XXXV. Buch were his trophies ;-not of spear and shield, Who, after a long chase o'er hills, dales, bushes, And what not, though he rode beyond all price, Ask'd, next day, "if men ever hunted twice?" XXXVI. He also had a quality uncommon To early risers after a long chase, Who wake in winter ere the the cock can summon December's drowsy day to his dull race, A quality agreeable to woman, When her soft liquid words run on apace, Who likes a listener, whether saint or sinner,He did not fall asleep just after dinner. XXXVII. But, light and airy, stood on the alert, XXXVIII. And then he danced;-all foreigners excel A thing in footing indispensable: He danced without theatrical pretence, Not like a ballet-master in the van Of his drill'd nymphs, but like a gentleman. XXXIX. Chaste were his steps, each kept within due bound, And elegance was sprinkled o'er his figure; Like swift Camilla, he scarce skimm'd the ground, And rather held in than put forth his vigor; And then he had an ear for music's sound, Which might defy a crochet-critic's rigor. Such classic pas-sans flaws-set off our hero, He glanced like a personified bolero; XL. Or, like a flying hour before Aurora, In Guido's famous fresco, which alone Is worth a tour to Rome, although no more a Remnant were there of the old world's sole throne. The "tout ensemble" of his movements wore a Grace of the soft ideal, seldom shown, And ne'er to be described; for, to the dolor Of bards and prosers, words are void of color. XLI. No marvel then he was a favorite; A full-grown Cupid, very much admired; The chaste, and those who are not so much inspir'd. The Duchess of Fitz-Fulke, who loved "tracasserie," Began to treat him with some small "agacerie." XLII. She was a fine and somewhat full-blown blonde, XLIII. This noble personage began to look A little black upon this new flirtation; But such small licenses must lovers brook, Mere freedoms of the female corporation. Wo to the man who ventures a rebuke! 'Twill but precipitate a situation Extremely disagreeable, but common To calculators, when they count on woman. XLIV. The circle smiled, then whisper'd, and then sneer'd XLV. But, what is odd, none ever named the duke, But small concern, about the when, or where, Her gayeties, none had a right to stare: Theirs was that best of unions, past all doubt, Which never meets, and therefore can't fall out. XLVI. But, oh that I should ever pen so sad a line! Began to think the Duchess' conduct free; XLVII. There's nought in this bad world like sympathy: To hunt our errors up with a good grace? Consoling us with-"Would you had thought twice Ah! if you had but follow'd my advice!" XLVIII. Oh, Job! you had two friends: one's quite enough As they will do like leaves at the first breeze: When your affairs come round, one way or t'other Go to the coffee-house, and take another 2 LXIII. DON JUAN. Her grace, too, pass'd for being an intrigante The sort of thing to turn a young man's head, Than wear a heart a woman loves to rend. And first, in the overflowing of her heart, And bade him counsel Juan. With a smile, LXX. He was a cold, good, honorable man, Proud of his birth, and proud of every thing; A figure fit to walk before a king; On birthdays, glorious with a star and string; And such I mean to make him when 1 reign. LXXI. But there was something wanting on the whole- A handsome man, that human miracle; LXXII. Still there was something wanting, as I've said- LXXIII. There is an awkward thing which much perplexes, LXXIV. A something all-sufficient for the heart Is that for which the sex are always seeking; But how to fill up that same vacant partThere lies the rub-and this they are but weak in. [ing; Frail mariners afloat without a chart, They run before the wind through high seas breakAnd when they have made the shore, through every 'Tis odd, or odds, it may turn out a rock. [shock, LXXVII. "Beatus ille procul!" from "negotiis,” Is much more to the purpose of his song; Adam exchanged his paradise for ploughing; And hence high life is oft a dreary void, A rack of pleasures, where we must invent A something wherewithal to be annoy'd. Bards may sing what they please about content; Contented, when translated, means but cloy'd; And hence arise the woes of sentiment, Blue-devils, and blue-stockings, and romances Reduced to practice, and perform'd like dances. LXXX. I do declare, upon an affidavit, Romances I ne'er read like those I have seen; Nor, if unto the world I ever gave it, Would some believe that such a tale had been: But such intent I never had, nor have it ; Some truths are better kept behind a screen, LXXXI. "An oyster may be cross'd in love,"-and why? LXXXII. Oh, Wilberforce! thou man of black renown, But there's another little thing, I own, Which you should perpetrate some summer's day, And set the other half of earth to rights: LXXXIV. Shut up the world at large; let Bedlam out, Were there a jot of sense among mankind; Our gentle Adeline had one defect Her heart was vacant, though a splendid mansion; Her conduct had been perfectly correct, As she had seen nought claiming its expansion A wavering spirit may be easier wreck'd, Because 'tis frailer, doubtless, than a stanch one, But when the latter works its own undoing, Its inner crash is like an earthquake's ruin. LXXXVI. She loved her lord, or thought so; but that love Our feelings 'gainst the nature of the soil. LXXXVII. There was no great disparity of years, Though much in temper; but they never clash'd: They moved like stars united in their spheres, Or like the Rhone by Leman's waters wash'd, Where mingled and yet separate appears The river from the lake, all bluely dash'd Through the serene and placid glassy deep, Which fain would lull its river-child to sleep. LXXXVIII. Now, when she once had ta'en an interest LXXXIX. But when it was, she had that lurking demon Whene'er their triumph pales, or star is tamed:- You have freed the blacks-now pray shut up the To fix the due bounds of this dangerous quality. whites. |