And thus, like to an angel o'er the dying Who die in righteousness, she lean'd; and there All tranquilly the shipwreck'd boy was lying, As o'er him lay the calm and stirless air: But Zoe the meantime some eggs was frying, Since, after all, no doubt the youthful pair CXLVII. For still he lay, and on his thin worn cheek CXLVIII. And she bent o'er him, and he lay beneath, Hush'd as the babe upon its mother's breast, Droop'd as the willow when no winds can breathe, Lull'd like the depth of ocean when at rest, Fair as the crowning rose of the whole wreath, Soft as the callow cygnet in its nest; In short he was a very pretty fellow, CXLIX. He woke and gazed, and would have slept again, But the fair face which met his eyes, forbade Those eyes to close, though weariness and pain Had further sleep a further pleasure made; For woman's face was never form'd in vain For Juan, so that even when he pray'd, He turn'd from grisly saints, and martyrs hairy, To the sweet portraits of the Virgin Mary. CL. And thus upon his elbow he arose, And look'd upon the lady in whose cheek The pale contented with the purple rose, As with an effort she began to speak; Her eyes were eloquent, her words would pose, Although she told him, in good modern Greek, With an Ionian accent, low and sweet, That he was faint, and must not talk, but eat. CLI. Now Juan could not understand a word, Being no Grecian; but he had an ear, And her voice was the warble of a bird, So soft, so sweet, so delicately clear, That finer, simpler music ne'er was heard; The sort of sound we echo with a tear, Must breakfast, and betimes-lest they should ask it, Without knowing why-an overpowering tone, She drew out her provision from the basket. CXLV. She knew that the best feelings must have victual, And that a shipwreck'd youth would hungry be; Besides, being less in love, she yawn'd a little, And felt her veins chill'd by the neighboring sea; And so, she cook'd their breakfast to a tittle; I can't say that she gave them any tea, But there were eggs, fruit, coffee, bread, fish, honey, With Scio wine-and all for love, not money. CXLVI. And Zoe, when the eggs were ready, and The coffee made, would fain have waken'd Juan; And, the first breakfast spoil'd, prepared a new one, Whence melody descends, as from a throne. CLII And Juan gazed, as one who is awoke By a distant organ, doubting if he be Not yet a dreamer, till the spell is broke By the watchman, or some such reality, At least it is a heavy sound to me, CLIII. Of the new fire which Zoe kept up, kneeling To stir her viands, made him quite awake And long for food, but chiefly a beef-steak CLIV. But beef is rare within these oxless isles; A joint upon their barbarous spits they put on: For some of these are rocks with scarce a hut on, CLV. I say that beef is rare, and can't help thinking CLVI. For we all know that English people are From this my subject, has no business here:- A pleasure-like all pleasures-rather dear; CLVII. But to resume. The languid Juan raised As all his latter meals had been quite raw, He fell upon whate'er was offer'd, like CLVIII. He ate, and he was well supplied; and she, Knew (by tradition, for she ne'er had read) CLIX. And so she took the liberty to state, Rather by deeds than words, because the case Had made her mistress quit her bed to trace CLAI. And then fair Haidee tried her tongue at speaking Her speech out to her protégé and friend, CLXII. And then she had recourse to nods, and signs, And now, by dint of fingers and of eyes, Turns oftener to the stars than to his book, CLXIV. 'Tis pleasing to be school'd in a strange tongue They smile so when one's right, and when one's wrong They smile still more, and then there intervene Pressure of hands, perhaps even a chaste kiss;I learn'd the little that I know by this: CLXV. That is, some words of Spanish, Turk, or Greek, I hate your poets, so read none of those. CLXVI. As for the ladies, I have nought to say, A wanderer from the British world of fashion, Where I, like other "dogs, have had my day," Like other men, too, may have had my passionBut that, like other things, has pass'd away: And all her fools whom I could lay the lash on, Foes, friends, men, women, now are nought to me Saying, he had gorged enough to make a horse ill. But dreams of what has been, no more to be. CLX. Next they-he being naked, save a tatter'd Pair of scarce decent trousers-went to work, CLXVII. Return we to Don Juan. He begun To hear new words, and to repeat them; but Some feelings, universal as the sun, Were such as could not in his breast be shut He was in love-as you would be, no doubt, CLXVIII. And every day by daybreak-rather early For Juan, who was somewhat fond of rest- To see her bird reposing in his nest; Without disturbing her yet slumbering guest, CLXIX. And every morn his color freshlier came, Are oil and gunpowder; and some good lessons CLXX. While Venus fills the heart, (without heart really For love must be sustain'd like flesh and blood. While Bacchus pours out wine, or hands a jelly: Eggs, oysters too, are amatory food; But who is their purveyors from above CLXXV. Then came her freedom, for she had no mother, I speak of Christian lands in this comparison, CLXXVI. Now she prolong'd her visits and her talk, For little had he wander'd since the day CLXXVII. It was a wild and breaker-beaten coast, With cliffs above, and a broad sandy shore, And rarely ceased the haughty billows' roar, Heaven knows,-it may be Neptune, Pan, or Jove. The outstretch'd ocean glitter like a lake. CLXXI. When Juan woke, he found some good things ready, A bath, a breakfast, and the finest eyes That ever made a youthful heart less steady, Besides her maid's, as pretty for their size; But I have spoken of all this already And repetition's tiresome and unwise.Well-Juan, after bathing in the sea, Came always back to coffee and Haidee. CLXXII. Both were so young, and one so innocent, Of whom these two years she had nightly dream'd, To be her happiness, and whom she deem'd To render happy; all who joy would win Must share it,-happiness was born a twin. CLXXIII. It was such pleasure to behold him, such But then the thought of parting made her quake: CLXXIV. And thus a moon roll'd on, and fair Haidee For certain merchantmen upon the look, But three Ragusan vessels, bound for Scio. CLXXVIII. And the small ripple spilt upon the beach Scarcely o'erpass'd the cream of your champagne, When o'er the brim the sparkling bumpers reach, That springdew of the spirit! the heart's rain! Few things surpass old wine; and they may preach Who please, the more because they preach in vain, Let us have wine and women, mirth and laughter, CLXXIX. Man, being reasonable, must get drunk ; Ring for your valet-bid him quickly bring CLXXXI. The coast-I think it was the coast that I The sands untumbled, the blue waves untoss'd And dolphin's leap, and little billow cross'd By some low rock or shelve that made it fret 'Against the boundary it scarcely wet. CLXXXII. And forth they wander'd, her sire being gone, Thought daily service was her only mission, Bringing warm water, wreathing her iong tresses, And asking now and then for cast-off dresses. CLXXXIII. It was the cooling hour, just when the rounded Red sun sinks down behind the azure hill, And thus they wander'd forth, and hand in hand, And in the worn and wild receptacles CLXXXV. They look'd up to the sky, whose floating glow Whence the broad moon rose circling into sight; They heard the waves' splash, and the wind so low, And saw each other's dark eyes darting light CLXXXVI. A long, long kiss, a kiss of youth, and love, Such kisses as belong to early days, Where heart, and soul, and sense, in concert move, CLXXXVII. By length I mean duration; theirs endured reckon'd, And if they had, they could not have secured They had not spoken; but they felt allured, CLXXXIX. They fear'd no eyes nor ears on that lone beach, They felt no terrors from the night, they were All in all to each other: though their speech Was broken words, they thought a language there And all the burning tongues the passions teach, Found in one sigh the best interpreter Of nature's oracle-first love,-that all CXC. Haidee spoke not of scruples, ask'd no vows, Or perils by a loving maid incurr'd; CXCI. She loved, and was beloved-she adored, And she was worshipp'd; after nature's fashion, Their intense souls, into each other pour'd, If souls could die, had perish'd in that passion,→ But by degrees their seases were restored, Again to be o'ercome, again to dash on; And, beating 'gainst his bosom, Haidee's heart Felt as if never more to beat apart. CXCII. Alas! they were so young, so beautiful, So lonely, loving, helpless, and the hour Was that in which the heart is always full, Prompts deeds eternity cannot annul, But pays off moments in an endless shower Of hell-fire-all prepared for people giving Pleasure or pain to one another living. CXCIII. Alas! for Juan and Haidee! they were CXCIV. They look upon each other, and their eyes Gleam in the moonlight; and her white arm clasps Round Juan's head, and his around her lies Half buried in the tresses which it grasps; She sits upon his knee, and drinks his sighs, He hers, until they end in broken gasps; Which, being join'd, like swarming bees they clung-And thus they form a group that's quite antique, Their hearts the flowers from whence the honey Half naked, loving, natural, and Greek. CXCVI. An infant when it gazes on a light, A child the moment when it drains the breast, A devotee when soars the host in sight, An Arab with a stranger for a guest, A sailor, when the prize has struck in fight, CXCVII. For there it lies so tranquil, so beloved, And all unconscious of the joy 'tis giving, Hush'd into depths beyond the watcher's diving; There lies the thing we love with all its errors, And all its charms, like death without its terrors. CXCVIII. The lady watch'd her lover-and that hour CXCIX. Alas! the love of women! it is known To be a lovely and a fearful thing; For all of theirs upon that die is thrown, And if 'tis lost, life hath no more to bring To them bút mockeries of the past alone, And their revenge is as the tiger's spring, Deadly, and quick, and crushing: yet as real Torture is theirs-what they inflict they feel. CC. They're right; for man, to man so oft unjust, Buys them in ma riage-and what rests beyond ? ССІ. Some take a lover, some take drams or prayers, Theirs being an unnatural situation, CCII. Haidee was nature's bride, and knew not this; Haidee was passion's child, born where the sun Showers triple light, and scorches even the kiss Of his gazelle-eyed daughters; she was one Made but to love, to feel that she was his Who was her chosen: what was said or done Elsewhere was nothing-She had nought to fear, Hope, care, nor love beyond, her heart beat here. CCIII. And oh! that quickening of the heart, that beat! How much it costs us, yet each rising throb Is in its cause as its effect so sweet, That wisdom, ever on the watch to rob Joy of its alchymy, and to repeat Fine truths; even conscience, too, has a tough job To make us understand each good old maxim, So good-I wonder Castlereagh don't tax 'em. CCIV. And now 'twas done on the lone shore were plighted Their hearts; the stars, their nuptial torches, shed Beauty upon the beautiful they lighted: Ocean their witness, and the cave their bed, By their own feelings hallow'd and united, Their priest was solitude, and they were wed: And they were happy, for to their young eyes Each was an angel, and earth paradise. CCV. Oh love! of whom great Caesar was the suitor, Sappho the sage blue-stocking, in whose grave CCVI. Thou makest the chaste connubial state precarious, And jestest with the brows of mightiest men: Cæsar and Pompey, Mahomet, Belisarius, Have much employed the muse of history's pen; Their lives and fortunes were extremely various,Such worthies time will never see again :Yet to these four in three things the same luck holds, They all were heroes, conquerors, and cuckolds. CCVII. Thou makest philosophers: there's Epicurus If only from the devil they would insure us, How pleasant were the maxim, (not quite new,) "Eat, drink, and love, what can the rest avail us?" So said the royal sage, Sardanapalus. CCVIII. But Juan! had he quite forgotten Julia? And should he have forgotten her so soon? Else how the devil is it that fresh features CCIX. I hate inconstancy-I loathe, detest, Abhor, condemn, abjure the mortal made Of such quicksilver clay that in his breast, No permanent foundation can be laid; Love, constant love, has been my constant guest, And yet last night, being at a masquerade, I saw the prettiest creature, fresh from Milan, Which gave me some sensations like a villain |