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 spring-dew 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,
Sermons and soda-water the day after.

CLXXIX.

Man, being reasonable, must get drunk;
The best of life is but intoxication:
Glory, the grape, love, gold, in these are sunk
The hopes of all men, and of every nation;
Without their sap, how branchless were the trunk
Of life's strange tree, so fruitful on occasion!
Bat to return-Get very drunk; and when
You wake with head-ach, you shall see what then,
CLXXX.

Ring for your valet-bid him quickly bring
Some hock and soda-water, then you'll know
A pleasure worthy Xerxes the great king;

For not the blest sherbet, sublimed with snow,
Nor the first sparkle of the desert-spring,
Nor Burgundy in all its sunset glow,(1)
After long travel, ennui, love, or slaughter,
Vie with that draught of hock and soda-water,
CLXXXI.

The coast-I think it was the coast that I
Was just describing—Yes, it was the coast-
Lay at this period quiet as the sky,

The sands untumbled, the blue waves untoss'd;
And all was stillness, save the sea-bird's cry,
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,
As I have said, upon an expedition;
And mother, brother, guardian, she had none,
Save Zoë, who, although with due precision
She waited on her lady with the sun,

Thought daily service was her only mission, Bringing warm water, wreathing her long 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,
Which then seems as if the whole earth it bounded,
Circling all nature, hush'd, and dim, and still;
With the far mountain-crescent half surrounded
On one side, and the deep sea calm and chill
Upon the other, and the rosy sky,
With one star sparkling through it like an eye,

(1) In the MS.

"A pleasure naught but drunkenness can bring:
For not the blest sherbet all chill'd with snow,
Nor the full sparkle of the desert-spring.
Nor wine in all the purple of its glow."-L. E.

(2) In the MS.

-“I'm sure they never reckon'd; And being join'd-like swarming bees they clung, And mix'd until the very pleasure stung."

As if their souls and lips each other beckon❜d, Which, being join'd, like swarming bees they clung— Their hearts the flowers from whence the honey sprung.(2)

CLXXXVIII.
They were alone, but not alone as they

Who, shut in chambers, think it loneliness;
The silent ocean, and the starlight bay,

The twilight glow, which momently grew less,
The voiceless sands, and dropping caves, that lay
Around them, made them to each other press,
As if there were no life beneath the sky
Save theirs, and that their life could never die.

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, A miser filling his most hoarded chest, Feel rapture; but not such true joy are reaping As they who watch o'er what they love while sleeping.

CXCVII.

For there it lies so tranquil, so beloved,

All that it hath of life with us is living; So gentle, stirless, helpless, and unmoved,

And all unconscious of the joy 'tis giving; All it hath felt, inflicted, pass'd, and proved,

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

Of Love's, and Night's, and Ocean's solitude, O'erflow'd her soul with their united power;

Amidst the barren sand and rocks so rude She and her wave-worn love had made their bower, Where nought upon their passion could intrude, And all the stars that crowded the blue space Saw nothing happier than her glowing face.

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 but 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 are right; for man, to man so oft unjust,
Is always so to women; one sole bond
Awaits them, treachery is all their trust;
Taught to conceal, their bursting hearts despond
Over their idol, till some wealthier lust

Buys them in marriage-and what rests beyond?
A thankless husband, next a faithless lover;
Then dressing, nursing, praying, and all's over.

CCI.

Some take a lover, some take drams or prayers,
Some mind their household, others dissipation,
Some run away, and but exchange their cares,
Losing the advantage of a virtuous station;
Few changes e'er can better their affairs,

Theirs being an unnatural situation,
From the dull palace to the dirty hovel: (2)
Some play the devil, and then write a novel.(3)

fine eyes that have wept dangerous tears over the descrip tions of the Gulnares and Medoras cannot be the worse for seeing the true side of his picture." Blackwood.-L. E.

(3) Lady Caroline Lamb was supposed by Lord Byron t have alluded to him in her novel of Glenarvon, published in 1816.-L. E.

"Madame de Staël asked me if the picture was like me,

HAIL, Muse! et cetera.—We left Juan sleeping,
Pillow'd upon a fair and happy breast,
And watch'd by eyes that never yet knew weeping,
And loved by a young heart, too deeply blest

(1) "The Canto concludes with some ironical eulogies on constancy, its rarity, and its value, winding up with some caustic sarcasms; from the whole tenor of which we are led to conclude, that Lord Byron has no higher an opinion of men, nor of women, than that profane wit, who said, that when there were but two brothers on the earth, one of them killed the other; and that when Eve had only Adam

Elle aima mieux pour s'en faire conter,
Prester l'oreille aux fleurettes du diable,

Que d'estre femme et ne pas coqueter.'" Colton.-L. E.

(2) "You say that one-half is very good: you are wrong; for, if it were, it would be the finest poem in existence. Where is the poetry of which one-half is good? Is it the Eneid? is it Milton's? is it Dryden's? is it any one's except Pope's and Goldsmith's, of which all is good? and yet these two last are the poets your pond poets would explode. But if one-half of these two Cantos be good in your opinion, what the devil would you have more? No-no; no poetry is generally good-only by fits and starts- and you are lucky to get a sparkle here and there. You might as well want a midnight all stars, as rhyme all perfect." Lord B. to Mr. Murray.-L. E.

(3) Lord Byron began to compose Canto III. in October, 1819; but the outcry raised by the publication of Cantos I. and II. annoyed him so much, that he for a time laid the

To feel the poison through her spirit creeping,
Or know who rested there, a foe to rest,
Had soil'd the current of her sinless years,
And turn'd her pure heart's purest blood to tears!

II.

Oh, Love! what is it in this world of ours
Which makes it fatal to be loved? Ah why
With cypress branches hast thou wreathed thy bowers,
And made thy best interpreter a sigh?

As those who dote on odours pluck the flowers,

And place them on their breast-but place to dieThus the frail beings we would fondly cherish Are laid within our bosoms but to perish. (4)

III.

In her first passion woman loves her lover,
In all the others all she loves is love,
Which grows a habit she can ne'er get over,
And fits her loosely-like an easy glove,
As you may find, whene'er you like to prove her:
One man alone at first her heart can move;
She then prefers him in the plural number,
Not finding that the additions much encumber.

IV.

I know not if the fault be men's or theirs;
But one thing's pretty sure; a woman planted-
(Unless at once she plunge for life in prayers)—
After a decent time must be gallanted;
Although, no doubt, her first of love affairs

Is that to which her heart is wholly granted;
Yet there are some, they say, who have had no
But those who have ne'er end with only one. (3)
V.

"Tis melancholy, and a fearful sign

Of human frailty, folly, also crime,
That love and marriage rarely can combine,
Although they both are born in the same clime;
Marriage from love, like vinegar from wine-

A sad, sour, sober beverage-by time
Is sharpen'd from its high celestial flavour,
Down to a very homely household savour.

work aside, and afterwards proceeded in it only by fits and starts. Mr. Moore, who visited him while Canto III. was in progress, says-" So sensitive, indeed,-in addition to hit usual abundance of this quality,-did he, at length, grow on the subject, that when Mr. W: Bankes, who succeedel me as his visiter, happened to tell him, one day, that he had heard a Mr. Saunders (or some such name), then resident st Venice, declare that, in his opinion, 'Don Juan was all Grab street,' such an effect had this disparaging speech upon bit mind (though coming from a person who, as he himse would have it, was nothing but a d-d salt-fish seller that, for some time after, by his own confession to Mr. Banks, he could not bring himself to write another line of the poem. and one morning, opening a drawer where the neglected manuscript lay, he said to his friend, Look here- this is al Mr. Saunders's Grub-street.'"-Cantos III. IV. and V. wen published together in August, 1821,-still without the nam either of author or bookseller.-L. E.

(4) "This, we must allow, is pretty enough, and not at all objectionable in a moral point of view. We fear, bowere that we cannot say as much for what follows: marrying i no joke, and therefore not a fit subject to joke about; besides for a married man to be merry on that score, is very li trying to overcome the tooth-ach by a laugh." Hogg.-LE (5) These two lines are a versification of a saying " Montaigne.-L. E.

VI.

There's something of antipathy, as 't were,
Between their present and their future state;
A kind of flattery that's hardly fair

Is used until the truth arrives too late-
Yet what can people do, except despair?

The same things change their names at such a rate; For instance-passion in a lover's glorious, But in a husband is pronounced uxorious.

VII.

Men grow ashamed of being so very fond;
They sometimes also get a little tired

(But that, of course, is rare), and then despond: The same things cannot always be admired; Yet 't is so nominated in the bond,"

That both are tied till one shall have expired. Sad thought! to lose the spouse that was adorning Our days, and put one's servants into mourning.

VIII.

There's doubtless something in domestic doings
Which forms, in fact, true love's antithesis;
Romances paint at full length people's wooings,
But only give a bust of marriages;
For no one cares for matrimonial cooings,

There's nothing wrong in a connubial kiss:
Think you, if Laura had been Petrarch's wife,
He would have written sonnets all his life? (1)
IX.

All tragedies are finish'd by a death,

All comedies are ended by a marriage; The future states of both are left to faith,

For authors fear description might disparage The worlds to come of both or fall beneath, [riage; And then both worlds would punish their miscarSo leaving each their priest and prayer-book ready, They say no more of Death or of the Lady. (2)

XII.

Haidée and Juan were not married, but

The fault was theirs, not mine; it is not fair, Chaste reader, then, in any way to put

The blame on me, unless you wish they were; Then if you'd have them wedded, please to shut The book which treats of this erroneous pair, Before the consequences grow too awful; "Tis dangerous to read of loves unlawful.

XIII.

Yet they were happy,-happy in the illicit
Indulgence of their innocent desires;
But, more imprudent grown with every visit,
Haidée forgot the island was her sire's;
When we have what we like, 'tis hard to miss it,
At least in the beginning, ere one tires;
Thus she came often, not a moment losing,
Whilst her piratical papa was cruising.

XIV.

Let not his mode of raising cash seem strange, Although he fleeced the flags of every nation, For into a prime minister but change

His title, and 'tis nothing but taxation; But he, more modest, took a humbler range Of life, and in an honester vocation Pursued o'er the high seas his watery journey, (7) And merely practised as a sea-attorney.

XV.

The good old gentleman had been detain'd

By winds and waves, and some important captures; And, in the hope of more, at sea remain'd,

Although a squall or two had damp'd his raptures, By swamping one of the prizes; he had chain'd His prisoners, dividing them like chapters In number'd lots; they all had cuffs and collars, And averaged each from ten to a hundred dollars. XVI.

Some he disposed of off Cape Matapan,

Among his friends the Mainotes; some he sold
To his Tunis correspondents, save one man

Toss'd overboard unsaleable (being old);
The rest-save here and there some richer one,
Reserved for future ransom in the hold-
Were link'd alike, as for the common people he
Had a large order from the Dey of Tripoli.

XVII.

The merchandise was served in the same way,
Pieced out for different marts in the Levant;
Except some certain portions of the prey,
Light classic articles of female want,
French stuffs, lace, tweezers, toothpicks, teapot, tray,
Guitars and castanets from Alicant;
All which selected from the spoil he gathers,
Robb'd for his daughter by the best of fathers.

cidence is no less striking than saddening, that, on the list of married poets who have been unhappy in their homes, there should already be found four such illustrious names as Dante, Milton, Shakspeare, and Dryden; and that we should now have to add, as a partner in their destiny, a name worthy of being placed beside the greatest of them." Moore.-L. E. (6) "Lady B. would have made an excellent wrangler at Cambridge." B. Diary.-L. E.