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XL.

XXXI.

XXXIX. A fox-hunt to a foreigner is strange;

Chaste were his steps, each kept within due bound, 'T is also subject to the double danger

And elegance was sprinkled o'er his figure; Of tumbling first, and having in exchange

Like swift Camilla, he scarce skimm'd the ground, Some pleasant jesting at the awkward stranger ; And rather held in than put forth his vigour : But Juan had been early taught to range,

And then he had an ear for music's sound, The wilds, as doth an Arab turn d avenger,

Which might defy a crotchel-critic's rigour. So that his horse, or charger, hunter, hack,

Such classic passans flaws--set off our hero,
Knew that he had a rider on his back.

He glanced like a personified bolero;
XXXIII.
And now in this new field, with some applause,

Or, like a flying hour before Aurora,
He clear'd hedge, ditch, and double post, and rail, In Guido's famous fresco, which alone
And never craned,' and made but few « faux pas, Is worth a tour to Rome, although no more a
And only fretted when the scent 'gan fail.

Remnant were there of the old world's sole throne. He broke, 't is true, some statutes of the laws

The « tout ensemble» of his movements wore a Of hunting-for the sagest youth is frail;

Grace of the soft ideal, seldom shown,
Rode o'er the hounds, it may be, now and then, And ne'er to be described ; for, to the dolour
And once o'er several country gentlemen.

Of bards and prosers, words are void of colour.
XXXIV.

XLI.
But, on the whole, to general admiration
He acquitted both himself and horse : the squires

No marvel then he was a favourite;
Marvellid at merit of another nation :

A full-grown Cupid, very much admired; The boors cried « Dang it! who'd have thought itin-| A little spoil'd, but by no means so quite ; Sires,

At least he kept his vanity retired, The Nestors of the sporting generation,

Such was his tact, he could alike delight Swore praises, and recall'd their former fires;

The chaste, and those who are not so much inspired. The huntsman's self relented to a grin,

The Duchess of Fitz-Fulke, who loved « tracasserie, And rated him almost a whipper-in.

Began to treat him with some small a agacerie.»
XXXV.

XLII.
Such were his trophies ;-not of spear and shield, She was a fine and somewhat full-blown blonde,

But leaps, and bursts, and sometimes foxes' brushes; Desirable, distinguish'd, celebrated
Yet I must own,--although in this I yield

For several winters in the grand, grand monde. To patriot sympathy a Briton's blushes,

I'd rather not say what might be related He thought at heart like courtly Chesterfield,

Of her exploits, for this were ticklish ground; Who, after a long chase o'er bills, dales, bushes, Besides there might be falsehood in what's stated : And what not, though he rode beyond all price, Her late performance had been a dead set Ask’d, next day, «if men ever hunted twice ?» At Lord Augustus Fitz-Plantagenet. XXXVI.

XLIJI. He also had a quality uncommon

This noble personage began to look To early risers after a long chase,

A little black upon this new flirtation; Who wake in winter ere the cock can summon But such small licenses must lovers brook, December's drowsy day to his dull race,

Mere freedoms of the female corporation. A quality agreeable to woman,

Woe to the man who ventures a rebuke! When her soft liquid words run on apace,

'I will but precipitate a situation Who likes a listener, whether saint or sinner,– Extremely disagreeable, but common He did not fall asleep just after dinner.

To calculators when they count on woman.
XXXVII.

XLIV.
But, light and airy, stood on the alert,

The circle smiled, then whisper'd, and then sneerd; And shone in the best part of dialogue,

The Misses bridled, and the matrons frown'd; By humouring always what they might assert, Some hoped things might not turn out as they feard; And listening to the topics most in vogue:

Some would not deem such women could be found; Now grave, now gay, but never dull or pert;

Some ne'er believed one half of what they heard; Apd smiling but in secret.--cupung rogue!

Some look'd perplexd, and others look'd profound ; He ne'er presumed to make an error clearer;

And several pitied with sincere regret
In short, there never was a better hearer.

Poor Lord Augustus Fiuz-Plantagenet.
XXXVIII

XLV.
And then he danced ;-all foreigners excel

But, what is odd, pone ever named the duke, The serious Angles in the eloquence

Who, one might think, was something in the affair. of pantomime,-he dauced, I say, right well, True, he was absent, and, 't was rumour'd, took With emphasis, and also with good sense

But small concern about the when, or where, A thing in footing indispensable:

Or what his consort did : if he could brook He danced without theatrical pretepce,

Her gaieties, none had a right to stare: Not like a ballet-master in the van

Theirs was that best of unions, past all doubt, Of his drill'd nymphs, but like a gentleman.

Which pever 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.

SLVII.
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 iwice! All if you had but follow'd my advice!»

XLVIII.
Oh, Job! you had two friends : one's quite enough,

Especially when we are ill at case;
They're 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 potI would not be a tortoise in his screen

Of stublorn shell, which waves and weather wear not. 'T is better on the whole to have felt and seen

That which bumanity 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, bideous notes of woe,

Saddler than owl-songs or the midnight blast,
Is that portentous plıcase, « I told you so,»

l'iter'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 c'er was penn'd:
Ilis 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 enumerationGave her a right to have materval fears

For a young gendeman's fit education, Though she was far from that Icap-year, whose leap, In female dates, strikes time all of a leap.

LIII.
This may be fix'd at somewhere before thirty-

Say seven-and-twenty; fur I never koew
The strictest in chronology and virtue

Advance beyond, while they could pass for new. Oh, 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 coronels into commotion :
Al seventeen too the world was still enchanted

With the new Venus of their brilliant ocean:
At eighteen, though beiow her feet still panted

A hecatomb of suitors with devotion,
She had consented to create again
That Adam, callid «the happiest of men.»

LVL
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 band also snatclid a moment since her marriage
To bear a son and heir-aud one miscarriage.

LVII.
Fondly the wheeling fire-flies flew around her,

Those little plitterers of the London night;
But none of these possess'd a sting to wound her-

She was a pitch beyond a coxcomb's flighi. i'erlaps she wislıd an aspirant profounder ;

But, whatsoe'er she wishid, she acted right;
And whether coldness, pride, or virtue, dignify
A woman, so she's good, wliat does it sigoify?

LVIII.
I hate a motive like a lingering bottle,

Which with the landlord makes too long a stand,
Leaving all clarctless the unmoisten'd throttle,

Especially with politics on hand;
Iliate it, as I hate a drove of cattle,

Who wluirl the dust as simooms whirl the sand;
Tate 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 goodiy verdure flings,

I reck not if an acorn gave it birth.
To trace ali 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

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And pass,

LX.
With the kind view of saving an éclât,

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, unbless'd with juries,
Whose verdict for such sin a perfect cure is)

LXI.
The Lady Adeline resolved to take

Such measures as she thought might best impede The furiber 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 feard the very worst:

His grace was an enduring, married man,
And was not likely all at once to burst

Toto 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, Sbe call'd her husband now and then apart,

And bade him counsel Juan. With a smile
Lord Henry beard her plans of artless art

To wean Don Juan from the siren's wile;
And answerd, like a statesman or a prophet,
In such guise that she could make nothing of it.

LXVI.
Firstly, lie suid, « he never interfered

In any body's business but the king's:»
Next, « that he never judged from what appeard,

Without strong reasou, of those sorts of things:» Thirdly, that « Juan bad more brain than beard,

Apd 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 dispatches :

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 my epic and its index.

LXIX.
But ere he went, he added a slight bint,

Another gentle common-place or two,
Such as are coiu'd in conversation's mint,

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 he went out, calmly kiss'd ber,
Less like a young wife than an aged 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 birth-days, glorious with a star and string;
The very model of a chamberlain-
And such I mean to make bim when I reign.

LXXI.
But there was something wanting on the whole-

I dont know what, and therefore cannot tellWhich prelly women--the sweet souls!--call soul.

C'ertes 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 preserv'd his perpendicular.

LXXII.
Suill there was something wanting, as I've said —

That undefinable « je ne sais 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 Menelaus, 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.

LXXXI. A something all-sufficient for the heart

An oyster may be cross'd in love,»--and why? Is that for which the sex are always seeking;

Because he mopeth idly in his shell,
But how to fill

up
that same vacant part-

And heaves a lonely subterraqueous sigh,
There lies the rub-and this they are but weak in. Much as a mook may do within his cell:
Frail mariners afloat without a chart,

And à propos of monks, their piety They run before the wiod through high seas breaking:

With sloch hath found it difficult to dwell;
And when they have made the shore through every shock, Those vegetables of the catholic creed
*T is odd, or odds, it may turn out a rock.

Are apt exceedingly to run to seed.
LXXV.

LXXXII.
There is a flower call'd « love in idleness,»

Oh, Wilberforce! thou man of black renown,
For whiclı see Shakspeare's ever-bloomiog garden, - Whose merit none enough can sing or say,
I will not make his great description less,

Thou hast struck one immense colossus down,
And beg lis Britisha godship's humble pardon,

Thou moral Washington of Africa! If, in my extremity of rhyme's distress,

But there's another lilile thing, I own, I touch a single leaf where he is warden;

Which you should perpetrate some summer's day, But though the flower is different, with the French And set the other half of earth to rights: Or Swiss Rousseau, cry, « voila la pervenche ! » You have freed the blacks-now pray shut up the whites. LXXVI.

LXXXIII. Eureka! I have found it! What I mean

Shut

up

the bald-coot bully Alexander; To say is, not that love is idleness,

Ship off the holy three to Senegal; But that in love such idleness has been

Teach them that « sauce for goose is sauce for gander, An accessory, as I have cause to guess.

And ask them how they like to be in thrall. Hard labour 's an indifferent fo-between ;

Shut up each luigh heroic salamander, Your men of business are not apt to express

Who cats fire gratis (since the pay's but small); Muchi passion, since the merchant-ship, the Argo, Shut up-no, not the king, but the pavilion, Convey'd Medea as her supercargo.

Or else 't will cost us all another million.
LXXVII.

LXXXIV. « Beatus ille procul » from « negotiis,»

Shut up the world at large; let Bedlam out, Saith Horace; the great little poet 's wrong;

And

you will be perhaps surprised to find llis other maxim, « Noscitur a sociis

All things pursue exactly the same route, Is much more to the purpose of liis song;

As now with those of soi-disant sound mind. Though even that were sometimes too ferocious, This I could prove beyond a single doubi, Unless good company he kept too long;

Were there a jot of sense among mankind; But, in his tecth, whate'er their state or station,

But till that point d'appui is found, alas!
Thrice happy they who have an occupation!

Like Archimedes, I leave earth as 't was.
LXXVIU.

LXXXV.
Adam exchanged his paradise for ploughing;

Our gentle Adeline had one defectEve made up millinery withi fig-leaves-

Her heart was vacant, though a splendid mansion ; The earliest knowledge from the tree so knowing, Her conduct had been perfectly correct, As far as I kuow, that the church receives :

As she had seen nought claiming its expansion. And since that time it need not cost much showing, I wavering spirit may be easier wreck'd, That many of the ills o'er which man grieves,

Because 't is frailer, doubtless, than a stauch one; And still more women, spring from not employing But when the latter works its own undoing, Some hours to make the remnant worth enjoying. Jis inner crash is like an earthquake's ruin. LXXIX.

LIXIVI. And hence liigh life is oft a dreary void,

Sue loved her lord, or thought so; but that love A rack of pleasures, where we must invent

Cost her an effort, which is a sad toil, A something wherewithal to be annoy'd.

The stone of Sysiplius, if once we move Bards may sing what they please about content; Our feelings painst the nature of the soil. Contented, when translated, means but cloy'd;

She had nothing to complain of, or reprove, And hence arise the woes of septiment,

No bickerings, no connubial turmoil: Blue devils, and blue-stockings, and romances

Their union was a model to behold, Reduced to practice, and perform'd like dances. Sereue and noble,-conjugal but cold. LXXX.

LXXXVII. I do declare, upor au affidavit,

There was no great disparity of years, Romances I ne'er read like those I have seen;

Though much in temper; but they never clashd: Nor, if unto the world I ever gave it,

They moved like stars united in their spheres, Would some believe that such a tale had been:

Or like thie Rhone by Leman's waters wash'd, But such intent I never had, nor have it ;

Where mingled and yet separate appears Some truths are better kept behind a screen,

The river from the lake, all bluely dash'd Especially when they would look like lies;

Through the serene and placid glassy deep, I therefore deal in generalities.

Which fain would lull its river-child to sleep.

LXXXVIII.

XCV. Now, when she once had ta'en an interest

Alas! by all experience, seldom yet In any thing, however she might flatter

(I merely quo.e what I have heard from many) Herself that her intentions were the best,

Had lovers not some reason to regret Intense intentions are a dangerous matter:

The passion which made Solomon a zany. Impressions were much stronger than she guess'd, I've also seen some wives (not to forget

And gather'd as they run, like growing water, The marriage state, the best or worst of any) Upon her mind; the more so, as her breast

Who were the very paragons of wives,
Was not at first too readily impress d.

Yet made the misery of at least two lives.
LXXXIX.

XCVI.
But when it was, she had that lurking demon

I've also seen some female friends ('t is odd, Of double nature, and thus doubly named

But true--as, if expedient, I could prove) Firmness yclept in heroes, kings, and seamen,

That fai:bful were, through thick and thin, abroad, That is, when they succeed; but greatly blamed At home, far more than ever yet was loveAs obstinacy, both in men and women,

Who did not quit me when oppression trod Whene'er their triumph pales, or star is tamed:- l'pon me; whom no scandal could remove; And I will perplex the casuists in morality,

Who fought, and fight, in absence too, my battles, To fix the due bounds of this dangerous quality. Despite the snake society's loud rattles. XC.

XCVII. Had Bonaparte won at Waterloo,

Whether Don Juan and chaste Adeline It had been firmness; now 't is pertinacity:

Grew friends in this or any other sense, Must the event decide between the two?

Will be discussid hereafter, I opine: I leave it to your people of sagacity

Al present I am glad of a pretence To draw the line between the false and true,

To leave them hovering, as the effect is fine, If such can e'er be drawn by man's capacity:

And keeps the atrocious reader in suspense; My business is with Lady Adeline,

The surest way for ladies and for books
Who in her way too was a heroine.

To bait their tender or their tenter-hooks.
XCI.

XCVIII.
She knew not her own heart; then how should I? Whether they rode, or walk'd, or studied Spanish,
I think not she was then in love with Juan :

To read Don Quixote in the original, If so, she would have had the strength to fly

A pleasure before which all others vanish; The wild sensation, unto her a new one:

Whether their talk was of the kind call d « small, » She merely felt a common sympathy

Or serious, are the topics which I must banish (I will not say it was a false or true one)

To the next canto; where, perhaps, I shall
In bim, because she thought he was in danger- Say something to the purpose, and display
Her husband's friend, her own, young, and a stranger. Considerable talent in my way.
XCII.

XCIX.
She was, or thought she was, his friend-and this Above all, I beg all men to forbear
Without the farce of friendship, or romance

Anticipating aught about the matter:
Of Platonism, which leads so oft amiss

They 'll only make mistakes about the fair,
Ladies who have studied friendship but in France, And Juan 100, especially the latter.
Or Germany, where people purely kiss.

And I shall take a much more serious air
To ibus much Adeline would not advance;

Than I have yet done in this epic satire,
But of such friendship as man's may lo man be, It is not clear that Adeline and Juan
She was as capable as woman can be.

Will fall; but if they do, 'l will be their ruin.
XCIU.

C.
No doubt the secret influence of the sex

But great things spring from little:-would you think, Will there, as also in the ties of blood,

That, in our youth, as dangerous a passion An innocent predominance annex,

As e'er brought man and woman to the brink
And tune the concord to a finer mood.

Of ruio, rose from such a slight occasion
If free from passion, which all friendship checks, As few would ever dream could form the link
And your true feelings fully understood,

Of such a sentimental situation ?
No friend like to a woman earth discovers,

You 'll never guess, I 'll bet you millions, milliards So that you have not been nor will be lovers.

It all sprung from a harmless game at billiards.
SCIV.

CI.
Love bears within its breast the very germ

“T is strange-but true; for truth is always strange, Of change; and how should this be ouberwise? Stranger than fiction: if it could be told, That violent things more quickly find a term

How much would novels gain by the exchange! Is shown through nature's wbole analogies :

How differently the world would men behold! And how should the most fierce of all be firm?

llow oft would vice and virtue places change! Would

The new world would be nothing to the old, have endless lightning in the skies?

you
Methinks love's very litle says enough:

If some Columbus of the moral seas
How should « the tender passion» e'er be tough? Would show mankind their souls' antipodes.

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