "a paltering with us in a double sense."]

[km] Through rows called "Paradise," by way of showing Good Christians that to which they all are going.--[MS. erased.]

{434}[573] [Compare Childe Harold, Canto 1. stanza lxix. line 8, var. ii., Poetical Works, 1899, ii. 66, note 2.]

[kn]---- distilling into the re-kindling glass.--[MS.]

[574] [The streets of London were first regularly lighted with gas in 1812.]

{435}[575] [Thomas Pennant, in Some Account of London, 1793, p. 444, writes down the Mansion House (1739-1752) as "damned ... to everlasting fame."]

[576] [Fifty years ago "the lights of Piccadilly" were still regarded as one of the "sights" of London. Byron must often have looked at them from his house in Piccadilly Terrace.]

[577] [Joseph François Foulon, army commissioner, provoked the penalty of the "lantern" (i.e. an improvised gallows on the yard of a lamp-post at the corner of the Rue de la Vannerie) by his heartless sneer, "Eh bien! si cette canaille n'a pas de pain, elle mangera du foin." He was hanged, July 22, 1789. See The Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens, cap. xxii.; see, too, Carlyle's French Revolution, 1839, i. 253: "With wild yells, Sansculottism clutches him, in its hundred hands: he is whirled ... to the 'Lanterne,' ... pleading bitterly for life,--to the deaf winds. Only with the third rope (for two ropes broke, and the quavering voice still pleaded), can he be so much as got hanged! His Body is dragged through the streets; his Head goes aloft on a pike, the mouth filled with grass: amid sounds as of Tophet, from a grass-eating people."]

{436}[578] "Hells," gaming-houses. What their number may now be in this life, I know not. Before I was of age I knew them pretty accurately, both "gold" and "silver." I was once nearly called out by an acquaintance, because when he asked me where I thought that his soul would be found hereafter, I answered, "In Silver Hell."

[ko] At length the boys drew up before a door, From whence poured forth a tribe of well-clad waiters; (While on the pavement many a hungry w--re With which the moralest of cities caters For gentlemen whose passions may boil o'er, Stood as the unpacking gathered more spectators,) And Juan found himself in an extensive Apartment;--fashionable but expensive.--[MS.]

{437}[kp] 'Twas one of the delightfullest hotels.--[MS.]

[579] [Perhaps Grillion's Hotel (afterwards Grillion's Club) in Albemarle Street. In 1822 diplomats patronized more than one hotel in and near St. James's Street, but among the "Departures from Grillion's Hotel," recorded in the Morning Chronicle of September, 17, 1822, appositely enough, is that of H.E. Don Juan Garcia, del Rio.]

[kq] ---- of his loves and wars; And as romantic heads are pretty painters, And ladies like a little spice of Mars.--[MS. erased.]

{438}[kr] The false attempt at Truth----.--[MS.]

{439}[580] [Compare--

"Lo! Erin, thy Lord! Kiss his foot with thy blessing"----

The Irish Avatar, stanza 14, Poetical Works, 1901, iv. 558.]

[ks] Kiss hands--or feet--or what Man by and by Will kiss, not in sad metaphor--but earnest, Unless on Tyrants' sterns--we turn the sternest.--[MS.]

{440}[581] "Anent" was a Scotch phrase meaning "concerning"--"with regard to: "it has been made English by the Scotch novels; and, as the Frenchman said, "If it be not, ought to be English." [See, for instance, The Abbot, chap. xvii. 132.]

[kt] But "Damme's" simple--dashing--free and daring The purest blasphemy----.--[MS.]

[ku] About such general matters--but particular A poem's progress should be perpendicular.--[MS.]

{441}[582] [Macbeth, act iii. sc. 4, line 63.]

[kv] Blushed, too, but it was hidden by their rouge.--[MS. erased.]

[kw] The natural and the prepared ceruse.--[MS. erased.]

{442}[583] "Drapery Misses."--This term is probably anything now but a mystery. It was, however, almost so to me when I first returned from the East in 1811-1812. It means a pretty, a high-born, a fashionable young female, well instructed by her friends, and furnished by her milliner with a wardrobe upon credit, to be repaid, when married, by the husband. The riddle was first read to me by a young and pretty heiress, on my praising the "drapery" of the "untochered" but "pretty virginities" (like Mrs. Anne Page) of the then day, which has now been some years yesterday: she assured me that the thing was common in London; and as her own thousands, and blooming looks, and rich simplicity of array, put any suspicion in her own case out of the question, I confess I gave some credit to the allegation. If necessary, authorities might be cited; in which case I could quote both "drapery" and the wearers. Let us hope, however, that it is now obsolete.

[584] [Compare Hints from Horace, line 173, Poetical Works, 1898, i. 401, note 1.]

{443}[585] [In his so-called "Dedication" of Marino Faliero to Goethe, Byron makes fun of the "nineteen hundred and eighty-seven poets," whose names were to be found in A Biographical Dictionary of Living Authors, etc. (See Introduction to Marino Faliero, Poetical Works, 1901, iv. 340, 341, note 1.)]

{444}[kx] A paper potentate----.--[MS. erased.]

[586] [See "Introduction to Cain," Poetical Works, 1901, v. 204.]

[ky] With turnkey Southey for my Hudson Lowe.--[MS.]

[kz] Beneath the reverend Cambyses Croly.--[MS.]

[587] [The Reverend George Croly, D.D. (1780-1860), began his literary career as dramatic critic of the Times. "Croly," says H.C. Robinson (Diary, 1869, i. 412), "is a fierce-looking Irishman, very lively in conversation, and certainly has considerable talents as a writer; his eloquence, like his person, is rather energetic than eloquent" (hence the epithet "Cambyses," i.e. "King Cambyses' vein" in var. iii.). "He wrote tragedies, comedies, and novels; and, at last, settled down as a preacher, with the rank of doctor, but of what faculty I do not know" (ibid., footnote, H.C.R., 1847). He wrote, inter alia, Paris in 1815, a poem; Catiline, A Tragedy, 1822; and Salathiel, a novel, 1827. In lines 7, 8, Byron seems to refer to The Angel of the World, An Arabian Poem, published in 1820.]

[588] [I Henry IV., act ii. sc. 4, line 197.]

{445}[589] [Stanza lviii. was first published in 1837. The reference is to Henry Hart Milman (1791-1868). Byron was under the impression that Milman had influenced Murray against continuing the publication of Don Juan. Added to this surmise, was the mistaken belief that it was Milman who had written the article in the Quarterly, which "killed John Keats." Hence the virulence of the attack.

"Dull Dorus" is obscure, but compare Propertius, Eleg. III. vii. 44, where Callimachus is addressed as "Dore poeta." He is the "ox of verse," because he had been recently appointed to the Professorship of Poetry at Oxford. The "roaring Romans" are "The soldiery" who shout "All, All," in Croly's Catiline, act v. sc. 2.]

[la] Then there's my gentle Barry--who they say.--[MS.]

[590] [Jeffrey, in his review of A Sicilian Story, etc., Bryan Waller Procter (Barry Cornwall), 1787-1874 (Edinburgh Review, January, 1820, vol. 33, pp. 144-155), compares Diego de Montilla, a poem in ottava rima, with Don Juan, favourably and unfavourably: "There is no profligacy and no horror ... no mocking of virtue and honour, and no strong mixtures of buffoonery and grandeur." But it may fairly match with Byron and his Italian models "as to the better qualities of elegance, delicacy, and tenderness." See, too, Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, March, 1820, vol. vi. pp. 153, 647.]

[591] [See Preface to the Vision of Judgment, Poetical Works, 1901, iv. 484, note 3.]

[592] [Croker's article in the Quarterly (April, 1818 [pub. September], vol. xix. pp. 204-208) did not "kill John Keats." See letter to George and Georgiana Keats, October, 1818 (Letters, etc., 1895, p. 215). Byron adopts Shelley's belief that the Reviewer, "miserable man," "one of the meanest," had "wantonly defaced one of the noblest specimens of the workmanship of God." See Preface to Adonais, and stanzas xxxvi., xxxvii.]

{446}[lb] And weakly mind, to let that all celestial Particle.--[MS. erased.] or, 'T is strange the mind should let such phrases quell its Chief Impulse with a few, frail, paper pellets_.--[MS. erased.]

[593] "Divinæ particulam auræ" [Hor., Sat. ii. 2. 79]

[594] [For "the crowd of usurpers" who started up in the reign of Gallienus, and were dignified with the honoured appellation of "the thirty tyrants," see Gibbon's Decline and Fall, 1825, i. 164.]

[595] [King Lear, act iv. sc. 6, line 15.]

{447}[596] ["Illita Nesseo misi tibi texta veneno."

Ovid., Heroid. Epist. ix. 163.]

[597] [A "bower," in Moore's phrase, signifies a solitude à deux; e.g. "Here's the Bower she lov'd so much."

"Come to me, love, the twilight star Shall guide thee to my bower."

Moore.]

{448}[598] [Compare The Waltz, lines 220-229, et passim, Poetical Works, 1898, i. 501.]

{449}[599] Scotch for goblin.

[lc] Handsome but blasé----[MS.]

{450}[600] [The sentiment is reiterated in The Night Thoughts, and is the theme of Resignation, which was written and published when Young was more than eighty years old. ]

[ld] And fresher, since without a breath of air.--[MS.]

[le] Where are the thousand lovely innocents?--[MS.]

[601] ["I have ... written ... to express my willingness to accept the, or almost any mortgage, any thing to get out of the tremulous Funds of these oscillating times. There will be a war somewhere, no doubt--and whatever it may be, the Funds will be affected more or less; so pray get us out of them with all proper expedition. It has been the burthen of my song to you three years and better, and about as useful as better counsels."--Letter of Byron to Kinnaird, January 18, 1823, Letters, 1901, vi. 162, 163.]

{451}[602] [For William Pole Tylney Long Wellesley (1788-1857), see The Waltz, line 21, Poetical Works, 1898, i. 484, note 1. He was only on the way to being "diddled" in 1822, but the prophecy (suggested, no doubt, by the announcement of the sale of furniture, etc., at Wanstead House, in the Morning Chronicle, July 8, 1822) was ultimately fulfilled. Samuel Whitbread, born 1758, committed suicide July 6, 1815. Sir Samuel Romilly, born 1758, committed suicide November 2, 1818.]

[603] [According to Charles Greville, George the Third made two wills--the first in 1770, the second, which he never signed, in 1810. By the first will he left "all he had to the Queen for her life, Buckingham House to the Duke of Clarence," etc., and as Buckingham House had been twice sold, and the other legatees were dead, a question arose between the King and the Duke of York as to the right of inheritance of their father's personal property. George IV. conceived that it devolved upon him personally, and not on the Crown, and "consequently appropriated to himself the whole of the money and the jewels." It is possible that this difference between the brothers was noised abroad, and that old stories of the destruction of royal wills were revived to the new king's discredit. (See The Greville Memoirs, 1875, i. 64, 65.)]

[604] [See Moore's Fum and Hum, the Two Birds of Royalty, appended to his Fudge Family.]

[605] [Lady Caroline Lamb and Lady Frances Wedderburn Webster.]

{452}[lf] ---- their caps and curls at Dukes.--[MS.]

{453}[606] [The Congress at Verona, in 1822. See the Introduction to The Age of Bronze, Poetical Works, 1891, v. 537-540.]

[607] [2 Henry IV., act iv. sc. 3, line 117.]

[608] [Hor., Od. I. xi. line 8.]

[609] [Macbeth, act v. sc. 5, line 24.]

[610] [1 Henry IV., act ii. sc. 4, line 463.]

[611] [See the Secret Memoirs and Manners of several Persons of Quality, of Both Sexes, from the New Atalantis, 1709, a work in which the authoress, Mrs. Manley, satirizes the distinguished characters of her day. Warburton (Works of Pope, ed. 1751, i. 244) calls it "a famous book.... full of court and party scandal, and in a loose effeminacy of style and sentiment, which well suited the debauched taste of the better vulgar." Pope also alludes to it in the Rape of the Lock, iii. 165, 166--

"As long as Atalantis shall be read, Or the small pillow grace a lady's bed."

And Swift, in his ballad on "Corinna" (stanza 8)--

"Her common-place book all gallant is, Of scandal now a cornucopia, She pours it out in Atalantis, Or memoirs of the New Utopia."

Works, 1824, xii. 302.]

{454}[612] [Oct. 17, 1822.--MS.]

CANTO THE TWELFTH.

I.

Of all the barbarous middle ages, that Which is most barbarous is the middle age Of man! it is--I really scarce know what; But when we hover between fool and sage, And don't know justly what we would be at-- A period something like a printed page, Black letter upon foolscap, while our hair Grows grizzled, and we are not what we were;--

II.

Too old for Youth,--too young, at thirty-five, To herd with boys, or hoard with good threescore,-- I wonder people should be left alive; But since they are, that epoch is a bore: Love lingers still, although 't were late to wive: And as for other love, the illusion's o'er; And Money, that most pure imagination, Gleams only through the dawn of its creation.[613]

III.

O Gold! Why call we misers miserable?[614] Theirs is the pleasure that can never pall; Theirs is the best bower anchor, the chain cable Which holds fast other pleasures great and small. Ye who but see the saving man at table, And scorn his temperate board, as none at all, And wonder how the wealthy can be sparing, Know not what visions spring from each cheese-paring.

IV.

Love or lust makes Man sick, and wine much sicker; Ambition rends, and gaming gains a loss; But making money, slowly first, then quicker, And adding still a little through each cross (Which will come over things), beats Love or liquor, The gamester's counter, or the statesman's dross. O Gold! I still prefer thee unto paper, Which makes bank credit like a bank of vapour.

V.

Who hold the balance of the World? Who reign O'er congress, whether royalist or liberal? Who rouse the shirtless patriots of Spain?[615] (That make old Europe's journals "squeak and gibber"[616] all) Who keep the World, both old and new, in pain Or pleasure? Who make politics run glibber all? The shade of Buonaparte's noble daring?-- Jew Rothschild,[617] and his fellow-Christian, Baring.

VI.

Those, and the truly liberal Lafitte,[618] Are the true Lords of Europe. Every loan Is not a merely speculative hit, But seats a Nation or upsets a Throne. Republics also get involved a bit; Columbia's stock hath holders not unknown On 'Change; and even thy silver soil, Peru, Must get itself discounted by a Jew.

VII.

Why call the miser miserable? as I said before: the frugal life is his, Which in a saint or cynic ever was The theme of praise: a hermit would not miss Canonization for the self-same cause, And wherefore blame gaunt Wealth's austerities? Because, you 'll say, nought calls for such a trial;-- Then there's more merit in his self-denial.

VIII.

He is your only poet;--Passion, pure And sparkling on from heap to heap, displays, Possessed, the ore, of which mere hopes allure Nations athwart the deep: the golden rays Flash up in ingots from the mine obscure: On him the Diamond pours its brilliant blaze, While the mild Emerald's beam shades down the dies Of other stones, to soothe the miser's eyes.

IX.

The lands on either side are his; the ship From Ceylon, Inde, or far Cathay, unloads For him the fragrant produce of each trip; Beneath his cars of Ceres groan the roads, And the vine blushes like Aurora's lip; His very cellars might be Kings' abodes; While he, despising every sensual call, Commands--the intellectual Lord of all.

X.

Perhaps he hath great projects in his mind, To build a college, or to found a race, A hospital, a church,--and leave behind Some dome surmounted by his meagre face: Perhaps he fain would liberate Mankind Even with the very ore which makes them base; Perhaps he would be wealthiest of his nation, Or revel in the joys of calculation.

XI.

But whether all, or each, or none of these May be the hoarder's principle of action, The fool will call such mania a disease:-- What is his own? Go--look at each transaction, Wars, revels, loves--do these bring men more ease Than the mere plodding through each "vulgar fraction?" Or do they benefit Mankind? Lean Miser! Let spendthrifts' heirs inquire of yours--who's wiser?

XII.

How beauteous are rouleaus! how charming chests Containing ingots, bags of dollars, coins (Not of old victors, all whose heads and crests Weigh not the thin ore where their visage shines,[lg] But) of fine unclipped gold, where dully rests Some likeness, which the glittering cirque confines, Of modern, reigning, sterling, stupid stamp!-- Yes! ready money is Aladdin's lamp.[619]

XIII.

"Love rules the Camp, the Court, the Grove,--for Love Is Heaven, and Heaven is Love:"[620]--so sings the bard; Which it were rather difficult to prove (A thing with poetry in general hard). Perhaps there may be something in "the Grove," At least it rhymes to "Love:" but I'm prepared To doubt (no less than landlords of their rental) If "Courts" and "Camps" be quite so sentimental.

XIV.

But if Love don't, Cash does, and Cash alone: Cash rules the Grove, and fells it too besides; Without cash, camps were thin, and courts were none; Without cash, Malthus tells you--"take no brides."[621] So Cash rules Love the ruler, on his own High ground, as virgin Cynthia sways the tides: And as for "Heaven being Love," why not say honey Is wax? Heaven is not Love, 't is Matrimony.

XV.

Is not all Love prohibited whatever, Excepting Marriage? which is Love, no doubt, After a sort; but somehow people never With the same thought the two words have helped out. Love may exist with Marriage, and should ever, And Marriage also may exist without; But Love sans banns is both a sin and shame, And ought to go by quite another name.

XVI.

Now if the "Court," and "Camp," and "Grove," be not Recruited all with constant married men, Who never coveted their neighbour's lot, I say that line's a lapsus of the pen;-- Strange too in my buon camerado Scott, So celebrated for his morals, when My Jeffrey held him up as an example[622] To me;--of whom these morals are a sample.[lh]

XVII.

Well, if I don't succeed, I have succeeded, And that's enough; succeeded in my youth, The only time when much success is needed: And my success produced what I, in sooth, Cared most about; it need not now be pleaded-- Whate'er it was, 'twas mine; I've paid, in truth, Of late, the penalty of such success, But have not learned to wish it any less.

XVIII.

That suit in Chancery,[623]--which some persons plead In an appeal to the unborn, whom they, In the faith of their procreative creed, Baptize Posterity, or future clay,-- To me seems but a dubious kind of reed To lean on for support in any way; Since odds are that Posterity will know No more of them, than they of her, I trow.

XIX.[li]

Why, I'm Posterity--and so are you; And whom do we remember? Not a hundred. Were every memory written down all true, The tenth or twentieth name would be but blundered; Even Plutarch's Lives have but picked out a few, And 'gainst those few your annalists have thundered; And Mitford[624] in the nineteenth century Gives, with Greek truth, the good old Greek the lie.

XX.

Good people all, of every degree, Ye gentle readers and ungentle writers, In this twelfth Canto 't is my wish to be As serious as if I had for inditers Malthus and Wilberforce:--the last set free The Negroes, and is worth a million fighters; While Wellington has but enslaved the Whites, And Malthus[625] does the thing 'gainst which he writes.

XXI.

I'm serious--so are all men upon paper; And why should I not form my speculation, And hold up to the Sun my little taper?[626] Mankind just now seem wrapped in meditation On constitutions and steam-boats of vapour; While sages write against all procreation, Unless a man can calculate his means Of feeding brats the moment his wife weans.

XXII.

That's noble! That's romantic! For my part, I think that "Philo-genitiveness" is-- (Now here's a word quite after my own heart, Though there's a shorter a good deal than this, If that politeness set it not apart; But I'm resolved to say nought that's amiss)-- I say, methinks that "Philo-genitiveness"[627] Might meet from men a little more forgiveness.

XXIII.

And now to business.--O my gentle Juan! Thou art in London--in that pleasant place, Where every kind of mischief's daily brewing, Which can await warm Youth in its wild race. 'T is true, that thy career is not a new one; Thou art no novice in the headlong chase Of early life; but this is a new land, Which foreigners can never understand.

XXIV.

What with a small diversity of climate, Of hot or cold, mercurial or sedate, I could send forth my mandate like a Primate Upon the rest of Europe's social state; But thou art the most difficult to rhyme at, Great Britain, which the Muse may penetrate. All countries have their "Lions," but in thee There is but one superb menagerie.

XXV.

But I am sick of politics. Begin-- "Paulo Majora." Juan, undecided Amongst the paths of being "taken in," Above the ice had like a skater glided:[lj] When tired of play, he flirted without sin With some of those fair creatures who have prided Themselves on innocent tantalisation,[lk] And hate all vice except its reputation.

XXVI.

But these are few, and in the end they make Some devilish escapade or stir, which shows That even the purest people may mistake Their way through Virtue's primrose paths of snows; And then men stare, as if a new ass spake To Balaam, and from tongue to ear o'erflows Quicksilver small talk, ending (if you note it) With the kind World's Amen--"Who would have thought it?"

XXVII.

The little Leila, with her Orient eyes, And taciturn Asiatic disposition, (Which saw all Western things with small surprise, To the surprise of people of condition, Who think that novelties are butterflies To be pursued as food for inanition,) Her charming figure and romantic history Became a kind of fashionable mystery.

XXVIII.

The women much divided--as is usual Amongst the sex in little things or great-- Think not, fair creatures, that I mean to abuse you all, I have always liked you better than I state-- Since I've grown moral, still I must accuse you all Of being apt to talk at a great rate; And now there was a general sensation Amongst you, about Leila's education.

XXIX.

In one point only were you settled--and You had reason; 't was that a young child of grace, As beautiful as her own native land, And far away, the last bud of her race, Howe'er our friend Don Juan might command Himself for five, four, three, or two years' space, Would be much better taught beneath the eye Of peeresses whose follies had run dry.

XXX.

So first there was a generous emulation, And then there was a general competition, To undertake the orphan's education: As Juan was a person of condition, It had been an affront on this occasion To talk of a subscription or petition; But sixteen dowagers, ten unwed she sages Whose tale belongs to "Hallam's Middle Ages,"[628]

XXXI.

And one or two sad, separate wives, without A fruit to bloom upon their withering bough-- Begged to bring up the little girl, and "out"-- For that's the phrase that settles all things now, Meaning a virgin's first blush at a rout, And all her points as thorough-bred to show: And I assure you, that like virgin honey Tastes their first season (mostly if they have money).

XXXII.

How all the needy honourable misters, Each out-at-elbow peer, or desperate dandy, The watchful mothers, and the careful sisters, (Who, by the by, when clever, are more handy At making matches, where "'t is gold that glisters," Than their he relatives), like flies o'er candy Buzz round "the Fortune" with their busy battery, To turn her head with waltzing and with flattery!

XXXIII.

Each aunt, each cousin, hath her speculation; Nay, married dames will now and then discover Such pure disinterestedness of passion, I've known them court an heiress for their lover. "Tantoene!" Such the virtues of high station, Even in the hopeful Isle, whose outlet's "Dover!" While the poor rich wretch, object of these cares, Has cause to wish her sire had had male heirs.

XXXIV.

Some are soon bagged, and some reject three dozen: 'T is fine to see them scattering refusals And wild dismay o'er every angry cousin (Friends of the party), who begin accusals, Such as--"Unless Miss Blank meant to have chosen Poor Frederick, why did she accord perusals To his billets? Why waltz with him? Why, I pray, Look 'Yes' last night, and yet say 'No' to-day?

XXXV.

"Why?--Why?--Besides, Fred really was attached; 'T was not her fortune--he has enough without; The time will come she'll wish that she had snatched So good an opportunity, no doubt:-- But the old Marchioness some plan had hatched, As I'll tell Aurea at to-morrow's rout: And after all poor Frederick may do better-- Pray did you see her answer to his letter?"

XXXVI.

Smart uniforms and sparkling coronets Are spurned in turn, until her turn arrives, After male loss of time, and hearts, and bets Upon the sweepstakes for substantial wives; And when at last the pretty creature gets Some gentleman, who fights, or writes, or drives, It soothes the awkward squad of the rejected To find how very badly she selected.

XXXVII.

For sometimes they accept some long pursuer, Worn out with importunity; or fall (But here perhaps the instances are fewer) To the lot of him who scarce pursued at all. A hazy widower turned of forty 's sure[ll][629] (If 't is not vain examples to recall)[lm] To draw a high prize: now, howe'er he got her, I See nought more strange in this than t' other lottery.

XXXVIII.

I, for my part--(one "modern instance" more, "True,'t is a pity--pity 't is, 't is true")--[630] Was chosen from out an amatory score, Albeit my years were less discreet than few; But though I also had reformed before Those became one who soon were to be two, I'll not gainsay the generous public's voice, That the young lady made a monstrous choice.

XXXIX.

Oh, pardon my digression--or at least Peruse! 'T is always with a moral end That I dissert, like grace before a feast: For like an agéd aunt, or tiresome friend, A rigid guardian, or a zealous priest, My Muse by exhortation means to mend All people, at all times, and in most places, Which puts my Pegasus to these grave paces.

XL.

But now I'm going to be immoral; now I mean to show things really as they are, Not as they ought to be: for I avow, That till we see what's what in fact, we're far From much improvement with that virtuous plough Which skims the surface, leaving scarce a scar Upon the black loam long manured by Vice, Only to keep its corn at the old price.

XLI.

But first of little Leila we'll dispose,[ln] For like a day-dawn she was young and pure-- Or like the old comparison of snows,[631] (Which are more pure than pleasant, to be sure, Like many people everybody knows),-- Don Juan was delighted to secure A goodly guardian for his infant charge, Who might not profit much by being at large.

XLII.

Besides, he had found out he was no tutor (I wish that others would find out the same),[632] And rather wished in such things to stand neuter, For silly wards will bring their guardians blame: So when he saw each ancient dame a suitor To make his little wild Asiatic tame, Consulting "the Society for Vice Suppression," Lady Pinchbeck was his choice.

XLIII.

Olden she was--but had been very young; Virtuous she was--and had been, I believe; Although the World has such an evil tongue That--but my chaster ear will not receive An echo of a syllable that's wrong:[lo] In fact, there's nothing makes me so much grieve, As that abominable tittle-tattle, Which is the cud eschewed[633] by human cattle.

XLIV.

Moreover I've remarked (and I was once A slight observer in a modest way), And so may every one except a dunce, That ladies in their youth a little gay, Besides their knowledge of the World, and sense Of the sad consequence of going astray, Are wiser in their warnings 'gainst the woe Which the mere passionless can never know.

XLV.

While the harsh prude indemnifies her virtue By railing at the unknown and envied passion, Seeking far less to save you than to hurt you, Or, what's still worse, to put you out of fashion,-- The kinder veteran with calm words will court you, Entreating you to pause before you dash on; Expounding and illustrating the riddle Of epic Love's beginning--end--and middle.

XLVI.

Now whether it be thus, or that they are stricter, As better knowing why they should be so, I think you'll find from many a family picture, That daughters of such mothers as may know The World by experience rather than by lecture, Turn out much better for the Smithfield Show Of vestals brought into the marriage mart, Than those bred up by prudes without a heart.

XLVII.

I said that Lady Pinchbeck had been talked about-- As who has not, if female, young, and pretty? But now no more the ghost of Scandal stalked about; She merely was deemed amiable and witty, And several of her best bons-mots were hawked about: Then she was given to charity and pity, And passed (at least the latter years of life) For being a most exemplary wife.

XLVIII.

High in high circles, gentle in her own, She was the mild reprover of the young, Whenever--which means every day--they'd shown An awkward inclination to go wrong. The quantity of good she did 's unknown, Or at the least would lengthen out my song: In brief, the little orphan of the East Had raised an interest in her,--which increased.

XLIX.

Juan, too, was a sort of favourite with her, Because she thought him a good heart at bottom, A little spoiled, but not so altogether; Which was a wonder, if you think who got him, And how he had been tossed, he scarce knew whither: Though this might ruin others, it did not him, At least entirely--for he had seen too many Changes in Youth, to be surprised at any.

L.

And these vicissitudes tell best in youth; For when they happen at a riper age, People are apt to blame the Fates, forsooth, And wonder Providence is not more sage. Adversity is the first path to Truth: He who hath proved War--Storm--or Woman's rage, Whether his winters be eighteen or eighty, Hath won the experience which is deemed so weighty.

LI.

How far it profits is another matter.-- Our hero gladly saw his little charge Safe with a lady, whose last grown-up daughter Being long married, and thus set at large, Had left all the accomplishments she taught her To be transmitted, like the Lord Mayor's barge, To the next comer; or--as it will tell More Muse-like--like to Cytherea's shell.[lp]

LII.

I call such things transmission; for there is A floating balance of accomplishment, Which forms a pedigree from Miss to Miss, According as their minds or backs are bent. Some waltz--some draw--some fathom the abyss Of Metaphysics; others are content With Music; the most moderate shine as wits;-- While others have a genius turned for fits.

LIII.

But whether fits, or wits, or harpsichords-- Theology--fine arts--or finer stays, May be the baits for Gentlemen or Lords With regular descent, in these our days, The last year to the new transfers its hoards; New vestals claim men's eyes with the same praise Of "elegant" et cætera, in fresh batches-- All matchless creatures--and yet bent on matches.

LIV.

But now I will begin my poem. 'Tis Perhaps a little strange, if not quite new, That from the first of Cantos up to this I've not begun what we have to go through. These first twelve books are merely flourishes, Preludios, trying just a string or two Upon my lyre, or making the pegs sure; And when so, you shall have the overture.

LV.

My Muses do not care a pinch of rosin About what's called success, or not succeeding: Such thoughts are quite below the strain they have chosen; 'T is a "great moral lesson"[634] they are reading. I thought, at setting off, about two dozen Cantos would do; but at Apollo's pleading, If that my Pegasus should not be foundered, I think to canter gently through a hundred.

LVI.

Don Juan saw that Microcosm on stilts, Yclept the Great World; for it is the least, Although the highest: but as swords have hilts By which their power of mischief is increased, When Man in battle or in quarrel tilts, Thus the low world, north, south, or west, or east, Must still obey the high[635]--which is their handle, Their Moon, their Sun, their gas, their farthing candle.

LVII.

He had many friends who had many wives, and was Well looked upon by both, to that extent Of friendship which you may accept or pass, It does nor good nor harm; being merely meant To keep the wheels going of the higher class, And draw them nightly when a ticket's sent; And what with masquerades, and fêtes, and balls, For the first season such a life scarce palls.

LVIII.

A young unmarried man, with a good name And fortune, has an awkward part to play; For good society is but a game, "The royal game of Goose,"[636] as I may say, Where everybody has some separate aim, An end to answer, or a plan to lay-- The single ladies wishing to be double, The married ones to save the virgins trouble.

LIX.

I don't mean this as general, but particular Examples may be found of such pursuits: Though several also keep their perpendicular Like poplars, with good principles for roots; Yet many have a method more reticular-- "Fishers for men," like Sirens with soft lutes: For talk six times with the same single lady, And you may get the wedding-dresses ready.

LX.

Perhaps you'll have a letter from the mother, To say her daughter's feelings are trepanned; Perhaps you'll have a visit from the brother, All strut, and stays, and whiskers, to demand What "your intentions are?"--One way or other It seems the virgin's heart expects your hand: And between pity for her case and yours, You'll add to Matrimony's list of cures.

LXI.

I've known a dozen weddings made even thus, And some of them high names: I have also known Young men who--though they hated to discuss Pretensions which they never dreamed to have shown-- Yet neither frightened by a female fuss, Nor by mustachios moved, were let alone, And lived, as did the broken-hearted fair, In happier plight than if they formed a pair.

LXII.

There's also nightly, to the uninitiated, A peril--not indeed like Love or Marriage, But not the less for this to be depreciated: It is--I meant and mean not to disparage The show of Virtue even in the vitiated-- It adds an outward grace unto their carriage-- But to denounce the amphibious sort of harlot, Couleur de rose, who's neither white nor scarlet.

LXIII.

Such is your cold coquette, who can't say "No," And won't say "Yes," and keeps you on and off-ing On a lee-shore, till it begins to blow-- Then sees your heart wrecked, with an inward scoffing. This works a world of sentimental woe,[lq] And sends new Werters yearly to their coffin; But yet is merely innocent flirtation, Not quite adultery, but adulteration.

LXIV.

"Ye gods, I grow a talker!"[637] Let us prate. The next of perils, though I place it _stern_est, Is when, without regard to Church or State, A wife makes or takes love in upright earnest. Abroad, such things decide few women's fate-- (Such, early Traveller! is the truth thou learnest)-- But in old England, when a young bride errs, Poor thing! Eve's was a trifling case to hers.

LXV.

For 't is a low, newspaper, humdrum, lawsuit Country, where a young couple of the same ages[lr] Can't form a friendship, but the world o'erawes it. Then there's the vulgar trick of those d----d damages! A verdict--grievous foe to those who cause it!-- Forms a sad climax to romantic homages; Besides those soothing speeches of the pleaders, And evidences which regale all readers.

LXVI.

But they who blunder thus are raw beginners; A little genial sprinkling of hypocrisy Has saved the fame of thousand splendid sinners, The loveliest oligarchs of our Gynocracy;[638] You may see such at all the balls and dinners, Among the proudest of our aristocracy, So gentle, charming, charitable, chaste-- And all by having tact as well as taste.

LXVII.

Juan, who did not stand in the predicament Of a mere novice, had one safeguard more; For he was sick--no, 't was not the word sick I meant-- But he had seen so much good love before, That he was not in heart so very weak;--I meant But thus much, and no sneer against the shore Of white cliffs, white necks, blue eyes, bluer stockings-- Tithes, taxes, duns--and doors with double knockings.[ls]

LXVIII.

But coming young from lands and scenes romantic, Where lives, not lawsuits, must be risked for Passion And Passion's self must have a spice of frantic, Into a country where 't is half a fashion, Seemed to him half commercial, half pedantic, Howe'er he might esteem this moral nation: Besides (alas! his taste--forgive and pity!) At first he did not think the women pretty.

LXIX.

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

LXX.

Though travelled, I have never had the luck to Trace up those shuffling negroes, Nile or Niger, To that impracticable place Timbuctoo, Where Geography finds no one to oblige her With such a chart as may be safely stuck to-- For Europe ploughs in Afric like "bos piger:"[639] But if I had been at Timbuctoo, there No doubt I should be told that black is fair.[lt][640]

LXXI.

It is. I will not swear that black is white, But I suspect in fact that white is black, And the whole matter rests upon eye-sight:-- Ask a blind man, the best judge. You'll attack Perhaps this new position--but I'm right; Or if I'm wrong, I'll not be ta'en aback:-- He hath no morn nor night, but all is dark Within--and what seest thou? A dubious spark!

LXXII.

But I'm relapsing into Metaphysics, That labyrinth, whose clue is of the same Construction as your cures for hectic phthisics, Those bright moths fluttering round a dying flame: And this reflection brings me to plain Physics, And to the beauties of a foreign dame, Compared with those of our pure pearls of price, Those polar summers, all Sun, and some ice.[lu][641]

LXXIII.

Or say they are like virtuous mermaids, whose Beginnings are fair faces, ends mere fishes;-- Not that there's not a quantity of those Who have a due respect for their own wishes. Like Russians rushing from hot baths to snows[642] Are they, at bottom virtuous even when vicious: They warm into a scrape, but keep of course, As a reserve, a plunge into remorse.

LXXIV.

But this has nought to do with their outsides. I said that Juan did not think them pretty At the first blush; for a fair Briton hides Half her attractions--probably from pity-- And rather calmly into the heart glides, Than storms it as a foe would take a city; But once there (if you doubt this, prithee try)[lv] She keeps it for you like a true ally.

LXXV.

She cannot step as does an Arab barb,[643] Or Andalusian girl from mass returning, Nor wear as gracefully as Gauls her garb, Nor in her eye Ausonia's glance is burning; Her voice, though sweet, is not so fit to warb- le those bravuras (which I still am learning To like, though I have been seven years in Italy, And have, or had, an ear that served me prettily);--