Lord Byron

“ And now to business.—O my gentle Juan, Thou art in London—in that pleasant place, Where every kind of mischief 's daily brewing, Which can await warm youth in its wild race. 'T is true, that thy career is not a new one; Thou art no novice in the headlong chase Of early life; but this is a new land, Which foreigners can never understand. What with a small diversity of climate, Of hot or cold, mercurial or sedate, I could send forth my mandate like a primate Upon the rest of Europe's social state; But thou art the most difficult to rhyme at, Great Britain, which the Muse may penetrate. ”

“ Eternal summer gilds them yet, But all, except their sun, is set. The Scian and the Teian muse, The hero's harp, the lover's lute, Have found the fame your shores refuse; Their place of birth alone is mute To sounds which echo further west Than your sires' 'Islands of the Blest.' The mountains look on Marathon— And Marathon looks on the sea; And musing there an hour alone, I dream'd that Greece might still be free; For standing on the Persians' grave, I could not deem myself a slave. A king sate on the rocky brow Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis ”

“ Polygamy may well be held in dread, Not only as a sin, but as a bore: Most wise men, with one moderate woman wed, Will scarcely find philosophy for more; And all (except Mahometans) forbear To make the nuptial couch a 'Bed of Ware.' His Highness, the sublimest of mankind,— So styled according to the usual forms Of every monarch, till they are consign'd To those sad hungry jacobins the worms, Who on the very loftiest kings have dined,— His Highness gazed upon Gulbeyaz' charms, Expecting all the welcome of a lover (A 'Highland welcome' all the wide world over) . ”

“ While Venus fills the heart (without heart really Love, though good always, is not quite so good) , Ceres presents a plate of vermicelli,— 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 purveyor from above Heaven knows,—it may be Neptune, Pan, or Jove. 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 ”

“ 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 none, But those who have ne'er end with only one. 'T is 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. ”

“ When Juan spoke, too—it might be in sport— Of this their mutual feeling, she replied— 'If it should be so,—but—it cannot be— Or I at least shall not survive to see.' Juan would question further, but she press'd His lip to hers, and silenced him with this, And then dismiss'd the omen from her breast, Defying augury with that fond kiss; And no doubt of all methods 't is the best: Some people prefer wine—'t is not amiss; I have tried both; so those who would a part take May choose between the headache and the heartache. ”

“ Ambition was my idol, which was broken Before the shrines of Sorrow, and of Pleasure; And the two last have left me many a token O'er which reflection may be made at leisure: Now, like Friar Bacon's brazen head, I 've spoken, 'Time is, Time was, Time 's past:'—a chymic treasure Is glittering youth, which I have spent betimes— My heart in passion, and my head on rhymes. What is the end of Fame? 't is but to fill A certain portion of uncertain paper: Some liken it to climbing up a hill, Whose summit, like all hills, is lost in vapour ”

“ CANTO THE THIRD. 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 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! O, 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? ”

“ And in this scene of all-confess'd inanity, By saint, by sage, by preacher, and by poet, Must I restrain me, through the fear of strife, From holding up the nothingness of life? Dogs, or men!—for I flatter you in saying That ye are dogs—your betters far—ye may Read, or read not, what I am now essaying To show ye what ye are in every way. As little as the moon stops for the baying Of wolves, will the bright muse withdraw one ray From out her skies—then howl your idle wrath! While she still silvers o'er your gloomy path. ”

“ 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. 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. ”

“ 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. And thus they parted, each by separate doors; Baba led Juan onward room by room Through glittering galleries and o'er marble floors, Till a gigantic portal through the gloom, Haughty and huge, along the distance lowers; And wafted far arose a rich perfume: It seem'd as though they came upon a shrine, For all was vast, still, fragrant, and divine. ”

“ Juan and Haidee gazed upon each other With swimming looks of speechless tenderness, Which mix'd all feelings, friend, child, lover, brother, All that the best can mingle and express When two pure hearts are pour'd in one another, And love too much, and yet can not love less; But almost sanctify the sweet excess By the immortal wish and power to bless. Mix'd in each other's arms, and heart in heart, Why did they not then die?—they had lived too long Should an hour come to bid them breathe apart; Years could but bring them cruel things or wrong ”

“ Of all the dresses I select Haidee's: She wore two jelicks—one was of pale yellow; Of azure, pink, and white was her chemise— 'Neath which her breast heaved like a little billow; With buttons form'd of pearls as large as peas, All gold and crimson shone her jelick's fellow, And the striped white gauze baracan that bound her, Like fleecy clouds about the moon, flow'd round her. One large gold bracelet clasp'd each lovely arm, Lockless—so pliable from the pure gold That the hand stretch'd and shut it without harm, The limb which it adorn'd its only mould; So beautiful—its very shape would charm ”

“ Carelessly I sing, But Phoebus lends me now and then a string, With which I still can harp, and carp, and fiddle. What farther hath befallen or may befall The hero of this grand poetic riddle, I by and by may tell you, if at all: But now I choose to break off in the middle, Worn out with battering Ismail's stubborn wall, While Juan is sent off with the despatch, For which all Petersburgh is on the watch. This special honour was conferr'd, because He had behaved with courage and humanity— Which last men like, when they have time to pause From their ferocities produced by vanity. ”

“ If fair Gulbeyaz overdid her part, I know not—it succeeded, and success Is much in most things, not less in the heart Than other articles of female dress. Self-love in man, too, beats all female art; They lie, we lie, all lie, but love no less; And no one virtue yet, except starvation, Could stop that worst of vices—propagation. We leave this royal couple to repose: A bed is not a throne, and they may sleep, Whate'er their dreams be, if of joys or woes: Yet disappointed joys are woes as deep As any man's day mixture undergoes. Our least of sorrows are such as we weep ”

“ The ocean when its yeasty war is waging Is awful to the vessel near the rock; But violent things will sooner bear assuaging, Their fury being spent by its own shock, Than the stern, single, deep, and wordless ire Of a strong human heart, and in a sire. It is a hard although a common case To find our children running restive—they In whom our brightest days we would retrace, Our little selves re-form'd in finer clay, Just as old age is creeping on apace, And clouds come o'er the sunset of our day, They kindly leave us, though not quite alone, But in good company—the gout or stone. ”

“ My eyeballs burn and throb, but have no tears. 'I loved, I love you, for this love have lost State, station, heaven, mankind's, my own esteem, And yet can not regret what it hath cost, So dear is still the memory of that dream; Yet, if I name my guilt, 't is not to boast, None can deem harshlier of me than I deem: I trace this scrawl because I cannot rest— I 've nothing to reproach, or to request. 'Man's love is of man's life a thing apart, 'T is woman's whole existence; man may range The court, camp, church, the vessel, and the mart ”

“ Where juries cast up what a wife is worth, By laying whate'er sum in mulct they please on The lover, who must pay a handsome price, Because it is a marketable vice. Alfonso was the name of Julia's lord, A man well looking for his years, and who Was neither much beloved nor yet abhorr'd: They lived together, as most people do, Suffering each other's foibles by accord, And not exactly either one or two; Yet he was jealous, though he did not show it, For jealousy dislikes the world to know it. Julia was—yet I never could see why— With Donna Inez quite a favourite friend ”

“ But more imprudent grown with every visit, Haidee forgot the island was her sire's; When we have what we like, 't is 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. 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 't is nothing but taxation; But he, more modest, took an humbler range Of life, and in an honester vocation Pursued o'er the high seas his watery journey, And merely practised as a sea-attorney. ”

“ And now and then her eye to heaven is cast, And then on the pale cheek her breast now warms, Pillow'd on her o'erflowing heart, which pants With all it granted, and with all it grants. 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. ”

“ And if she met him, though she smiled no more, She look'd a sadness sweeter than her smile, As if her heart had deeper thoughts in store She must not own, but cherish'd more the while For that compression in its burning core; Even innocence itself has many a wile, And will not dare to trust itself with truth, And love is taught hypocrisy from youth. But passion most dissembles, yet betrays Even by its darkness; as the blackest sky Foretells the heaviest tempest, it displays Its workings through the vainly guarded eye, And in whatever aspect it arrays Itself, 't is still the same hypocrisy ”

“ Whether my verse's fame be doom'd to cease While the right hand which wrote it still is able, Or of some centuries to take a lease, The grass upon my grave will grow as long, And sigh to midnight winds, but not to song. Of poets who come down to us through distance Of time and tongues, the foster-babes of Fame, Life seems the smallest portion of existence; Where twenty ages gather o'er a name, 'T is as a snowball which derives assistance From every flake, and yet rolls on the same, Even till an iceberg it may chance to grow ”

“ They heard the wave's splash, and the wind so low, And saw each other's dark eyes darting light Into each other—and, beholding this, Their lips drew near, and clung into a kiss; A long, long kiss, a kiss of youth, and love, And beauty, all concentrating like rays Into one focus, kindled from above; Such kisses as belong to early days, Where heart, and soul, and sense, in concert move, And the blood 's lava, and the pulse a blaze, Each kiss a heart-quake,—for a kiss's strength, I think, it must be reckon'd by its length. ”

“ There 's not a sea the passenger e'er pukes in, Turns up more dangerous breakers than the Euxine. 'T was a raw day of Autumn's bleak beginning, When nights are equal, but not so the days; The Parcae then cut short the further spinning Of seamen's fates, and the loud tempests raise The waters, and repentance for past sinning In all, who o'er the great deep take their ways: They vow to amend their lives, and yet they don't; Because if drown'd, they can't—if spared, they won't. A crowd of shivering slaves of every nation, And age, and sex, were in the market ranged ”

“ An uniform to boys is like a fan To women; there is scarce a crimson varlet But deems himself the first in Glory's van. But Glory's glory; and if you would find What that is—ask the pig who sees the wind! At least he feels it, and some say he sees, Because he runs before it like a pig; Or, if that simple sentence should displease, Say, that he scuds before it like a brig, A schooner, or—but it is time to ease This Canto, ere my Muse perceives fatigue. The next shall ring a peal to shake all people, Like a bob-major from a village steeple. ”

“ Her mother was a Moorish maid, from Fez, Where all is Eden, or a wilderness. There the large olive rains its amber store In marble fonts; there grain, and flower, and fruit, Gush from the earth until the land runs o'er; But there, too, many a poison-tree has root, And midnight listens to the lion's roar, And long, long deserts scorch the camel's foot, Or heaving whelm the helpless caravan; And as the soil is, so the heart of man. Afric is all the sun's, and as her earth Her human day is kindled ”

“ Whether they may sow scepticism to reap hell, As is the Christian dogma rather rough, I do not know;—I wish men to be free As much from mobs as kings—from you as me. The consequence is, being of no party, I shall offend all parties: never mind! My words, at least, are more sincere and hearty Than if I sought to sail before the wind. He who has nought to gain can have small art: he Who neither wishes to be bound nor bind, May still expatiate freely, as will I, Nor give my voice to slavery's jackal cry. ”

“ No matter how or why the thing befell, But there were she and Juan, face to face— When two such faces are so, 't would be wise, But very difficult, to shut their eyes. How beautiful she look'd! her conscious heart Glow'd in her cheek, and yet she felt no wrong. O Love! how perfect is thy mystic art, Strengthening the weak, and trampling on the strong, How self-deceitful is the sagest part Of mortals whom thy lure hath led along— The precipice she stood on was immense, So was her creed in her own innocence. ”

“ 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. Both were so young, and one so innocent, That bathing pass'd for nothing; Juan seem'd To her, as 'twere, the kind of being sent, Of whom these two years she had nightly dream'd, A something to be loved, a creature meant 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. ”

“ Man 's a phenomenon, one knows not what, And wonderful beyond all wondrous measure; 'T is pity though, in this sublime world, that Pleasure 's a sin, and sometimes sin 's a pleasure; Few mortals know what end they would be at, But whether glory, power, or love, or treasure, The path is through perplexing ways, and when The goal is gain'd, we die, you know—and then— What then?—I do not know, no more do you— And so good night.—Return we to our story: 'T was in November, when fine days are few, And the far mountains wax a little hoary, And clap a white cape on their mantles blue ”

“ The army, like a lion from his den, March'd forth with nerve and sinews bent to slay,— A human Hydra, issuing from its fen To breathe destruction on its winding way, Whose heads were heroes, which cut off in vain Immediately in others grew again. History can only take things in the gross; But could we know them in detail, perchance In balancing the profit and the loss, War's merit it by no means might enhance, To waste so much gold for a little dross, As hath been done, mere conquest to advance. The drying up a single tear has more Of honest fame, than shedding seas of gore. ”

“ While that 'hiatus maxime deflendus' To be fill'd up by spade or mattock's near, Instead of gliding graciously down Lethe, We tease mild Baillie, or soft Abernethy. Juan demurr'd at this first notice to Quit; and though death had threaten'd an ejection, His youth and constitution bore him through, And sent the doctors in a new direction. But still his state was delicate: the hue Of health but flicker'd with a faint reflection Along his wasted cheek, and seem'd to gravel The faculty—who said that he must travel. The climate was too cold, they said, for him, Meridian-born, to bloom in. ”

“ And if we now and then a sigh must heave At quitting even those we quit in strife, No doubt we weep for those the heart endears— That is, till deeper griefs congeal our tears. So Juan wept, as wept the captive Jews By Babel's waters, still remembering Sion: I 'd weep,—but mine is not a weeping Muse, And such light griefs are not a thing to die on; Young men should travel, if but to amuse Themselves; and the next time their servants tie on Behind their carriages their new portmanteau, Perhaps it may be lined with this my canto. ”

“ Society itself, which should create Kindness, destroys what little we had got: To feel for none is the true social art Of the world's stoics—men without a heart.' Just now a black old neutral personage Of the third sex stept up, and peering over The captives, seem'd to mark their looks and age, And capabilities, as to discover If they were fitted for the purposed cage: No lady e'er is ogled by a lover, Horse by a blackleg, broadcloth by a tailor, Fee by a counsel, felon by a jailor, As is a slave by his intended bidder. ”

“ On such as these the lip too fondly lingers, And for one kiss would fain imprint a brace, As you will see, if she you love shall bring hers In contact; and sometimes even a fair stranger's An almost twelvemonth's constancy endangers. The lady eyed him o'er and o'er, and bade Baba retire, which he obey'd in style, As if well used to the retreating trade; And taking hints in good part all the while, He whisper'd Juan not to be afraid, And looking on him with a sort of smile, Took leave, with such a face of satisfaction As good men wear who have done a virtuous action. ”

“ To no men are such cordial greetings given As those whose wives have made them fit for heaven. His Highness cast around his great black eyes, And looking, as he always look'd, perceived Juan amongst the damsels in disguise, At which he seem'd no whit surprised nor grieved, But just remark'd with air sedate and wise, While still a fluttering sigh Gulbeyaz heaved, 'I see you 've bought another girl; 't is pity That a mere Christian should be half so pretty.' This compliment, which drew all eyes upon The new-bought virgin, made her blush and shake. ”

“ And yet a headlong, headstrong, downright she, Young, beautiful, and daring—who would risk A throne, the world, the universe, to be Beloved in her own way, and rather whisk The stars from out the sky, than not be free As are the billows when the breeze is brisk— Though such a she 's a devil (if that there be one) , Yet she would make full many a Manichean. Thrones, worlds, et cetera, are so oft upset By commonest ambition, that when passion O'erthrows the same, we readily forget, Or at the least forgive, the loving rash one. ”

“ But if she were deliver'd safe and sound, They should at least have fifty rubles round, And all allowances besides of plunder In fair proportion with their comrades;—then Juan consented to march on through thunder, Which thinn'd at every step their ranks of men: And yet the rest rush'd eagerly—no wonder, For they were heated by the hope of gain, A thing which happens everywhere each day— No hero trusteth wholly to half pay. And such is victory, and such is man! At least nine tenths of what we call so;—God May have another name for half we scan As human beings, or his ways are odd. ”

“ For she felt humbled—and humiliation Is sometimes good for people in her station It teaches them that they are flesh and blood, It also gently hints to them that others, Although of clay, are yet not quite of mud; That urns and pipkins are but fragile brothers, And works of the same pottery, bad or good, Though not all born of the same sires and mothers: It teaches—Heaven knows only what it teaches, But sometimes it may mend, and often reaches. Her first thought was to cut off Juan's head ”

“ But Juan, who had still his mind o'erflowing With Haidee's isle and soft Ionian face, Felt the warm blood, which in his face was glowing, Rush back upon his heart, which fill'd apace, And left his cheeks as pale as snowdrops blowing; These words went through his soul like Arab-spears, So that he spoke not, but burst into tears. She was a good deal shock'd; not shock'd at tears, For women shed and use them at their liking; But there is something when man's eye appears Wet, still more disagreeable and striking ”

“ She order'd him directly to be bought, And Baba, who had ne'er been known to fail In any kind of mischief to be wrought, At all such auctions knew how to prevail: She had no prudence, but he had; and this Explains the garb which Juan took amiss. His youth and features favour'd the disguise, And, should you ask how she, a sultan's bride, Could risk or compass such strange phantasies, This I must leave sultanas to decide: Emperors are only husbands in wives' eyes, And kings and consorts oft are mystified, As we may ascertain with due precision, Some by experience, others by tradition. ”