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And first, in the o’erflowing of her heart,

Which really knew or thought it knew no guile, She call’d her husband now and then apart,

And bade him counsel Juan. With a smile
Lord Henry heard her plans of artless art

To wean Don Juan from the siren's wile
And answer’d, like a statesman or a prophet,
In such guise that she could make nothing of it.

Firstly, he said, 66 he never interfered

In any body's business but the king's :” Next, that “ he never judged from what appear’d,

Without strong reason, of those sorts of things : Thirdly, that “ Juan had more brain than beard,

And was not to be held in leading-strings :" And fourthly, what need hardly be said twice, ".. That good but rarely came from good advice."

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And, therefore, doubtless to approve the truth

Of the last axiom, he advised his spouse
To leave the parties to themselves, forsooth,

At least as far as bienseance allows :
That time would temper Juan's faults of youth ;

That young men rarely made monastic vows ;
That opposition only more attaches-
But here a messenger brought in dispatches :

And being of the council calld“ the privy,”

Lord Henry walk'd into his cabinet,
To furnish matter for some future Livy

To tell how he reduced the nation's debt; And if their full contents I do not give ye,

It is because I do not know them yet, But I shall add them in a brief appendix, To come between mine epic and its index.

But ere he went, he added a slight hint,

Another gentle common-place or two,
Such as are coin'd in conversation's inint,

pass, for want of better, though not new; Then broke his packet, to see what was in 't,

And having casually glanced it through, Retired; and, as he went out, calmly kiss'd her, Less like a young wife than an aged sister.

He was a cold, good, honourable man,

Proud of his birth, and proud of every thing ;
A goodly spirit for a state diyan,

A figure fit to walk before a king;
Tall, stately, form’d to lead the courtly van

On birth-days, glorious with a star and string ;
The very model of a chamberlain-
And such I mean to make him when I reign..

But there was something wanting on the whole-

I don't know what, and therefore cannot tell-
Which pretty women—the sweet souls !-call soul,

Certes it was not body; he was well Proportion'd, as a poplar or a pole, :

A handsome man, that human miracle ; And in each circumstance of love or war Had still preserved his perpendicular.

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Still there was something wanting, as I 've said

That undefinable je ne sais quoi,
Which, for what I know, may of yore have led

To Homer's Iliad, since it drew to Troy
The Greek Eve, Helen, from the Spartan's bed;

Though on the whole, no doubt, the Dardan boy
Was much inferior to King Menelaus ;-
But thus it is some women will betray us,

There is an awkward thing which much perplexes,

Unless like wise Tiresias we had proved
By turns the difference of the several sexes ;

Neither can show quite how they would be loved : The sensual for a short time but connects us

The sentimental boasts to be unmoved ; But both together form a kind of centaur, Upon whose back 't is better not to venture,

A something all-sufficient for the heart

Is that for which the sex are always seeking;
But how to fill up that same vacant part?

There lies the rub—and this they are but weak in. Frail mariners afloat without a chart,

They run before the wind through high seas breaking ; And when they 've made the shore through every shock, T is odd, or odds, it may turn out a rock.


There is a flower call'd “ love in idleness”

For which see Shakspeare's ever-blooming garden ;I will not make his great description less,

And beg his British godship's humble pardon,
If, in my extremity of rhyme's distress,

I touch a single leaf where he is warden;
But though the flower is different, with the French
Or Swiss Rousseau, cry, voilà la pervenche !

LXXVI. Eureka! I have found it! What I mean

To say is, not that love is idleness, But that in love such idleness has been

An accessary, as I have cause to guess. Hard labour 's an indifferent go-between ;

Your men of business are not apt to express Much passion, since the inerchant-ship, the Argo, Convey'd Medea as her supercargo.


Beatus ille procul from negotiis,

Saith Horace; the great little poet 's wrong ; His other maxim, Noscitur a sociis,

Is much more to the purpose of his song ;
Though even that were sometimes too ferocious,

Unless good company he kept too long;
But, in his teeth, whate'er their state or station,
Thrice happy they who have an occupation !

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Adam exchanged his paradise for ploughing ;

Eve made up millinery with ig-leaves-
The earliest knowledge from the tree so knowing,

As far as I know, that the church receives :
And since that time, it need not cost much showing,

That many of the ills o'er which man grieves, And still more woman, spring from not employing Some hours to make the remnant worth enjoying,

And hence high life is oft a dreary void,

A rack of pleasures, where we must invent
A something wherewithal to be annoy'd.

Bards may sing what they please about content ;
Contented, when translated, means but cloy’d;

And hence arise the woes of sentiment,
Blue devils, and blue-stockings, and romances
Reduced to practice, and perform'd like dances,

LXXX. I do declare, upon an affidavit,

Romances I ne'er read like those I've seen; Nor, if unto the world I ever gave it,

Would some believe that such a tale had been :
But such intent I never had, nor have it;

Some truths are better kept behind a screen,
Especially when they would look like lies;
I therefore deal in generalities.

LXXXI. An oyster may be cross'd in love,”—and why?

Because he mopeth idly in his shell, And heaves a lonely subterraqueous sigh,

Much as a monk may do within his cell:
And à propos of monks, their piety

With sloth hath found it difficult to dwell ;
Those vegetables of the catholic creed
Are apt exceedingly to run to seed.

Oh, Wilberforce ! thou man of black renown,

Whose merit none enough can sing or say,
Thou hast struck one immense colossus down,

Thou moral Washington of Africa ! But there 's another little thing, I own, Which

you should perpetrate some summer's day, And set the other half of earth to rights : You have freed the blacks-now pray shut up the whites.

LXXXIII. Shut up the bald-coot bully Alexander ;

Ship off the holy three to Senegal ; Teach them that " sauce for goose is sauce for gander,”

And ask them how they like to be in thrall.

up each high heroic salamander,
Who eats fire gratis (since the pay 's but small);
Shut up-no, not the king, but the pavilion,
Or else 't will cost us all another million.




the world at large ; let Bedlam out, And you will be perhaps surprised to find All things pursue exactly the same route,

As now with those of soi-disant sound mind.
This I could prove beyond a single doubt,

Were there a jot of sense among mankind ;
But till that point d'appui is found, alas !
Like Archimedes, I leave earth as it was.

LXXXV. Our gentle Adeline had one defect

Her heart was vacant, though a splendid mansion ; Her conduct had been perfectly correct,

As she had seen nought claiming its expansion. A wavering spirit may be easier wreck'd,

Because 't is frailer, doubtless, than a stanch one ; But when the latter works its own undoing, Its inner crash is like an earthquake's ruin.

She loved her lord, or thought so ; but that love

Cost her an effort, which is a sad toil,
The stone of Sysiphus, if once we move

Our feelings 'gainst the nature of the soil. She had nothing to complain of, or reprove,

No bickerings, no connubial turmoil : Their union was a model to behold, Serene and noble,-conjugal, but cold.

LXXXVII. There was no great disparity of years,

Though much in temper ; but they never clash'd : They moved like stars united in their spheres,

Or like the Rhone by Leman's waters wash’d, Where mingled and yet separate appears

The river from the lake, all bluely dash'd
Through the serene and placid glassy deep,
Which fain would lull its river-child to sleep.

Now, when she once had ta'en an interest

In any thing, however she might flatter
Herself that her intentions were the best,

Intense intentions are a dangerous matter : Impressions were much stronger than she guess’d,

And gather'd as they run, like growing water, Upon her mind; the more so, as her breast was not at first too readily impress'd.

But when it was, she had that lurking demon

Of double nature, and thus doubly named-
Firmness yclept in heroes, kings, and seamen,

That is, when they succeed ; but greatly blamed As obstinacy, both in men and women,

Whene'er their triumph pales, or star is tamed: And 't will perplex the casuists in morality, To fix the due bounds of this dangerous quality.

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