Don Juan: CANTO THE FOURTEENTH
I
- If from great nature's or our own abyss
- Of thought we could but snatch a certainty,
- Perhaps mankind might find the path they miss --
- But then 't would spoil much good philosophy.
- One system eats another up, and this
- Much as old Saturn ate his progeny;
- For when his pious consort gave him stones
- In lieu of sons, of these he made no bones.
II
- But System doth reverse the Titan's breakfast,
- And eats her parents, albeit the digestion
- Is difficult. Pray tell me, can you make fast,
- After due search, your faith to any question?
- Look back o'er ages, ere unto the stake fast
- You bind yourself, and call some mode the best one.
- Nothing more true than not to trust your senses;
- And yet what are your other evidences?
III
- For me, I know nought; nothing I deny,
- Admit, reject, contemn; and what know you,
- Except perhaps that you were born to die?
- And both may after all turn out untrue.
- An age may come, Font of Eternity,
- When nothing shall be either old or new.
- Death, so call'd, is a thing which makes men weep,
- And yet a third of life is pass'd in sleep.
IV
- A sleep without dreams, after a rough day
- Of toil, is what we covet most; and yet
- How clay shrinks back from more quiescent clay!
- The very Suicide that pays his debt
- At once without instalments (an old way
- Of paying debts, which creditors regret)
- Lets out impatiently his rushing breath,
- Less from disgust of life than dread of death.
V
- 'T is round him, near him, here, there, every where;
- And there's a courage which grows out of fear,
- Perhaps of all most desperate, which will dare
- The worst to know it -- when the mountains rear
- Their peaks beneath your human foot, and there
- You look down o'er the precipice, and drear
- The gulf of rock yawns -- you can't gaze a minute
- Without an awful wish to plunge within it.
VI
- 'T is true, you don't -- but, pale and struck with terror,
- Retire: but look into your past impression!
- And you will find, though shuddering at the mirror
- Of your own thoughts, in all their self-confession,
- The lurking bias, be it truth or error,
- To the unknown; a secret prepossession,
- To plunge with all your fear -- but where? You know not,
- And that's the reason why you'd -- 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 -- 't is 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, 't will show the way the wind blows;"
- And such a straw, borne on by human breath,
- Is poesy, according as the mind glows;
- A paper kite which flies 'twixt life and death,
- A shadow which the onward soul behind throws:
- And mine's a bubble, not blown up for praise,
- But just to play with, as an infant plays.
IX
- 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 have 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.
X
- I have brought this world about my ears, and eke
- The other; that's to say, the clergy, who
- Upon my head have bid their thunders break
- In pious libels by no means a few.
- And yet I can't help scribbling once a week,
- Tiring old readers, nor discovering new.
- In youth I wrote because my mind was full,
- And now because I feel it growing dull.
XI
- But "why then publish?" -- There are no rewards
- Of fame or profit when the world grows weary.
- I ask in turn -- Why do you play at cards?
- Why drink? Why read -- To make some hour less dreary.
- It occupies me to turn back regards
- On what I've seen or ponder'd, sad or cheery;
- And what I write I cast upon the stream,
- To swim or sink -- I have had at least my dream.
XII
- I think that were I certain of success,
- I hardly could compose another line:
- So long I've battled either more or less,
- That no defeat can drive me from the Nine.
- This feeling 't is not easy to express,
- And yet 't is not affected, I opine.
- In play, there are two pleasures for your choosing --
- The one is winning, and the other losing.
XIII
- Besides, my Muse by no means deals in fiction:
- She gathers a repertory of facts,
- Of course with some reserve and slight restriction,
- But mostly sings of human things and acts --
- And that's one cause she meets with contradiction;
- For too much truth, at first sight, ne'er attracts;
- And were her object only what's call'd glory,
- With more ease too she'd tell a different story.
XIV
- Love, war, a tempest -- surely there's variety;
- Also a seasoning slight of lucubration;
- A bird's-eye view, too, of that wild, Society;
- A slight glance thrown on men of every station.
- If you have nought else, here's at least satiety
- Both in performance and in preparation;
- And though these lines should only line portmanteaus,
- Trade will be all the better for these Cantos.
XV
- The portion of this world which I at present
- Have taken up to fill the following sermon,
- Is one of which there's no description recent.
- The reason why is easy to determine:
- Although it seems both prominent and pleasant,
- There is a sameness in its gems and ermine,
- A dull and family likeness through all ages,
- Of no great promise for poetic pages.
XVI
- With much to excite, there's little to exalt;
- Nothing that speaks to all men and all times;
- A sort of varnish over every fault;
- A kind of common-place, even in their crimes;
- Factitious passions, wit without much salt,
- A want of that true nature which sublimes
- Whate'er it shows with truth; a smooth monotony
- Of character, in those at least who have got any.
XVII
- Sometimes, indeed, like soldiers off parade,
- They break their ranks and gladly leave the drill;
- But then the roll-call draws them back afraid,
- And they must be or seem what they were: still
- Doubtless it is a brilliant masquerade;
- But when of the first sight you have had your fill,
- It palls -- at least it did so upon me,
- This paradise of pleasure and ennui.
XVIII
- When we have made our love, and gamed our gaming,
- Drest, voted, shone, and, may be, something more;
- 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
- 'T is said -- indeed a general complaint --
- That no one has succeeded in describing
- The monde, exactly as they ought to paint:
- Some say, that authors only snatch, by bribing
- The porter, some slight scandals strange and quaint,
- To furnish matter for their moral gibing;
- And that their books have but one style in common --
- My lady's prattle, filter'd through her woman.
XX
- But this can't well be true, just now; for writers
- Are grown of the beau monde a part potential:
- I've seen them balance even the scale with fighters,
- Especially when young, for that's essential.
- Why do their sketches fail them as inditers
- Of what they deem themselves most consequential,
- The real portrait of the highest tribe?
- 'T is that, in fact, there's little to describe.
XXI
- "Haud ignara loquor;" these are Nugae, "quarum
- Pars
parva fui," but still art and part.
- Now I could much more easily sketch a harem,
- A battle, wreck, or history of the heart,
- Than these things; and besides, I wish to spare 'em,
- For reasons which I choose to keep apart.
- "Vetabo Cereris sacrum qui vulgarit --"
- Which means that vulgar people must not share it.
XXII
- And therefore what I throw off is ideal --
- Lower'd, leaven'd, like a history of freemasons;
- Which bears the same relation to the real,
- As Captain Parry's voyage may do to Jason's.
- The grand arcanum's not for men to see all;
- My music has some mystic diapasons;
- And there is much which could not be appreciated
- In any manner by the uninitiated.
XXIII
- Alas! worlds fall -- and woman, since she fell'd
- The world (as, since that history less polite
- Than true, hath been a creed so strictly held)
- Has not yet given up the practice quite.
- Poor thing of usages! coerced, compell'd,
- Victim when wrong, and martyr oft when right,
- Condemn'd to child-bed, as men for their sins
- Have shaving too entail'd upon their chins, --
XXIV
- A daily plague, which in the aggregate
- May average on the whole with parturition.
- But as to women, who can penetrate
- The real sufferings of their she condition?
- Man's very sympathy with their estate
- Has much of selfishness, and more suspicion.
- Their love, their virtue, beauty, education,
- But form good housekeepers, to breed a nation.
XXV
- All this were very well, and can't be better;
- But even this is difficult, Heaven knows,
- So many troubles from her birth beset her,
- Such small distinction between friends and foes,
- The gilding wears so soon from off her fetter,
- That -- but ask any woman if she'd choose
- (Take her at thirty, that is) to have been
- Female or male? a schoolboy or a queen?
XXVI
- "Petticoat influence" is a great reproach,
- Which even those who obey would fain be thought
- To fly from, as from hungry pikes a roach;
- But since beneath it upon earth we are brought,
- By various joltings of life's hackney coach,
- I for one venerate a petticoat --
- A garment of a mystical sublimity,
- No matter whether russet, silk, or dimity.
XXVII
- Much I respect, and much I have adored,
- In my young days, that chaste and goodly veil,
- Which holds a treasure, like a miser's hoard,
- And more attracts by all it doth conceal --
- A golden scabbard on a Damasque sword,
- A loving letter with a mystic seal,
- A cure for grief -- for what can ever rankle
- Before a petticoat and peeping ankle?
XXVIII
- And when upon a silent, sullen day,
- With a sirocco, for example, blowing,
- When even the sea looks dim with all its spray,
- And sulkily the river's ripple's flowing,
- And the sky shows that very ancient gray,
- The sober, sad antithesis to glowing, --
- 'T is pleasant, if then any thing is pleasant,
- To catch a glimpse even of a pretty peasant.
XXIX
- We left our heroes and our heroines
- In that fair clime which don't depend on climate,
- Quite independent of the Zodiac's signs,
- Though certainly more difficult to rhyme at,
- Because the sun, and stars, and aught that shines,
- Mountains, and all we can be most sublime at,
- Are there oft dull and dreary as a dun --
- Whether a sky's or tradesman's is all one.
XXX
- An in-door life is less poetical;
- And out of door hath showers, and mists, and sleet,
- With which I could not brew a pastoral.
- But be it as it may, a bard must meet
- All difficulties, whether great or small,
- To spoil his undertaking or complete,
- And work away like spirit upon matter,
- Embarrass'd somewhat both with fire and water.
XXXI
- Juan -- in this respect, at least, like saints --
- Was all things unto people of all sorts,
- And lived contentedly, without complaints,
- In camps, in ships, in cottages, or courts --
- Born with that happy soul which seldom faints,
- And mingling modestly in toils or sports.
- He likewise could be most things to all women,
- Without the coxcombry of certain she men.
XXXII
- A fox-hunt to a foreigner is strange;
- 'T is also subject to the double danger
- Of tumbling first, and having in exchange
- Some pleasant jesting at the awkward stranger:
- But Juan had been early taught to range
- The wilds, as doth an Arab turn'd avenger,
- So that his horse, or charger, hunter, hack,
- Knew that he had a rider on his back.
XXXIII
- And now in this new field, with some applause,
- He clear'd hedge, ditch, and double post, and rail,
- And never craned, and made but few "faux pas," [*]
- And only fretted when the scent 'gan fail.
- He broke, 't is true, some statutes of the laws
- Of hunting -- for the sagest youth is frail;
- Rode o'er the hounds, it may be, now and then,
- And once o'er several country gentlemen.
XXXIV
- But on the whole, to general admiration
- He acquitted both himself and horse: the squires
- Marvell'd at merit of another nation;
- The boors cried "Dang it? who'd have thought it?" -- Sires,
- The Nestors of the sporting generation,
- Swore praises, and recall'd their former fires;
- The huntsman's self relented to a grin,
- And rated him almost a whipper-in.
XXXV
- Such were his trophies -- not of spear and shield,
- But leaps, and bursts, and sometimes foxes' brushes;
- Yet I must own -- although in this I yield
- To patriot sympathy a Briton's blushes, --
- He thought at heart like courtly Chesterfield,
- 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 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,
- And shone in the best part of dialogue,
- By humouring always what they might assert,
- And listening to the topics most in vogue;
- Now grave, now gay, but never dull or pert;
- And smiling but in secret -- cunning rogue!
- He ne'er presumed to make an error clearer; --
- In short, there never was a better hearer.
XXXVIII
- And then he danced -- all foreigners excel
- The serious Angles in the eloquence
- Of pantomime -- he danced, I say, right well,
- With emphasis, and also with good sense --
- 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 vigour;
- And then he had an ear for music's sound,
- Which might defy a crotchet critic's rigour.
- Such classic pas -- sans flaw -- 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 dolour
- Of bards and prosers, words are void of colour.
XLI
- No marvel then he was a favourite;
- A full-grown Cupid, very much admired;
- A little spoilt, but by no means so quite;
- At least he kept his vanity retired.
- Such was his tact, he could alike delight
- The chaste, and those who are not so much inspired.
- 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,
- Desirable, distinguish'd, celebrated
- For several winters in the grand, grand monde.
- I'd rather not say what might be related
- Of her exploits, for this were ticklish ground;
- Besides there might be falsehood in what's stated:
- Her late performance had been a dead set
- At Lord Augustus Fitz-Plantagenet.
XLIII
- This noble personage began to look
- A little black upon this new flirtation;
- But such small licences must lovers brook,
- Mere freedoms of the female corporation.
- Woe to the man who ventures a rebuke!
- 'T will 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;
- The Misses bridled, and the matrons frown'd;
- Some hoped things might not turn out as they fear'd;
- Some would not deem such women could be found;
- Some ne'er believed one half of what they heard;
- Some look'd perplex'd, and others look'd profound;
- And several pitied with sincere regret
- Poor Lord Augustus Fitz-Plantagenet.
XLV
- But what is odd, none ever named the duke,
- Who, one might think, was something in the affair;
- True, he was absent, and, 't was rumour'd, took
- But small concern about the when, or where,
- Or what his consort did: if he could brook
- Her gaieties, 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!
- Fired with an abstract love of virtue, she,
- My Dian of the Ephesians, Lady Adeline,
- Began to think the duchess' conduct free;
- Regretting much that she had chosen so bad a line,
- And waxing chiller in her courtesy,
- Look'd grave and pale to see her friend's fragility,
- For which most friends reserve their sensibility.
XLVII
- There's nought in this bad world like sympathy:
- 'T is so becoming to the soul and face,
- Sets to soft music the harmonious sigh,
- And robes sweet friendship in a Brussels lace.
- Without a friend, what were humanity,
- 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
- O Job! you had two friends: one's quite enough,
- Especially when we are ill at ease;
- They are but bad pilots when the weather's rough,
- Doctors less famous for their cures than fees.
- Let no man grumble when his friends fall off,
- 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. [*]
XLIX
- But this is not my maxim: had it been,
- Some heart-aches had been spared me: yet I care not --
- I would not be a tortoise in his screen
- Of stubborn shell, which waves and weather wear not.
- 'T is better on the whole to have felt and seen
- That which humanity may bear, or bear not:
- 'T will teach discernment to the sensitive,
- And not to pour their ocean in a sieve.
L
- Of all the horrid, hideous notes of woe,
- Sadder than owl-songs or the midnight blast,
- Is that portentous 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:
- His inexperience moved her gentle ruth,
- And (as her junior by six weeks) his youth.
LII
- These forty days' advantage of her years --
- And hers were those which can face calculation,
- Boldly referring to the list of peers
- And noble births, nor dread the enumeration --
- Gave 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 at somewhere before thirty --
- Say seven-and-twenty; for I never knew
- The strictest in chronology and virtue
- Advance beyond, while they could pass for new.
- O Time! why dost not pause? Thy scythe, so dirty
- With rust, should surely cease to hack and hew.
- Reset it; shave more smoothly, also slower,
- If but to keep thy credit as a mower.
LIV
- But Adeline was far from that ripe age,
- Whose ripeness is but bitter at the best:
- 'T was rather her experience made her sage,
- For she had seen the world and stood its test,
- As I have said in -- I forget what page;
- 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,
- She put all coronets into commotion:
- At seventeen, too, the world was still enchanted
- With the new Venus of their brilliant ocean:
- At eighteen, though below her feet still panted
- A hecatomb of suitors with devotion,
- She had consented to create again
- That Adam, call'd "The happiest of men."
LVI
- Since then she had sparkled through three glowing winters,
- Admired, adored; but also so correct,
- That she had puzzled all the acutest hinters,
- Without the apparel of being circumspect:
- They could not even glean the slightest splinters
- From off the marble, which had no defect.
- She had also snatch'd a moment since her marriage
- To bear a son and heir -- and one miscarriage.
LVII
- Fondly the wheeling fire-flies flew around her,
- Those little glitterers of the London night;
- But none of these possess'd a sting to wound her --
- She was a pitch beyond a coxcomb's flight.
- Perhaps she wish'd an aspirant profounder;
- But whatsoe'er she wish'd, she acted right;
- And whether coldness, pride, or virtue dignify
- A woman, so she's good, what does it signify?
LVIII
- 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
- 'T is sad to hack into the roots of things,
- They are so much intertwisted with the earth;
- So that the branch a goodly verdure flings,
- 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. [*]
LX
- With the kind view of saving an éclat,
- Both to the duchess and diplomatist,
- The Lady Adeline, as soon's she saw
- That Juan was unlikely to resist
- (For foreigners don't know that a faux pas
- In England ranks quite on a different list
- From those of other lands unblest 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 clients' 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.
LXIII
- Her Grace, too, pass'd for being an intrigante,
- And somewhat méchante in her amorous sphere;
- One of those pretty, precious plagues, which haunt
- A lover with caprices soft and dear,
- That like to make a quarrel, when they can't
- Find one, each day of the delightful year;
- Bewitching, torturing, as they freeze or glow,
- And -- what is worst of all -- won't let you go:
LXIV
- The sort of thing to turn a young man's head,
- Or make a Werter of him in the end.
- No wonder then a purer soul should dread
- This sort of chaste liaison for a friend;
- It were much better to be wed or dead,
- Than wear a heart a woman loves to rend.
- 'T is best to pause, and think, ere you rush on,
- If that a bonne fortune be really bonne.
LXV
- And first, in the o'erflowing of her heart,
- Which really knew or thought it knew no guile,
- She call'd her husband now and then apart,
- And bade him counsel Juan. With a smile
- Lord Henry heard her plans of artless art
- To wean Don Juan from the siren's wile;
- And answer'd, like a statesman or a prophet,
- In such guise that she could make nothing of it.
LXVI
- Firstly, he said, "he never interfered
- In any body's business but the king's:"
- Next, that "he never judged from what appear'd,
- Without strong reason, of those sort of things:"
- Thirdly, that "Juan had more brain than beard,
- And was not to be held in leading strings;"
- And fourthly, what need hardly be said twice,
- "That good but rarely came from good advice."
LXVII
- And, therefore, doubtless to approve the truth
- Of the last axiom, he advised his spouse
- To leave the parties to themselves, forsooth --
- At least as far as bienséance allows:
- That time would temper Juan's faults of youth;
- That young men rarely made monastic vows;
- That opposition only more attaches --
- But here a messenger brought in despatches:
LXVIII
- And being of the council call'd "the Privy,"
- Lord Henry walk'd into his cabinet,
- To furnish matter for some future Livy
- To tell how he reduced the nation's debt;
- And if their full contents I do not give ye,
- It is because I do not know them yet;
- But I shall add them in a brief appendix,
- To come between mine epic and its index.
LXIX
- But ere he went, he added a slight hint,
- Another gentle common-place or two,
- Such as are coin'd in conversation's mint,
- And pass, for want of better, though not new:
- Then broke his packet, to see what was in 't,
- And having casually glanced it through,
- Retired; and, as went out, calmly kiss'd her,
- Less like a young wife than an agéd sister.
LXX
- He was a cold, good, honourable man,
- Proud of his birth, and proud of every thing;
- A goodly spirit for a state divan,
- A figure fit to walk before a king;
- Tall, stately, form'd to lead the courtly van
- On birthdays, glorious with a star and string;
- The very model of a chamberlain --
- And such I mean to make him when I reign.
LXXI
- But there was something wanting on the whole --
- I don't know what, and therefore cannot tell --
- Which pretty women -- the sweet souls -- call soul.
- Certes it was not body; he was well
- Proportion'd, as a poplar or a pole,
- A handsome man, that human miracle;
- And in each circumstance of love or war
- Had still preserved his perpendicular.
LXXII
- Still there was something wanting, as I 've said --
- That undefinable "Je ne sçais quoi,"
- Which, for what I know, may of yore have led
- To Homer's Iliad, since it drew to Troy
- The Greek Eve, Helen, from the Spartan's bed;
- Though on the whole, no doubt, the Dardan boy
- Was much inferior to King Menelaüs: --
- But thus it is some women will betray us.
LXXIII
- There is an awkward thing which much perplexes,
- Unless like wise Tiresias we had proved
- By turns the difference of the several sexes;
- Neither can show quite how they would be loved.
- The sensual for a short time but connects us,
- The sentimental boasts to be unmoved;
- But both together form a kind of centaur,
- Upon whose back 't is better not to venture.
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 part?
- There lies the rub -- and this they are but weak in.
- Frail mariners afloat without a chart,
- They run before the wind through high seas breaking;
- And when they have made the shore through every shock,
- 'T is odd, or odds, it may turn out a rock.
LXXV
- There is a flower call'd "Love in Idleness,"
- For which see Shakspeare's everblooming garden; --
- I will not make his great description less,
- And beg his British godship's humble pardon,
- If in my extremity of rhyme's distress,
- I touch a single leaf where he is warden; --
- But though the flower is different, with the French
- Or Swiss Rousseau, cry "Voilà la Pervenche!" [*]
LXXVI
- Eureka! I have found it! What I mean
- To say is, not that love is idleness,
- But that in love such idleness has been
- An accessory, as I have cause to guess.
- Hard labour's an indifferent go-between;
- Your men of business are not apt to express
- Much passion, since the merchant-ship, the Argo,
- Convey'd Medea as her supercargo.
LXXVII
- "Beatus ille procul!" from "negotiis," [*]
- Saith Horace; the great little poet's wrong;
- His other maxim, "Noscitur a sociis,"
- Is much more to the purpose of his song;
- Though even that were sometimes too ferocious,
- Unless good company be kept too long;
- But, in his teeth, whate'er their state or station,
- Thrice happy they who have an occupation!
LXXVIII
- Adam exchanged his Paradise for ploughing,
- Eve made up millinery with fig leaves --
- The earliest knowledge from the tree so knowing,
- As far as I know, that the church receives:
- And since that time it need not cost much showing,
- That many of the ills o'er which man grieves,
- And still more women, spring from not employing
- Some hours to make the remnant worth enjoying.
LXXIX
- 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,
- Especially when they would look like lies;
- I therefore deal in generalities.
LXXXI
- "An oyster may be cross'd in love" -- and why?
- Because he mopeth idly in his shell,
- And heaves a lonely subterraqueous sigh,
- Much as a monk may do within his cell:
- And à-propos of monks, their piety
- With sloth hath found it difficult to dwell;
- Those vegetables of the Catholic creed
- Are apt exceedingly to run to seed.
LXXXII
- O Wilberforce! thou man of black renown,
- Whose merit none enough can sing or say,
- Thou hast struck one immense Colossus down,
- Thou moral Washington of Africa!
- 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;
- You have freed the blacks -- now pray shut up the whites.
LXXXIII
- Shut up the bald-coot bully Alexander!
- Ship off the Holy Three to Senegal;
- Teach them that "sauce for goose is sauce for gander,"
- And ask them how they like to be in thrall?
- Shut up each high heroic salamander,
- Who eats fire gratis (since the pay's but small);
- Shut up -- no, not the King, but the Pavilion,
- Or else 't will cost us all another million.
LXXXIV
- Shut up the world at large, let Bedlam out;
- And you will be perhaps surprised to find
- All things pursue exactly the same route,
- As now with those of soi-disant sound mind.
- This I could prove beyond a single doubt,
- Were there a jot of sense among mankind;
- But till that point d'appui is found, alas!
- Like Archimedes, I leave earth as 't was.
LXXXV
- 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 't is 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
- Cost her an effort, which is a sad toil,
- The stone of Sisyphus, if once we move
- Our feelings 'gainst the nature of the soil.
- She had nothing to complain of, or reprove,
- No bickerings, no connubial turmoil:
- Their union was a model to behold,
- Serene and noble -- conjugal, but cold.
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
- In any thing, however she might flatter
- Herself that her intentions were the best,
- Intense intentions are a dangerous matter:
- Impressions were much stronger than she guess'd,
- And gather'd as they run like growing water
- Upon her mind; the more so, as her breast
- Was not at first too readily impress'd.
LXXXIX
- But when it was, she had that lurking demon
- Of double nature, and thus doubly named --
- Firmness yclept in heroes, kings, and seamen,
- That is, when they succeed; but greatly blamed
- As obstinacy, both in men and women,
- Whene'er their triumph pales, or star is tamed: --
- And 't will perplex the casuist in morality
- To fix the due bounds of this dangerous quality.
XC
- Had Buonaparte won at Waterloo,
- It had been firmness; now 't is pertinacity:
- Must the event decide between the two?
- I leave it to your people of sagacity
- To draw the line between the false and true,
- If such can e'er be drawn by man's capacity:
- My business is with Lady Adeline,
- Who in her way too was a heroine.
XCI
- She knew not her own heart; then how should I?
- I think not she was then in love with Juan:
- If so, she would have had the strength to fly
- The wild sensation, unto her a new one:
- She merely felt a common sympathy
- (I will not say it was a false or true one)
- In him, because she thought he was in danger, --
- Her husband's friend, her own, young, and a stranger,
XCII
- She was, or thought she was, his friend -- and this
- Without the farce of friendship, or romance
- Of Platonism, which leads so oft amiss
- Ladies who have studied friendship but in France,
- Or Germany, where people purely kiss.
- To thus much Adeline would not advance;
- But of such friendship as man's may to man be
- She was as capable as woman can be.
XCIII
- No doubt the secret influence of the sex
- Will there, as also in the ties of blood,
- An innocent predominance annex,
- And tune the concord to a finer mood.
- If free from passion, which all friendship checks,
- And your true feelings fully understood,
- No friend like to a woman earth discovers,
- So that you have not been nor will be lovers.
XCIV
- Love bears within its breast the very germ
- Of change; and how should this be otherwise?
- That violent things more quickly find a term
- Is shown through nature's whole analogies;
- And how should the most fierce of all be firm?
- Would you have endless lightning in the skies?
- Methinks Love's very title says enough:
- How should "the tender passion" e'er be tough?
XCV
- Alas! by all experience, seldom yet
- (I merely quote what I have heard from many)
- Had lovers not some reason to regret
- The passion which made Solomon a zany.
- I've also seen some wives (not to forget
- The marriage state, the best or worst of any)
- Who were the very paragons of wives,
- Yet made the misery of at least two lives.
XCVI
- I've also seen some female friends ('t is odd,
- But true -- as, if expedient, I could prove)
- That faithful were through thick and thin, abroad,
- At home, far more than ever yet was Love --
- Who did not quit me when Oppression trod
- Upon me; whom no scandal could remove;
- Who fought, and fight, in absence, too, my battles,
- Despite the snake Society's loud rattles.
XCVII
- Whether Don Juan and chaste Adeline
- Grew friends in this or any other sense,
- Will be discuss'd hereafter, I opine:
- At present I am glad of a pretence
- To leave them hovering, as the effect is fine,
- And keeps the atrocious reader in suspense;
- The surest way for ladies and for books
- To bait their tender, or their tenter, hooks.
XCVIII
- Whether they rode, or walk'd, or studied Spanish
- To read Don Quixote in the original,
- A pleasure before which all others vanish;
- Whether their talk was of the kind call'd "small,"
- Or serious, are the topics I must banish
- To the next Canto; where perhaps I shall
- Say something to the purpose, and display
- Considerable talent in my way.
XCIX
- Above all, I beg all men to forbear
- Anticipating aught about the matter:
- They'll only make mistakes about the fair,
- And Juan too, especially the latter.
- And I shall take a much more serious air
- Than I have yet done, in this epic satire.
- It is not clear that Adeline and Juan
- Will fall; but if they do, 't will be their ruin.
C
- But great things spring from little -- Would you think,
- That in our youth, as dangerous a passion
- As e'er brought man and woman to the brink
- Of ruin, rose from such a slight occasion,
- As few would ever dream could form the link
- Of such a sentimental situation?
- You'll never guess, I'll bet you millions, milliards --
- It all sprung from a harmless game at billiards.
CI
- 'T is strange -- but true; for truth is always strange;
- Stranger than fiction; if it could be told,
- How much would novels gain by the exchange!
- How differently the world would men behold!
- How oft would vice and virtue places change!
- The new world would be nothing to the old,
- If some Columbus of the moral seas
- Would show mankind their souls' antipodes.
CII
- What "antres vast and deserts idle" then
- Would be discover'd in the human soul!
- What icebergs in the hearts of mighty men,
- With self-love in the centre as their pole!
- What Anthropophagi are nine of ten
- Of those who hold the kingdoms in control
- Were things but only call'd by their right name,
- Cæsar himself would be ashamed of fame.