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,
His garden trees all shadowy and green;
He heard his rivulet's light bubbling run,
The distant dog-bark; and perceived, between
The umbrage of the wood, so cool and dun,
The moving figures, and the sparkling sheen
Of arms (in the East, all arm)-and various dyes
Of colour'd garbs, as bright as butterflies.

XXVIII.

And as the spot where they appear he nears,
Surprised at these unwonted signs of idling,
He hears-alas! no music of the spheres,
But an unhallow'd earthly sound of fiddling!
A melody which made him doubt his ears,
The cause being past his guessing or un-
riddling;

A pipe, too, and a drum, and shortly after,
A most unoriental roar of laughter.

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 Perceived it was the Pyrrhic dance so martial, To which the Levantines are very partial.

XXX.

And, further on, a troop of Grecian girls,
The first and tallest her white kerchief waving,
Were strung together like a row of pearls,

Link'd hand in hand, and dancing: each too having

Down her white neck long floating auburn curls (The least of which would set ten poets raving: Their leader sang; and bounded to her song, With choral step and voice, the virgin throng.

XXXI.

And here, assembled cross-legg'd round their trays,

Small social parties just began to dine; Pilaus and meats of all sorts met the gaze,

And flasks of Samian and of Chian wine, And sherbet cooling in the porous vase:

Above them their dessert grew on its vine; The orange and pomegranate, nodding o'er, Dropp'd in their laps, scarce pluck'd, their mellow store.

XXXII.

A band of children, round a snow-white ram, There wreathe his venerable horns with flowers:

While, peaceful as if still an unwean'd lamb,

The patriarch of the flock all gently cowers His sober head, majestically tame,

Or eats from out the palm, or playful lowers His brow, as if in act to butt, and then, Yielding to their small hands, draws back again.

Compared with what Haidée did with his |

treasure:

"Twas wonderful how things went on improving, While she had not one hour to spare from loving.

XL.

Perhaps you think, in stumbling on this feast,
He flew into a passion, and in fact
There was no mighty reason to be pleased;
Perhaps you prophesy some sudden act,
The whip, the rack, or dungeon at the least,
To teach his people to be more exact;
And that, proceeding at a very high rate,
He show'd the royal penchants of a pirate.

XLI.

You're wrong: he was the mildest manner'd man
That ever scuttled ship or cut a throat,
With such true breeding of a gentleman,

You never could divine his real thought;
No courtier could, and scarcely woman can
Gird more deceit within a petticoat:
Pity he loved adventurous life's variety,
He was so great a loss to good society.

XLII.

Advancing to the nearest dinner-tray,
Tapping the shoulder of the nighest guest.
With a peculiar smile, which, by the way,
Boded no good, whatever it express'd,
He ask'd the meaning of this holiday.

The vinous Greek, to whom he had address'd
His question, much too merry to divine
The questioner, fill'd up a glass of wine,

XLIII.

And, without turning his facetious head,
Over his shoulder, with a Bacchant air,
Presented the o'erflowing cup, and said,
"Talking's dry work, I have no time to spare."
A second hiccup'd, "Our old master's dead;

You'd better ask our mistress who's his heir.' "Our mistress !" quoth a third, "Our mistress! -pooh!-

You mean our master-not the old, but new."

XLIV.

These rascals, being new comers, knew not whom

They thus address'd; and Lambro's visage fell;

And o'er his eye a momentary gloom

Pass'd; but he strove quite courteously to quell

The expression, and, endeavouring to resume
His smile, requested one of them to tell
The name and quality of his new patron,
Who seem'd to have turn'd Haidée into a matron.

XLV.

"I know not," quoth the fellow, "who or what He is, nor whence he came-and little care; But this I know, that this roast capon's fat, And that good wine ne'er wash'd down better fare:

And if you are not satisfied with that,

Direct your questions to my neighbour there;
He'll answer all for better or for worse,
For none likes more to hear himself converse.
XLVI.

I said that Lambro was a man of patience,
And certainly he show'd the best of breeding,
Which scarce even France, the paragon of

nations

E'er saw her most polite of sons exceeding.