CX. Baba, who knew by experience when to talk At length she rose up, and began to walk And her brow clear'd, but not her troubled eye- CXI. She stopp'd, and raised her head to speak-but paused, Then slacken'd it, which is the march most caused A feeling in each footstep, as disclosed By Sallust in his Catiline, who, chased By all the demons of all passions, show'd CXII. "Slave! Gulbeyaz stopp'd and beckon'd Baba :- And yet he shudder'd, and seem'd rather prone CXIII. "The Georgian and her paramour," replied The imperial bride-and added, "Let the boat Be ready by the secret portal's side: You know the rest." The words stuck in her throat, Despite her injured love and fiery pride; And of this Baba willingly took note, And begg'd, by every hair of Mahomet's beard, CXIV. "To hear is to obey," he said; "but still, Sultana, think upon the consequence : It is not that I shall not all fulfil Your orders, even in their severest sense; But such precipitation may end ill, Even at your own imperative expense; I do not mean destruction and exposure In case of any premature disclosure; CXV. "But your own feelings.-Even should all the rest Be hidden by the rolling waves, which hide Already many a once love-beaten breast Deep in the caverns of the deadly tide- CXVI. "What dost thou know of love or feeling?—wretch! Begone! she cried, with kindling eyes, " and do My bidding!" Baba vanish'd; for to stretch His own remonstrance further, he well knew, Might end in acting as his own "Jack Ketch;" And, though he wish'd extremely to get through This awkward business without harm to others, He still preferr'd his own neck to another's. CXVII. Away he went then upon his commission, Growling and grumbling in good Turkish phrase Against all women, of whate'er condition, Especially sultanas and their ways; Their obstinacy, pride, and indecision, Their never knowing their own mind two days, The trouble that they gave, their immorality, Which made him daily bless his own neutrality. CXVIII. And then he call'd his brethren to his aid, CXIX. And here I leave them at their preparation Or got rid of the parties altogether, Are things the turning of a hair or feather May settle; but far be 't from me to anticipate In what way feminine caprice may dissipate. CXX. I leave them for the present, with good wishes, Though doubts of their well doing, to arrange Another part of history; for the dishes Of this our banquet we must sometimes change: And, trusting Juan may escape the fishes, Although his situation now seems strange And scarce secure, as such digressions are fair, The Muse will take a little touch at warfare. NOTE TO CANTO VI. Stanza Ixxv. A "wood obscure," like that where Dante found. Nel mezzo del Cammin' di nostra vita Mi ritrovai per una Selva oscura, &c., &c., &c. OH Love! oh Glory! what are ye? who fly There's not a meteor in the polar sky Of such transcendent and more fleeting flight. Chill, and chain'd to cold earth, we lift on high Our eyes in search of either lovely light; A thousand and a thousand colours they Assume, then leave us on our freezing way. And such as they are, such my present tale is, A non-descript and ever-varying rhyme, A versified aurora borealis, Which flashes o'er a waste and icy clime. When we know what all are, we must bewail us, But ne'ertheless I hope it is no crime To laugh at all things; for I wish to know III. They accuse me-me-the present writer of The present poem, of-I know not what,A tendency to under-rate and scoff At human power and virtue, and all that; And this they say in language rather rough. Good God! I wonder what they would be at? I say no more than has been said in Dante's Verse, and by Solomon, and by Cervantes; IV. By Swift, Machiavel, and Larochefoucault ; Who knew this life was not worth a potato. |