XLII. As they were plodding on their winding way, Through orange bowers, and jasmine, and so forth (Of which I might have a good deal to say, There being no such profusion in the North Of oriental plants, «< et cetera,>> But that of late your scribblers think it worth Their while to rear whole hotbeds in their works, Because one poet travell'd 'mongst the Turks): XLIII. As they were threading on their way, there came Into Don Juan's head a thought, which he Whisper'd to his companion ;-'t was the same Which might have then occurr'd to you or me. « Methinks,» said he-« it would be no great shame If we should strike a stroke to set us free; Let's knock that old black fellow on the head, And march away-'t were easier done than said.>> XLIV. «Yes,» said the other, «and when done, what then: How get out? how the devil got we in? And when we once were fairly out, and when From Saint Bartholomew we have saved our skin, To-morrow'd see us in some other den, And worse off than we hitherto have been; Besides, I'm hungry, and just now would take, Like Esau, for my birthright a beef-steak. XLV. « We must be near some place of man's abode; 'Tis therefore better looking before leapingAnd there, you see, this turn has brought us through. By Jove, a noble palace !-lighted too.>> XLVI. It was indeed a wide extensive building Which open'd on their view, and o'er the front There seem'd to be besprent a deal of gilding And various hues, as is the Turkish wont,A gaudy taste; for they are little skill'd in The arts of which these lands were once the font: Each villa on the Bosphorus looks a screen New painted, or a pretty opera-scene. XLVII. And nearer as they came, a genial savour Of certain stews, and roast-meats, and pilaus, Things which in hungry mortals' eyes find favour, Made Juan in his harsh intentions pause, And put himself upon his good behaviour: His friend, too, adding a new saving clause, Said, « In Heaven's name let 's get some supper now, And then I'm with you, if you 're for a row.»> XLVIII. Some talk of an appeal unto some passion, Some to men's feelings, others to their reason: The last of these was never much the fashion, For reason thinks all reasoning out of season. Some speakers whine, and others lay the lash on, But more or less continue still to teaze on, With arguments according to their << forte ;» But no one ever dreams of being short. XLIX. But I digress: of all appeals,-although I grant the power of pathos, and of gold, Of beauty, flattery, threats, a shilling,-no Method's more sure at moments to take hold Of the best feelings of mankind, which grow More tender, as we every day behold, Than that all-softening, over-powering knell, The tocsin of the soul-the dinner-bell. L. Turkey contains no bells, and yet men dine: Of lacqueys usher to the feast prepared, LI. And giving up all notions of resistance, They follow'd close behind their sable guide, Who little thought that his own crack'd existence Was on the point of being set aside: He motion'd them to stop at some small distance, LII I won't describe; description is my forte, f. vi. While nature, tortured twenty thousand ways, Along this hall, and up and down, some, squatted Others in monosyllable talk chatted, And some seem'd much in love with their own dress; And divers smoked superb pipes decorated With amber mouths of greater price or less; And several strutted, others slept, and some Prepared for supper with a glass of rum.5 LIV. As the black eunuch enter'd with his brace Just as one views a horse to guess his price; Some nodded to the negro from their station, But no one troubled him with conversation. LV. He leads them through the hall, and, without stopping, LVI. Some faint lamps gleaming from the lofty walls Two or three seem so little, one seems nothing: More modern buildings and those built of A neat, snug study on a winter's night, Of claret, sandwich, and an appetite, yore, Are things which make an English evening pass; Though certes by no means so grand a sight As is a theatre lit up by gas. I pass my evenings in long galleries solely, LIX. very Alas! man makes that great which makes him little: Babel was Nimrod's hunting-seat, and then A town of gardens, walls, and wealth amazing, Where Nabuchadonosor, king of men, Reign'd, till one summer's day he took to grazing, And Daniel tamed the lions in their den, The people's awe and admiration raising; "T was famous, too, for Thisbe and for Pyramus, And the calumniated Queen Semiramis, LXI. LXII. But to resume, should there be (what may not Of that same Babel, or because they won't LXIII. Yet let them think that Horace has express'd Of those, forgetting the great place of rest, And « Et sepulcri immemor struis domos» Shows that we build when we should but entomb us. LXIV. At last they reach'd a quarter most retired, Where echo woke as if from a long slumber: Though full of all things which could be desired, One wonder'd what to do with such a number Of articles which nobody required. Here wealth had done its utmost to encumber With furniture an exquisite apartment, Which puzzled nature much to know what art meant. LXV. It seem'd, however, but to open on A range or suite of further chambers, which Might lead to heaven knows where; but in this one The moveables were prodigally rich: Sofas 't was half a sin to sit upon, So costly were they; carpets every stitch LXVI. The black, however, without hardly deigning A certain press or cupboard, niched in yonder I wish to be perspicuous; and the black, any Mussulman, whate'er his worth; And of variety there was no lack And yet, though I have said there was no dearth, He chose himself to point out what he thought Most proper for the Christians he had bought. LXVIII. The suit he thought most suitable to each Was, for the elder and the stouter, first A Candiote cloak, which to the knee might reach, And trowsers not so tight that they would burst, But such as fit an Asiatic breech; A shawl, whose folds in Cashmire had been nurst, Slippers of saffron, dagger rich and handy; In short, all things which form a Turkish Dandy. LXIX. While he was dressing, Baba, their black friend, If they would but pursue the proper way LXXVII. And then he swore; and, sighing, on he slipp'd Which as we say-or as the Scotch say, whilk, Whilk, which (or what you please) was owing to His toilet, though no doubt a little backward: When some untoward part of raiment stuck hard; And, wrestling both his arms into a gown, He paused and took a survey up and down. LXXIX. « Cut off a thousand heads, before- »-« Now pray,» One difficulty still remain'd,—his hair Replied the other, « do not interrupt: You put me out in what I had to say. Sir!-as I said, as soon as I have supp'd, Baba eyed Juan, and said, « Be so good As dress yourself—» and pointed out a suit In which a princess with great pleasure would Array her limbs; but Juan standing mute, As not being in a masquerading mood, Gave it a slight kick with his christian foot; And when the old negro told him to « Get ready,» Replied, «Old gentleman, I'm not a lady.» LXXIV. <<What you may be, I neither know nor care,>> LXXV. << Then if I do,» said Juan, « I 'll be -»« Hold!» LXXVI. « I offer you a handsome suit of clothes: A woman's, true, but then there is a cause So Was hardly long enough; but Baba found many false long tresses all to spare, That soon his head was most completely crown'd, After the manner then in fashion there; And this addition with such gems was bound As suited the ensemble of his toilet, While Baba made him comb his head and oil it. LXXX. And now being femininely all array'd, With some small aid from scissars, paint, and tweezers, He look'd in almost all respects a maid, And Baba smilingly exclaim'd, « You see, sirs, A perfect transformation here display'd; LXXXI. «You, sir,» said Baba, nodding to the one, LXXXII. «You fool! I tell you no one means you harm.>> << So much the better,» Juan said, « for them: Else they shall feel the weight of this my arm, Which is not quite so light as you may deem. I yield thus far; but soon will break the charm, If any take me for that which I seem; So that I trust, for every body's sake, That this disguise may lead to no mistake.»> LXXXIII. «Blockhead! come on and see,» quoth Baba; while Don Juan, turning to his comrade, who, Why you should wear them.»-« What, though my Though somewhat grieved, could scarce forbear a smile soul loathes The effeminate garb?»-Thus after a short pause, Sigh'd Juan, muttering also some slight oaths, « What the devil shall I do with all this gauze ?» Thus he profanely term'd the finest lace Upon the metamorphosis in view. « Farewell!» they mutually exclaim'd: « this soil Seems fertile in adventures strange and new; One's turn'd half Mussulman, and one a maid, By this old black enchanter's unsought aid.»> LXXXIV. << Farewell!» said Juan; « should we meet no more, I wish you a good appetite.»-« Farewell!» Replied the other; « though it grieves me sore; When we next meet we 'll have a tale to tell: We needs must follow when Fate puts from shore.. Keep your good name; though Eve herself once fell. >> «Nay,»quoth the maid, «the Sultan's self shan't carry me, Unless his highness promises to marry me.» LXXXV. And thus they parted, each by separate doors; LXXXVI. The giant door was broad, and bright and high, Of gilded bronze, and carved in curious guise; Warriors thereon were battling furiously; Here stalks the victor, there the vanquish'd lies; There captives led in triumph droop the eye, And in perspective many a squadron flies: It seems the work of times before the line Of Rome transplanted fell with Constantine. LXXXVII. This massy portal stood at the wide close Until you nearly trod on them, and then, You started back in horror to survey The wondrous hideousness of those small men, Whose colour was not black, nor white, nor grey, But an extraneous mixture, which no pen Can trace, although perhaps the pencil may; They were mis-shapen pigmies, deaf and dumbMonsters, who cost a no less monstrous sum. LXXXIX. Their duty was--for they were strong, and though They look'd so little, did strong things at timesTo ope this door, which they could really do, The hinges being as smooth as Rogers' rhymes; And now and then, with tough strings of the bow, As is the custom of those eastern climes, To give some rebel Pacha a cravat; XC. They spoke by signs-that is, not spoke at all: And, looking like two incubi, they glared As Baba with his fingers made them fall To heaving back the portal folds: it scared Juan a moment, as this pair so small With shrinking serpent optics on him stared; It was as if their little looks could poison Or fascinate whome'er they fix'd their eyes on. XCI. « to stint Before they entered, Baba paused to hint To Juan some slight lessons as his guide: « If you could just contrive,» he said, That somewhat manly majesty of stride, 'T would be as well, and (though there 's not much in 't), To swing a little less from side to side, 'T would be convenient; for these mutes have eyes With this encouragement, he led the way A rich confusion form'd a disarray In such sort, that the eye along it cast Could hardly carry any thing away, Object on object flash'd so bright and fast; A dazzling mass of gems, and gold, and glitter, Magnificently mingled in a litter. XCIV. Wealth had done wonders-taste not much; such things In the more chastened domes of western kings In this imperial hall at distance lay A lady. Baba stopp'd, and kneeling, sign'd XCVI. The lady, rising up with such an air As Venus rose with from the wave, on them Bent like an antelope a Paphian pair Of eyes, which put out each surrounding gem: And, raising up an arm, as moonlight fair, She sign'd to Baba, who first kiss'd the hem Of her deep purple robe, and, speaking low, Pointed to Juan, who remain'd below. XCVII. Her presence was as lofty as her state; Of forms and features; it would strike you blind Could I do justice to the full detail; So, luckily for both, my phrases fail. XCVIII. This much however, I may add―her years Were ripe, they might make six and twenty springs, But there are forms which Time to touch forbears, And turns aside his scythe to vulgar things, Such as was Mary's, Queen of Scots : true-tears And love destroy, and sapping sorrow wrings Charms from the charmer, yet some never grow Ugly; for instance-Ninon de l'Enclos. XCIX. She spake some words to her attendants, who Who wore their uniform, by Baba chosen: Which might have call'd Diana's chorus « cousin,» As far as outward show may correspond; I won't be bail for any thing beyond. C. They bow'd obeisance and withdrew, retiring, At some small distance, all he saw within «Not to admire is all the art I know (Plain truth, dear Murray, needs few flowers of speech) To make men happy, or to keep them so;» (So take it in the very words of Creech.) Thus Horace wrote, we all know, long ago; And thus Pope quotes the precept, to re-teach From his translation; but had none admired, Would Pope have sung, or Horace been inspired? CII. Baba, when all the damsels were withdrawn, He heard repeated, Juan with a frown Drew himself up to his full height again, And said, « It grieved him, but he could not stoop To any shoe, unless it shod the Pope.»> CIII. Baba, indignant at this ill-timed pride, Made fierce remonstrances, and then a threat He mutter'd (but the last was given aside) About a bowstring-quite in vain; not yet Would Juan stoop, though 't were to Mahomet's bride: In kingly chambers or imperial halls, He stood like Atlas, with a world of words Boil'd in his veins, and rather than descend A thousand times of him had made an end; At length perceiving the « foot» could not stand, Baba proposed that he should kiss the hand. ་ CV. Here was an honourable compromise, A half-way house of diplomatic rest, Where they might meet in much more peaceful guise; And Juan now his willingness express'd To use all fit and proper courtesies, Adding, that this was commonest and best, For through the South the custom still commands The gentleman to kiss the lady's hands. CVI. And he advanced, though with but a bad grace, On such as these the lip too fondly lingers, CVII. The lady eyed him o'er and o'er, and bade And, looking on him with a sort of smile, When he was gone, there was a sudden change : CIX. Her form had all the softness of her sex, Her features all the sweetness of the devil, When he put on the cherub to perplex Eve, and paved (God knows how) the road to evil: The sun himself was scarce more free from specks Than she from aught at which the eye could cavil; Yet somehow there was something somewhere wanting, As if she rather order'd than was granting.— CX. Something imperial, or imperious, threw A chain o'er all she did; that is a chain Was thrown as 't were about the neck of you,And rapture's self will seem almost a pain With aught which looks like despotism in view. Our souls at least are free, and 't is in vain We would against them make the flesh obey— The spirit in the end will have its way. CXI. Her very smile was haughty, though so sweet; As though they were quite conscious of her stationThey trod as upon necks; and to complete Her state (it is the custom of her nation), A poniard deck'd her girdle, as the sign She was a sultan's bride (thank Heaven, not mine). |