They separated at an early hour; That is, ere midnight—which is London's noon: CANTO XIV. I. Ir from great Nature's or our own abyss Much as old Saturn ate his progeny ; But system doth reverse the Titan's breakfast, You bind yourself, and call some mode the best one. III. For me, I know nought; nothing I deny, Admit, reject, contemn; and what know you, When nothing shall be either old or new. IV. A sleep without dreams, after a rough day Of paying debts, which creditors regret) V. 'Tis round him, near him, here, there, every where VI. 'Tis true, you don't-but, pale and struck with terror, To the unknown; a secret preposession, [not, And lower the price of rouge-at least some winters. And that's the reason why you do-or do not. VII. But what's this to the purpose? you will say. Gent. reader, nothing; a mere speculation, For which my sole excuse is-'tis my way. Sometimes with and sometimes without occasion, I write what's uppermost without delay; This narrative is not meant for narration, But a mere airy and fantastic basis, To build up common things with common-places. VIII. You know, or don't know, that great Bacon saith, "Fling up a straw, 'twill show the way the wind blows; " And such a straw, borne on by human breath, A shadow which the onward soul behind throws, The world is all before me-or behind; For I have seen a portion of that same, And quite enough for me to keep in mind ; Of passions, too, I've proved enough to blame, To the great pleasure of our friends, mankind, Who like to mix some slight alloy with fame : For I was rather famous in my time, Until I fairly knock'd it up with rhyme; I have brought this world about my ears, and eke But "why then publish?"-There are no rewards On what I've seen or ponder'd sad or cheery; XII. When we have made our love, and gamed our Dress'd, voted, shone, and, may be, something With dandies dined; heard senators declaiming; Seen beauties brought to market by the score; Sad rakes to sadder husbands chastely taming; There's little left but to be bored or bore. Witness those "ci-devant jeunes hommes" who stem The stream, nor leave the world which leaveth them. XIX. 'Tis said-indeed a general complaint That no one has succeeded in describing Some say, that authors only snatch, by bribing The porter, some slight scandals strange and quaint, To furnish matter for their moral gibing; choosing-And that their books have but one style in commonMy lady's prattle, filter'd through her woman. I think that were I certain of success, XX. But this can't well be true, just now; for writers Of, what they deem themselves most conse. The real portrait of the highest tribe ? [quential 'Tis that, in fact, there's little to describe. "Haud ignara loquor:" these are nugæ, “quarum And when upon a silent, sullen day, Pars parva fui," but still art and part. A battle, wreck, or history of the heart, With a Sirocco, for example, blowing,When even the sea looks dim with all its spray, And sulkily the river's ripple's flowing, Than these things; and besides, I wish to spare 'em And the sky shows that very ancient gray, For reasons which I choose to keep apart. "Vetabo Cereris sacrum qui vulgarit," The sober sad antithesis to glowing,'Tis pleasant, if then any thing is pleasant, Which means, that vulgar people must not share it. To catch a glimpse even of a pretty peasant. XXXV. Such 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, Which might defy a crochet-critic's rigor. 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. To 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, 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! 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 nother 2 XLIX. But this is not my maxim: had it been, [not: Of stubborn shell, which waves and weather wear 'Tis better on the whole to have felt and seen That which humanity may bear, or bear not: "Twill teach discernment to the sensitive, And not to pour their ocean in a sieve. L. Of all the horrid, hideous notes of wo, Sadder than owl-songs, or the midnight blast, Is that portentious phrase, "I told you so," Utter'd by friends, those prophets of the past, Who, 'stead of saying what you now should do, Own they foresaw that you would fall at last, And solace your slight lapse 'gainst "bonos mores"" With a long memorandum of old stories. LI. The Lady Adeline's serene severity Was not confined to feeling for her friend, Whose fame she rather doubted with posterity, Unless her habits should begin to mend. But Juan also shared in her austerity, But mix'd with pity, pure as e'er was penn'd: These forty days' advantage of her years- And noble births, nor dread the enumerationGave her a right to have maternal fears For a young gentleman's fit education, Though she was far from that leap-year, whose leap In female dates, strikes time all of a heap. LIII. This may be fix'd somewhere before thirty- Advance beyond, while they could pass for new. LIV. But Adeline was far from that ripe age, My Muse despises reference, as you have guess'd By this time: but strike six from seven-and-twenty, And you will find her sum of years in plenty. LV. At sixteen she came out; presented, vaunted, LVI. Since then she had sparkled through three glowing LVII. Fondly the wheeling fire-flies flew around her, But, whatsoe'er she wish'd, she acted right; I hate a motive like a lingering bottle, Which with the landlord makes too long a stand, Leaving all claretless the unmoisten'd throttle, Especially with politics on hand; I hate it, as I hate a drove of cattle, Who whirl the dust as Simooms whirl the sand; I hate it, as I hate an argument, A laureate's ode, or servile peer's "content." LIX. 'Tis sad to hack into the roots of things, They are so much intertwisted with the earth, So that the branch a goodly verdure mugs, I reck not if an acorn gave it birth. To trace all actions to their secret springs Would make indeed some melancholy mirth: But this is not at present my concern, And I refer you to wise Oxenstiern.3 LX. With the kind view of saving an eclât, That Juan was unlikely to resist- In England ranks quite on a different list From those of other lands, unbless'd with juries, Whose verdict for such sin a certain cure is) LXI. The Lady Adeline resolved to take Such measures as she thought might best impede The farther progress of this sad mistake. She thought with some simplicity indeed; But innocence is bold even at the stake, And simple in the world, and doth not need Nor use those palisades by dames erected, Whose virtue lies in never being detected. LXII. It was not that she fear'd the very worst: His grace was an enduring, married man, And was not likely all at once to burst Into a scene, and swell the client's clan Of Doctors' Commons; but she dreaded first The magic of her grace's talisman, And next a quarrel (as he seem'd to fret) With Lord Augustus Fitz-Plantagenet. |