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XXV. “But after all, what is our present state?
’T is þad, and may be better -all men's lot. Most men are slaves, none more so than the great,
To their own whims and passions, and what not ;
Kindness, destroys what little we had got:
Of the third sex stepp'd up, and peering over
And capabilities, as to discover
No lady e'er is ogled by a lover,
’T is pleasant purchasing our fellow-creatures ; And all are to be sold, if you consider
Their passions, and are dextrous ; some by features
Some by a place—as tend their years or natures ;
Turn’d to the merchant, and began to bid
They haggled, wrangled, swore, too—so they did ! As though they were in a mere christian fair,
Cheapening an ox, an ass, a lamb, or kid ; So that their bargain sounded like a battle For this superior yoke of human cattle.
And pulling out reluctant purses, and
Some down, and weighing others in their hand,
Until the sum was accurately scann’d,
Or if it were, if also his digestion.
And conscience ask a curious sort of question,
Sell flesh and blood. When dinner has oppress'd one, I think it is perhaps the gloomiest hour Which turns up out of the sad twenty-four.
XXXI. Voltaire says, “ No:” he tells
Repletion rather adds to what he feels ;
From his own brain's oppression while it reels. .
XXXII. I think with Alexander, that the act
Of eating, with another act or two,
Redoubled ; when a roast and a ragout,
either pain or pleasure, who Would pique himself on intellects, whose use Depends so much upon the gastric juice?
This is a fact, and no poetic fable-
My hat and gloves still lying on the table,
And running out as fast as I was able, 3
They'd slain him with five slugs; and left him there To perish on the pavement : so I had
Him borne into the house and up the stair,
More circumstances? vain was every care ;
And, though I have seen many corpses, never
So calm ; though pierced through stomach, heart, and liver, He seem'd to sleep, for you could scarcely tell
(As he bled inwardly, no hideous river Of gore divulged the cause) that he was dead : So as I gazed on him, I thought or said
XXXVI. 66 Can this be death? then what is life or death?
• Speak !' but he spoke not : 'wake!' but still he slept : But yesterday and who had mightier breath?
A thousand warriors by his word were kept In awe : he said, as the centurion saith,
• Go,' and he goeth ; ' come,' and forth he stepp'd. The trump and bugle till he spake were dumbAnd now nought left him but the muffled drum."
With their rough faces throng'd about the bed,
Which for the last though not the first time bled : And such an end! that he who many a day
Had faced Napoleon's foes until they fled,
Those honourable scars which brought him fame;
But let me quit the theme, as such things claim
From me: I gazed (as oft I have gazed the same)
And there we go :—but where ? five bits of lead,
And air-earth-water-fire live—and we dead ? We, whose minds comprehend all things? No more ; But let us to the story as before.
Bore off his bargains to a gilded boat,
As fast as oars could pull and water float.
Wondering what next, till the caique was brought
Of a small iron door, 't was open'd, and
Flank'd by large groves which tower'd on either hand : They almost lost their way, and had to pick it
For night was closing ere they came to land. The eunuch made a sign to those on board, Who row'd off, leaving them without a word.
Through orange bowers, and jasmine, and so forth (Of which I might have a good deal to say,
There being no such profusion in the North Of oriental plants, “et cætera,”
But that of late your scribblers think it worth Their while to rear whole hotbeds in their works, Because one poet travell’d ’mongst the Turks) :
Into Don Juan's head a thought, which he
Which might have then occurr’d to you or me. “Methinks,” said hem" it would be no great shame
If we should strike a stroke to set us free;
XLIV. “Yes,” said the other, " and when done, what then?
How get out ? how the devil got we in ? And when we once were fairly out, and when
From Saint Bartholomew we have saved our skin, To-morrow 'd see us in some other den,
And worse off than we hitherto have been ; Besides, I'm hungry, and just now would take, Like Esau, for my birthright a beef-steak.
XLV. “We must be near some place of man's abode;
For the old negro's confidence in creeping, With his two captives, by so queer a road,
Shows that he thinks his friends have not been sleeping ; A single cry would bring them all abroad :
’T is therefore better looking before leapingAnd there, you see, this turn has brought us through. By Jove, a noble palace !-lighted too."
Which open'd on their view, and o'er the front
And various hues, as is the Turkish wont,-
The arts of which these lands were once the font :
Of certain stews, and roast-meats, and pilaus,
upon his good behaviour :
Some to men's feelings, others to their reason :
For reason thinks all reasoning out of season. Some speakers whine, and others lay the lash on, But more
less continue still to tease on, With arguments according to their “ forte ;" But no one ever dreams of being short.
I grant the power of pathos, and of gold,
Method 's more sure at moments to take hold of the best feelings of mankind, which grow
More tender, as we every day behold,