Oh. Love! of whom great Cæsar was the suitor, 'Stop! So I stopp'd.-But to return: that Yet 'tis a painful feeling, and unwilling, As when she rose upon us like an Eve, [ling Now o'er it clouds and thunder must be driven, And darkness and destruction as on high: But when it hath been scorch'd, and pierced, and riven, Its storms expire in water-drops; the eye Pours forth at last the heart's blood turn'd to tears, Which make the English climate of our years. CCXV. The liver is the lazaret of bile, But very rarely executes its function; For the first passion stays there such a while, That all the rest creep in and form a junction, Like knots of vipers on a dunghill's soil, Rage, fear, hate, jealousy, revenge, compunc tion, So that all mischiefs spring up from this entrail, Like earthquakes from the hidden fire call'd 'central.' CCXVI. "Twould save us many a heartache, many a shil-In the meantime, without proceeding more (For we must get them anyhow, or grieve); Whereas, if one sole lady pleased for ever, How pleasant for the heart as well as liver! CCXIV. The heart is like the sky, a part of heaven, But changes night and day, too, like the sky In this anatomy, I've finish'd now That being about the number I'll allow And laying down my pen, I make my bow, Leaving Don Juan and Haidée to plead :| For them and theirs with all who deign to read. 1. CANTO THE THIRD. HAIL, Muse! et cetera.-We left Juan sleeping, 11. Oh, Love what is it, in this world of ours, Which makes it fatal to be loved? Ah! why With cypress branches hast thou wreathed thy bowers, And made thy best interpreter a sigh? As those who dote on odours pluck the flowers, And place them on their breast-but place to die Thus the frail beings we would fondly cherish, Are laid within our bosoms but to perish. III. In her first passion, woman loves her lover; In all the others all she loves is love, Which grows a habit she can ne'er get over, I know not if the fault be men's or theirs ; Unless at once she plunge for life in prayers)After a decent time must be gallanted: Although, no doubt, her first of love affairs Is that to which her heart is wholly granted: Yet there are some, they say, who have had Is sharpen'd from its high celestial flavour, VI. There's something of antipathy, as 'twere, Is used until the truth arrives too late- The same things change their names at such For instance-passion in a lover's glorious, VII. Men grow ashamed of being so very fond; (But that, of course, is rare), and then despond: The same things cannot always be admired, Yet 'tis 'so nominated in the bond,' Yet they were happy-happy in the illicit That both are tied till one shall have expired. Sad thought! to lose the spouse that was adorn-When we have what we like, 'tis hard to miss it, ing Our days, and put one's servants into mourning. VIII. There's doubtless something in domestic doings, There's nothing wrong in a connubial kiss. IX. All tragedies are finish'd by a death; All comedies are ended by a marriage: The future states of both are left to faith, For authors fear description might disparage The worlds to come of both, or fall beneath, And then both worlds would punish their miscarriage; [ready, So leaving each their priest and prayer-book They say no more of Death or of the Lady. X. The only two that in my recollection Thus she came often, not a moment losing, XIV. Let not his mode of raising cash seem strange, His title, and 'tis nothing but taxation; XV. The good old gentleman had been detain'd And, in the hope of more, at sea remain'd, By swamping one of the prizes; he had chain'd Have sung of heaven and hell, or marriage, Dante and Milton,† and of both the affection Was hapless in their nuptials, for some bar Of fault or temper ruin'd the connection (Such things, in fact, it don't ask much to But Dante's Beatrice and Milton's Eve [mar); Were not drawn from their spouses, you conceive. XI. Some persons say that Dante meant theology ⚫ Dante calls his wife, in the Inferno, 'La fiera moglie.' Milton's first wife ran away from him within the first month. If she had not, what would John Milton have done? Some he disposed of off Cape Matapan, Among his friends the Mainots: some he sold Toss'd overboard, unsaleable (being old); XVII. The merchandise was served in the same way, French stuffs, lace, tweezers, toothpicks, teapot, Guitars and castanets from Alicant, [tray, All which selected from the spoil he gathers, Robb'd for his daughter by the best of fathers. XVIII. Born to some friend, who holds his wife and riches And that his Argus bites him by-the breeches. XXIV. If single, probably his plighted fair A monkey, a Dutch mastiff, a mackaw, Has in his absence wedded some rich miser; He chose from several animals he saw A terrier, too, which once had been a Briton's, Who dying on the coast of Ithaca, [pittance; The peasants gave the poor dumb thing a These to secure in this strong blowing weather, He caged in one huge hamper all together. May quarrel, and, the lady growing wiser, He may resume his amatory care As cavalier servente, or despise her; And that his sorrow may not be a dumb one, Write odes on the Inconstancy of Woman. XXV. And oh! ye gentlemen who have already And the true Hymen (the first's but a screen)- XXVI. Lambro, our sea-solicitor, who had Much less experience of dry land than ocean, On seeing his own chimney-smoke, felt glad; But not knowing metaphysics, had no notion Of the true reason of his not being sad, Or that of any other strong emotion; He loved his child, and would have wept the loss of her, But knew the cause no more than a philosopher. XXVII. He saw his white walls shining in the sun, He heard his rivulet's light bubbling run, Of arms (in the East all arm)-and various dyes XXVIII. And as the spot where they appear he nears, A pipe, too, and a drum, and shortly after, XXIX. And still more nearly to the place advancing, Descending rather quickly the declivity, Through the waved branches, o'er the green sward glancing, 'Midst other indications of festivity, Seeing a troop of his domestics dancing Like dervises, who turn as on a pivot, he |