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Lay at her heart, whose earliest beat still true

Brought back the sense of pain without the cause,

For, for a while, the furies made a pause.

63 She look'd on many a face with vacant eye, On many a token without knowing what; She saw them watch her without asking why,

64

New thoughts of life, for it seem'd full of 65

soul

She had so much, earth could not claim the whole

61 The ruling passion, such as marble shows When exquisitely chisell 'd, still lay there, But fix'd as marble's unchanged aspect throws

O'er the fair Venus, but forever fair;
O'er the Laocoön's all eternal throes,

And ever-dying Gladiator's air,1
Their energy like life forms all their fame,
Yet looks not life, for they are still the

same.

62 She woke at length, but not as sleepers
wake,

Rather the dead, for life seem'd soine-
thing new,

A strange sensation which she must par-
take

Perforce, since whatsoever met her view Struck not on memory, though a heavy ache

1 See Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, 4, 140 (p. 546).

And reck'd not who around her pillow

sat;

Not speechless, though she spoke not; not a sigh

Relieved her thoughts; dull silence and quick chat

Were tried in vain by those who served; she gave

No sign, save breath, of having left the grave.

Her handmaids tended, but she heeded not; Her father watch'd, she turn'd her eyes away;

She recognized no being, and no spot,

However dear or cherish'd in their day; They changed from room to room-but all forgot

Gentle, but without memory she lay; At length those eyes, which they would fain be weaning

Back to old thoughts, wax'd full of fearful
meaning.

And then a slave bethought her of a harp;
The harper came, and tuned his instru-

ment;

At the first notes, irregular and sharp,

On him her flashing eyes a moment bent,
Then to the wall she turn'd as if to warp
Her thoughts from sorrow through her
heart re-sent;

And he began a long low island song
Of ancient days, ere tyranny grew strong.1

66 Anon her thin wan fingers beat the wall

In time to his old tune; he changed the 'theme,

And sung of love; the fierce name struck through all

Her recollection; on her flash'd the
dream

Of what she was, and is, if ye coukl call
To be so being; in a gushing stream
The tears rush'd forth from her o'er-
clouded brain,

Like mountain mists at length dissolved in
rain.

1 Cf. David's playing before Saul, 1 Samuel, 16:16-23. See also Browning's Saul.

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54 However, he did pretty well, and was
Admitted as an aspirant to all
The coteries, and, as in Banquo's glass,1
At great assemblies or in parties small,
He saw ten thousand living authors pass,

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That being about their average numeral;
Also the eighty "greatest living poets,'
As every paltry magazine can show its.

55 In twice five years the "greatest living 59
99
poet,

Like to the champion in the fisty ring,
Is call'd on to support his claim, or show
it,

Although 'tis an imaginary thing.
Even I-albeit I'm sure I did not know it,
Nor sought of foolscap subjects to be
king-

Was reckon'd, a considerable time,
The grand Napoleon of the realms of
rhyme.

56 But Juan was my Moscow, and Faliero
My Leipsic, and my Mont Saint Jean
seems Cain:2

"La Belle Alliance's of dunces down at

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Campbell

60

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Before and after: but now grown more 61 The list grows long of live and dead pre

holy,

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tenders

To that which none will gain-or none

will know

1 Milman recently had been appointed Professor of Poetry at Oxford.

2 The shouting soldiers in Croly's Cataline, V. 2. Croly is Powley of st. 57.

3 Bryan Waller Procter (Barry Cornwall), who had been said by Jeffrey, in The Edinburgh Review, Jan., 1820 (Vol. 33, p. 153), to possess the better qualities of Byron-elegance, delicacy, and tenderness-without the profligacy, horror, mocking of virtue and of honor, and mixture of buffoonery and gran

deur.

The Bootians were proverbial for dullness.
Landor had recently published a volume of
Latin poems as the work of Savagius Landor.
Savage was his middle name..

A reference to the article on Endymion In The Quarterly Review, April, 1818 (Vol. 19, pp. 204-08). See Byron's Who Kill'd John Keats (p. 613) and Shelley's Preface to Adonais (see Critical Note on Shelley's Adonais) and 11 stanzas 36-37 (p. 735). The article referred to was written by J. W. Croker (p. 913), but it did not kill Keats. See Keats's letter to George and Georgana Keats, October, 1818 (p. 864).

See Horace's Satires, II, 2, 79.94kER.

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Indeed I've not the necessary bile; My natural temper's really aught but stern,

And even my Muse's worst reproof's a smile;

And then she drops a brief and modern curtsy,

And glides away, assured she never hurts ye.

64 My Juan, whom I left in deadly peril Amongst live poets and blue ladies,5 pass'd

With some small profit through that field so sterile,

1 For an account of the body of pretenders to the Roman Empire, in the 3rd century, popularly called "The Thirty Tyrants," see Gib bon's The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, ch. 10.

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The prætorian cohorts, a body of troops sta- 68 tioned just outside the walls of Rome and acting as a special guard of the Emperor. At times they controlled the selection of Emperor. See Gibbon's History, ch, 5.1 King Lear, IV, 6, 15.

A former body of Turkish infantry constituting the Sultan's guard and the main part of the standing army. Before it was abolished in 1826, it became very powerful and turbulent. * Literary pedants. See p. 585b, n. 1.

Then glare the lamps, then whirl the

wheels, then roar

Through street and square fast flashing chariots hurl'd

Like harness'd meteors; then along the floor

Chalk mimics painting; then festoons are twirl'd;

Then roll the brazen thunders of the

door,

Which opens to the thousand happy few An earthly Paradise of "Or Molu."2 There stands the noble hostess, nor shall sink

With the three-thousandth curtsy; there

the waltz,

The only dance which teaches girls to think, 1 In Moore's "phrase," a bower is a secret place for two.

2 Gilded Bronze.

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And watch, and ward;1 whose plans a word too much

Or little overturns; and not the few Or many (for the number's sometimes such)

Whom a good mien, especially if new, Or fame, or name, for wit, war, sense, or nonsense,

Permits whate'er they please, or did not long since.

Our hero, as a hero, young and handsome, Noble, rich, celebrated, and a stranger, Like other slaves of course must pay his ransom,

Before he can escape from so much danger

As will environ a conspicuous man. Some Talk about poetry, and "raek and man

ger,

112

And ugliness, disease, as toil and trouble;I wish they knew the life of a young noble.

86 But "carpe diem,'

87

carpe!"

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Juan, "carpe,

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A moral country? But I hold my hand

For I disdain to write an Atalantis;

But 'tis well at once to understand You are not a moral people, and you know it

Without the aid of too sincere a poet. 88 What Juan saw and underwent shall be My topic, with of course the due restriction

Which is required by proper courtesy;
And recollect the work is only fiction,

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