LXXVI. The mind is lost in mighty contemplation

I sometimes almost think that eyes have ears : Of jotellect expended on two courses;

This much is sure, that, out of ear-shot, things And iodigestion's grand multiplication

Are somehow echoed to the pretty dears, Requires arithmetic beyond my forces.

Of which I can't tell whence their knowledge springs ; Who would suppose, from Adam's simple ration, Like that same mystic music of the spheres,

That cookery could have call'd forth such resources, Which no one hears so loudly tlough it rings. As form a science and a pomenclature

*T is wonderful how oft the sex have heard From out the commonest dermands of nature?

Long dialogues which pass'd without a word!

Thr classes jingled, and the plates tingled;

Aurora sat with that indifference The diners of celebrity dined well;

Which piques a preux chevalier-as it ought : The ladies with more moderation mingled

Of all offences that's the worst offence, Jo the feast, pecking less than I can tell;

Which seems to hint you are not worth a thought. Also the younger men too; for a springald

Now Juan, though no coxcomb in pretence, Can't like ripe age in gourmandisc excel,

Was pot exactly pleased to be so caught ;
But thinks less of good eating than the whisper Like a good ship entangled among ice,
(When seated next bim) of some pretty lisper.

And after so much excellent advice.

Alas! I must leave undescribed the gibier,

To his gay nothings, nothing was replied, The salmi, the consommé, the purée,

Or something which was nothing, as urbanity All which I use to make my rhymes run glibber Required. Aurora scarcely look'd aside,

Than could roast beef in our rough John Bull way: Nor even smiled enough for any vanity. I must not introduce even a spare rib here,

The devil was in the girl! Could it be pride, « Rubble and squeak» would spoil my liquid lay; Or modesty, or absence, or inanity? Put I have dined, and must forego, alas!

Heaven koows! But Adeline's malicious eyes
The chaste description even of a « becasse,»

Sparkled with her successful prophecies.

And fruits, and ice, and all that art refines

And look'd as much as if to say, « I said it,»--From nature for the service of the goût, -

A kind of triumph I 'll not recommend,
Taste or the gout,-pronounce it as inclines

Because it sometimes, as I've seen or read it,
Your stomach. Ere you dine, the French will do; Both in the case of lover and of friend,
But after, there are sometimes certain signs

Will pique a gentleman, for his own credit,
Which prove plain English truer of the two.

To bring what was a jest to a serious end; Hast ever had the gout? I have not bad il

For all men prophesy what is or was, But I may have, and you too, reader, dread it.

And hate those who won't let them come to pass. LXXIII.

LXXX. The simple olives, best allies of wine,

Juan was drawn thus into some attentions, Must I pass over in my bill of fare?

Slight but select, and just enough to express, I must, although a fivourile « plat» of mine

To females of perspicuous comprehensions, In Spain, and Lucca, Athens, every where :

That he would rather make them more than less. On them and bread 't was oft my luck to dine,

Aurora at the last (so history mentions, The grass my table-cloth, in open air,

Though probably much less a fact thau guess) On Sunium or llymetlus, like liogenes,

So far relax'd her thoughts from their sweet prison, Of whom balf my philosophy the progeny is.

As once or twice to smile, if not to listen.

Amidst this tumult of fish, flesh, and fowl,

From answering, she began to question : this And vegetables, all in masquerade,

With her was rare; and Adeline, who as yet The guests were placed according to their roll, Thought her predictions wept not much amiss, But various as the various meats display'd :

Began to dread shed thaw to a coquelleDo Juan sate next an «à l'Espagnolen

So very difficult, they say, it is No damsel, but a disli, as bath been said;

To keep extremes from meeting, when once set But so far like a lidy, that 't was drest

In motion; but she here too much refined-
Superbly, and contain'd a world of zest.

Aurora's spirit was not of that kind.

By some odd chance too he was placed between

But Juan had a sort of winning way, Aurora and the Lady Adeline

A proud humiliy, if such there be, A si'uation difficult, I ween,

Which show'd such deference to what females say, For man therein, with eyes and heart, to dine. As if each charming word were a decree. Also the conference which we have seen

His tact 100 temper'd him from grave to gay, Was not such as 10 encourage bim to shine;

And taughit bim when to be reserved or free : For Adeline, addressing few words to him,

lle bad the art of drawing people out, With iwo transcendeui eyes seem'd to look through him. Without their seeing what he was about,

Aurora, who in her indifference

Confounded him in common with the crowd
Of flutterers, though she deem'd he had more sense

Than wliispering foplings, or than withings lond, Commenced (from such slight things will great com

To feel that tlattery whichi attracts the proud
Rather by deference than compliment,
And wins even by a delicate dissent.

And then he had good looks;-that point was carried

Vem. con. amongst the worneu, which I grieve To say leads oft to crim. con, with the married

A case which to the juries we may leave, Since with digressions we too long have tarried.

Now though we know of old that looks deceive,
And always have done, somehow these good looks
Make more impression than the best of books.

Aurora, who look'd more on books than faces,

Was very young, althouglı so very sage,
Admiring more Minerva than the Graces,

Especially upon a printed page.
Bul virtue's self, witb all her tightest laces,

Ilas not the natural stays of strict old age;
And Socrates, that model of all duty,
Ownd to a penchant, though discrect, for beauty.

And girls of sixteen are thus far Socratic,

But innocently so, as Socrates :
And really, if the sage sublime and Attic

At seventy years had plantasies like these,
Whiclı Plato in luis dialogues dramatic

Has showu, I know not wlay they should displease
In virgins-always in a modest way,
Observe; for that with me 's a «sine qua.»

Also observe, that like the great Lord Coke,

(See Littleton) whene'er I have express'd Opivions lwo, which at first sight may look

Twiu opposites, the second is the best. Perhaps I lave a third 100 in a nook,

Or none at all-which seeins al sorry jest;
But if a writer should be quite consistent,
How could be possibly show things cxistent?

If people contradict themselves, can I

Help contradicting them, and every body,
Even my veracious self?- but that's a lie;

I never did so, never will-how should I? He who loubts all things, nothing can deny;

Trutli's fountains may beclear--lier streams are mudily, And cut through such canals of contradiction, That she must often navigate o'er fiction.

LXXXIX. Apologue, fable, poesy, and parable,

Are falsı, but may be renderd also true liy those who sow them in a land that's arable

'Tis wonderful what fable will not do! *T is said it makes reality more bearable

But what's reality? Who luas its clue? Philosoplıy? No; she too much rejects. Religion ? t'es; but which of all her sects?

XC. Some millions must be wrong, that's pretty clear;

Perhaps it may turn out that all were riglit. God b:elp us!

Since we've need on our career To keep our lioly beacons always bright, *T is time that some new prophel should appear

Or oid indulge man with a second sight.
Opinious wear out in some thousand years,
Without a small refreslıment from the spheres.

But here again, why will I thus entangle

Myself with metaplıysics! None can hate
So inuch as I do any kind of wrangle;

such is my folly, or my fale,
I always kuock my head against some angle

About the present, past, and future state;
Yet I wish well to Trojan and 10 Tyrian,
For I was bred a moderate Presbyterian.

But thoughI am a temperate theologian,

And also meck as a metaphysician,
Impartial between Tyrian and Trojan,

As Eldon on a lunatic commission,Io politics, my duty is to show John

Bull something of the lower world's condition.
It makes my blood boil like the springs of Hecla,
To see men let these scoundrel sovereigus break law.

But politics, and policy, and piety,

Are topics which I sometimes introduce,
Not only for the sake of their variety,

But a subservient to a moral use;
Because my business is to dress society,
And stuff with


verdant goose And now, that we may furnish with some malter all Tastes, we are going to try the supernatural.

CIV. And now I will give up all

argument : And positively henceforth no temptation Shall « fool me to the top up

of Yes, I 'll begin a thorougla reformation. Indeed I never knew what people meant

By deeming that my Muse's conversation
Was dangerous;--1 think she is as harmless
As some who labour more and yet may charm less.

Grim reader! did you ever see a ghost?

No; but you've beard- I understand-be dumb! And don't regret the time you may have lost,

For you have got that pleasure still to come :
And do not think I mean to speer at most

Of these things, or by ridicule benumb
That source of the sublime and the mysterious :-
For certain reasous my belief is serious.

Scrious ? You laugh :--you may; that will I not;

My smiles must be sincere or not at all. I say I do believe a haunted spot,

Exists-and where? That shall I not recal, Because I'd rather it should be forgot.

« Shadows the soud of Richard» may appal : In short, upon that subject I've some qualmis say Like those of the philosopher of Malmesbury. 7

my bent;

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The night (I sing by night--sometimes an owl,

And now and then a nightingale)—is dim,
And the loud shriek of

sage Minerva's fowl
Rattles around me her discordant hymn :
Old portraits from old walls upon me scowl-

I wish to heaven they would not look so grim;
'The dying embers dwindle in the grate-
I think loo that I have sale up too late :

And therefore, though 't is by no means my way

To rlıyme at noon-when I have other things
To think of, if I ever think, -I say

I feel some chilly midnight shudderings,
Áod prudently postpone, until mid-day,

Treating a topic which, alas! but brings
Shadows, but you must be in my condition
Before you learn to call this superstition.

Between two worlds life hovers like a star,

Twixt night and moro, upon the horizon's verge :
How little do we know that which we are!

How less what we may be! The eternal surge
Of time and tide rolls on, and bears afar

Our bubbles; as the old bursl, new emerge,
Lashd from the foam of ages; while the grave
Of empires heave but like some passing waves.


But of all truths which she has told, the most

True is that which she is about to tell.
said it was a story of a ghost-

What then? I only know it so befel.
Have you explored the limits of the coast,

Where all the dwellers of the earth must dwell! "T is time to strike such puny doubiers dumb as The sceptics who would not believe Columbus.

Some people would impose now with authority,

Turpiu's or Monmouth Geoffry's Chronicle;
Men whose historical superiority

Is always greatest at a miracle.
But Saint Augustine has the great priority,

Who bids all men believe the impossible,
Because it is so. Who nibble, scribble, quibble, he
Quiets at once with a quia impossibile.»

And therefore, mortals, cavil not at all;

Believe :-if't is improbable you must;
And if it is impossible, you shall :

"T is always best to take things upon trust.
I do not speak profancly to recal

Those holier mysteries, which the wise and just
Receive as gospel, and which grow more rooted,
As all truths must, the more they are disputed.

I merely mean to say what Johnson said,

That in the course of some six thousand years,
All nations bave believed that from the dead

A visitant at intervals appears;
And what is strangest upon this strange head,

Is that whatever bar the reason rears
'Gainst such belief, there's something stronger still
In its behalf, let those deny who will.

The dinner and the soirée too were done,

The supper too discussid, the dames admired,
The banqueters had dropp'd off one by one-

The song was silent, and the dance expired:
The last thin petticoats were vanishid, gone,

Like fleecy clouds into the sky retired,
And nothing brighter gleam'd through the saloon
Than dying tapers—and the peeping moon.

The evaporation of a joyous day

Is like the last glass of champagne, without
The foam which made ils virgin bumper gay;

Or like a system coupled with a doubt;
Or like a soda-boule when its spray

Has sparkled and let haif its spirit out;
Or like a billow left by storms behind,
Without the animation of the wind;

Or like an opiate which brings troubled rest,

Or none; or like-like nothing that I know
Except itself ;-such is the human breast;

A thing, of which similitudes can show
No real likeness,-like the old Tyrian vest

Dyed purple, pone at present can tell how,
If from a shell-fishi or from cocbineal.
So perish every tyrant's robe piece-meal!

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The antique Persians caught three useful things,

To draw the bow, to ride, and speak the truth.
This was the mode of Cyrus-best of kings-

A mode adopted since by modern youth.
Pows have they, generally with two strings;

Horses they ride without remorse or ruth ;
At speaking truth perhaps they are less clever,
But draw the long bow better now than ever.

The cause of this effect, or this defect, -

« For this effect defective comes by cause,»-
Is what I have not leisure to inspect;

But this I must say in my own applause,
Of all the Muses that I recollect,

Whate'er may be her follies or her flaws
In some things, mine's beyond all contradiction
The most sincere that ever dealt in fiction.

And as she treats all things, and ne'er retreats

From any thing, this Epic will contain
A wilderness of the most rare conceits,

Which you might clsewhere hope to find in vain.
*T is true there be some bitters with the sweets,

Yel mix'd so slightly that you can't complain.
But wonder they so few are, since my tale is
« De rebus cunctis et quibusdam aliis.»

But next to dressing for a rout or ball,

Undressing is a woe; our robe de chambre
May sit like that of Nessus, and recal

Thoughts quite as yellow, but less clear than amber. Titus exclaim'd, «I've lost a day!» Of all

The niglics aod days most people can remember
(I have had of both, some not to be disdain'd),
I wish they'd state how many they have gain'd.

And Juan, on retiring for the night,

Felt restless and perplexed, and compromised;
He thought Aurora Raby's eyes more bright

Than Adeline (such is advice) advised ; If he had known exactly his own plight,

le probably would have philosopluised; A great resource to all, and ne er denied Till wanted; therefore Juan only sigli'd.

He sighd;—the next resource is the full moon,

Where all sighs are deposited; and now,
It happen'd luckily, the chaste orb shone

As clear as such a climate will allow;
And Juan's mind was in the proper tone

To bail her with the apostrophe—« Oh, thou!»
Of amatory exotism the luism,
Which further to explain would be a truism.

But lover, poet, or astronoiner,

Shepherd, or swain, whoever may behold, Feel some abstraction when they gaze on her :

Great thoughts we cate! from thence (besides a cold Sometimes, unless my feelings rather err);

Deep secrets to lier rolling light are told;
The ocean's tides and mortals' braios she sways,
And also learts, if there be truth in lays.

Juan felt somewhat pensive, and disposed

For contemplation rather thau liis pillow;
The Gothic chamber, where ine was enclosed,

Let in the rippling sound of the lake's billow,
With all the mystery by midnight caused;

Below liis window waved (of course) a willow;
And lie stood yazing out on the cascade.
That tlashid and after darkeu'd in the shade.

The forms of the grim kviyhts and pictured saints

Look living in the moon; and as you turn
Backward and forward to the echoes faint

Of your own footsteps-voices from the urn Appear to wake, and shadows wild and quaint

Start from the frames which fence their aspects stera,
As if to ask how can you dare to keep
A vigil there, wliere all but death should sleep!

And the pale smile of beauties in the grave,

The charms of other days, in starlight gleams
Gliininer on biglı; their buried locks still wave

Along the canvas; their eyes glance like dreams
On ours, or spars within some dusky cave,

But death is imaged in their shadowy beams.
A picture is the past; even ere its frame
Be gilt, who sate batlı ceased to be the same.

As Juan muscd on mutability,

Or on luis mistress-Terms synonymous No sound except the echo of his sigla

Or step ran sadly through that antique house, When suddenly be heard, or thought so, nigh,

A supernatural agent-or a mouse,
Wiose little nibbling rusile will embarrass
Most people, as it plays along the arras.

It was no mouse, but lo! a monk, array'd

Jo cowl and beads and dusky garb, appeard,
Now in the moonlight, and now lapsed in shade,

Will steps that trod as heavy, yet unheard; His garments only a sliglit murmur made;

lle moved as shadowy as the sisters weird,
Put slowly; and as lie passid Juan by,
Glanced, without pausing, on him a bright eye.

Juan was petrified; he had heard a bint

Of such a spirit in these balls of old,
But thought, like most men, there was nothing in i

Beyond the rumour whiclı such spots unfold,
Coin'd froin surviving superstition's mint,

Which passes glosts in currency like gold,
But rarely scev, like gold compared with paper.
And did he see this? or was it a vapour?

Once, twice, thrice passid, repassid- the thing of air,

Or earılı beneath, or beaven, or t other place; And Juan gazed upon it with a stare,

Yet could not speak or move, but, on its base As stands a stalue, stood. he felt lois hair

Twive like a kvot of snakes around his face;
Ile tax's his tongue for words, which were not granted,
To ask the reverend person what he wanted.

The third time, after a still longer pause,

The shadow pass d away, but where? the hall
Was Jon, and thus far there was no great cause

To think liis vanishing unnatural:
Doors there were many. Through whiclı, by the laws

of physics, bodies, whether stort or iall,
Might come or yo; but Juan could postale
Through which the spectre seem'd to evaporate.

Upon his table or liis toilet - which

Of ubese is not exactily ascertained-
(I state thuis, for I am cautious to a pitch

Of nicely, where a fact is to be gain',) A lamp buru'd lgh, while lic leant froin a niche,

Where many a Gothic ornameut remain d, In chiseli stone and painted class, and all That time has left our fathers of their ball.

XVII. Thirn, as the night was clear though cold, he threw

This chunber-door wide open-und weut forth Tutoagulery, of a sombre liuc, Long, furnished with oli pictures of

great worth, Of kurghats and James leroic and chaste 100,

As doubtless should be people of high birth. But by diin lights the portraits of the dead llave something shastiy, desolate, and dread.

He stood, how long he knew not, but it seem'd.

An age-expectant, powerless, with his eyes Straiu'd on the spot where first the figure gleam'd;

Then by degrees recall'd his energies,
And would have pass'd the whole off as a dream,

But could not wake; he was, be did surmise,
Walking already, and return'd at length
Back to his chamber, shorn of half his strength.

All there was as he left it; still his taper

Burnt, and not blue, as modest tapers use,
Receiving sprites with sympathetic vapour;

He rubb'd his eyes, and they did not refuse
Their office; he took up an old newspaper ;

The paper was right easy to peruse;
He read an article the king attacking,
And a long eulogy of « Patent Blacking.»

This savour'd of this world; but his hand shook --

He shut his door, and after having read
A paragraph, I think about Horne Tooke,

Undress'd, and rather slowly went to bed. There, couch'd all snugly on his pillow's nook,

With what he'd seen his phantasy he fed,
And though it was no opiate, slumber crept
Upon him by degrees, and so be slept.

He woke betimes; and, as may be supposed,
Ponder'd upon

his visitant or vision, And whether it ought not to be disclosed,

At risk of being quizz'd for superstition. The more he thought, the more his mind was posed;

In the mean time his valet, whose precision Was great, because his master brook'd no less, Knock'd to inform him it was time to dress.


. He dressid ; and, like young people, he was wont

To take some trouble with his toilet, but This morning rather spent less time upon 't;

Aside his very mirror soon was put: His curis fell negligently o'er his front,

His clothes were not curb'd to their usual cut, His very neckcloth's Gordian knot was tied Almost a hair's breadth too much on one side.

xxx. And when he walk'd down into the saloon,

He sate bim pensive o'er a dish of tea,
Which he perhaps had not discover'd soon,

Had it not happen'd scalding hot to be,
Which made him have recourse unto his spoon;

So much distrait he was, that all could see
That something was the matter-Adeline
The first—but what she could not well divine.

She look'd and saw him pale, and turn'd as pale

Herself; then hastily look'd down and mutter'd Something, but what's not stated in my tale.

Lord Henry said, his muffin was ill buiter'd;
The Duchess of Fitz-Fulke play'd with her veil,

And look'd at Juan hard, but nothing utter'd.
Aurora Raby, with her large dark eyes,
Survey'd him with a kind of calm surprise.

Lut seeing him all cold and silent still,

And every body wondering more or less,
Fair Adeline inquired if he were ill ?

He started, and said, « Yes-po---rather-yes.»
The family physician had great skill,

And, being present, now vegan to express
His readiness to feel his pulse and tell
The cause, but Juan said, « he was quite well.»

XXXIII. « Quite well; yes, no.»-These answers were mysterious,

And yet his looks appear'd to sanction both, However they might savour of delirious;

Something like illness of a sudden growth Weigh'd on his spirit, though by no means serious.

But for the rest, as he himself seem'd loth
To state the case, it might be ta'en for granted,
It was not the physician that he wanted.

Lord Henry, who had now discuss'd his chocolate,

Also the muffin whereof he complaiu'd,
Said, Juan had not got his usual look elate,

At which he marvellid, since it had not rain'd;
Then ask'd her grace wbat news were of the duke of late?

Her grace replied, his grace was rather pain 'd
With some slight, light, hereditary (winges
Of gout, which rusts aristocratic hinges.

Then Henry turn'd to Juan, and address'd

A few words of condolence on his state:
« You look,» quoth he, « as if you d bad your rest

Broke in upon by the Black Friar of late. » « What friar?» said Juan; and he did his best

To put the question with an air sedale,
Or careless; but the effort was not valid
To hinder him from growing still more pallid.

« Oh! have you never heard of the Black Friar?

The spirit of these walls?»—« In truth not l.» « Why fame-but fame you know's sometimes a liar

Tells an odd story, of which by the by:
Whether with time the spectre has grown slayer,

Or that our sires had a more gifted eye
For such sights, though the tale is half believed,
The friar of late has not been oft perceived.

« The last time was-—» « T pray, » said Adeline-

(Who watchi'd the changes of Don Juan's brow,
And from its context thought she could divine

Connexions stronger than he chose to avow
With this same legend), -« if you but design

To jest, you 'll chuse some other theme just now,
Because the present tale bas oft been told,
And is not much improved by growing oli.»

« Jest!» quoth Milor, « Why, Adeline, you know

That we ourselves-'t was in the honey-moon-
Saw--» « Well, no matter, 't was so long ago ;

But come, I'll set your story to a tune.»
Graceful as Dian when she draws her bow,

She seized her barp, whose strings were kindled soon
As fonch'd, and plaintively began to play
The air of « 'T was a Friar of Orders Grey.»

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