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George Gordon Lord Byron (1788-1824)

Don Juan: Canto the Eleventh


I
              1When Bishop Berkeley said "there was no matter,"
              2     And proved it--'twas no matter what he sald:
              3They say his system 'tis in vain to batter,
              4     Too subtle for the airiest human head;
              5And yet who can believe it! I would shatter
              6     Gladly all matters down to stone or lead,
              7Or adamant, to find the World a spirit,
              8And wear my head, denying that I wear it.

II
              9What a sublime discovery 'twas to make the
            10     Universe universal egotism,
            11That all's ideal--all ourselves: I'll stake the
            12     World (be it what you will) that that's no schism.
            13Oh Doubt!--if thou be'st Doubt, for which some take thee,
            14     But which I doubt extremely--thou sole prism
            15Of the Truth's rays, spoil not my draught of spirit!
            16Heaven's brandy, though our brain can hardly bear it.

III
            17For ever and anon comes Indigestion
            18     (Not the most "dainty Ariel") and perplexes
            19Our soarings with another sort of question:
            20     And that which after all my spirit vexes,
            21Is, that I find no spot where Man can rest eye on,
            22     Without confusion of the sorts and sexes,
            23Of beings, stars, and this unriddled wonder,
            24The World, which at the worst's a glorious blunder--

IV
            25If it be chance--or, if it be according
            26     To the Old Text, still better: lest it should
            27Turn out so, we'll say nothing 'gainst the wording,
            28     As several people think such hazards rude.
            29They're right; our days are too brief for affording
            30     Space to dispute what no one ever could
            31Decide, and everybody one day will
            32Know very clearly--or at least lie still.

V
            33And therefore will I leave off metaphysical
            34     Discussion, which is neither here nor there:
            35If I agree that what is, is; then this I call
            36     Being quite perspicuous and extremely fair.
            37The truth is, I've grown lately rather phthisical:
            38     I don't know what the reason is--the air
            39Perhaps; but as I suffer from the shocks
            40Of illness, I grow much more orthodox.

VI
            41The first attack at once prov'd the Divinity
            42     (But that I never doubted, nor the Devil);
            43The next, the Virgin's mystical virginity;
            44     The third, the usual Origin of Evil;
            45The fourth at once establish'd the whole Trinity
            46     On so uncontrovertible a level,
            47That I devoutly wish'd the three were four--
            48On purpose to believe so much the more.

VII
            49To our theme.--The man who has stood on the Acropolis,
            50     And look'd down over Attica; or he
            51Who has sail'd where picturesque Constantinople is,
            52     Or seen Timbuctoo, or hath taken tea
            53In small-ey'd China's crockery-ware metropolis,
            54     Or sat amidst the bricks of Nineveh,
            55May not think much of London's first appearance--
            56But ask him what he thinks of it a year hence!

VIII
            57Don Juan had got out on Shooter's Hill;
            58     Sunset the time, the place the same declivity
            59Which looks along that vale of good and ill
            60     Where London streets ferment in full activity,
            61While everything around was calm and still,
            62     Except the creak of wheels, which on their pivot he
            63Heard, and that bee-like, bubbling, busy hum
            64Of cities, that boil over with their scum--

IX
            65I say, Don Juan, wrapp'd in contemplation,
            66     Walk'd on behind his carriage, o'er the summit,
            67And lost in wonder of so great a nation,
            68     Gave way to't, since he could not overcome it.
            69"And here," he cried, "is Freedom's chosen station;
            70     Here peals the People's voice nor can entomb it
            71Racks, prisons, inquisitions; resurrection
            72Awaits it, each new meeting or election.

X
            73"Here are chaste wives, pure lives; her people pay
            74     But what they please; and if that things be dear,
            75'Tis only that they love to throw away
            76     Their cash, to show how much they have a-year.
            77Here laws are all inviolate; none lay
            78     Traps for the traveller; every highway's clear;
            79Here"--he was interrupted by a knife,
            80With--"Damn your eyes! your money or your life!"

XI
            81These free-born sounds proceeded from four pads
            82     In ambush laid, who had perceiv'd him loiter
            83Behind his carriage; and, like handy lads,
            84     Had seiz'd the lucky hour to reconnoitre,
            85In which the heedless gentleman who gads
            86     Upon the road, unless he prove a fighter
            87May find himself within that isle of riches
            88Expos'd to lose his life as well as breeches.

XII
            89Juan, who did not understand a word
            90     Of English, save their shibboleth, "God damn!"
            91And even that he had so rarely heard,
            92     He sometimes thought 'twas only their Salam,"
            93Or "God be with you!"--and 'tis not absurd
            94     To think so, for half English as I am
            95(To my misfortune) never can I say
            96I heard them wish "God with you," save that way--

XIII
            97Juan yet quickly understood their gesture,
            98     And being somewhat choleric and sudden,
            99Drew forth a pocket pistol from his vesture,
          100     And fired it into one assailant's pudding,
          101Who fell, as rolls an ox o'er in his pasture,
          102     And roar'd out, as he writh'd his native mud in,
          103Unto his nearest follower or henchman,
          104"Oh Jack! I'm floor'd by that ere bloody Frenchman!"

XIV
          105On which Jack and his train set off at speed,
          106     And Juan's suite, late scatter'd at a distance,
          107Came up, all marvelling at such a deed,
          108     And offering, as usual, late assistance.
          109Juan, who saw the moon's late minion bleed
          110     As if his veins would pour out his existence,
          111Stood calling out for bandages and lint,
          112And wish'd he had been less hasty with his flint.

XV
          113"Perhaps,"thought he,"it is the country's wont
          114     To welcome foreigners in this way: now
          115I recollect some innkeepers who don't
          116     Differ, except in robbing with a bow,
          117In lieu of a bare blade and brazen front.
          118     But what is to be done? I can't allow
          119The fellow to lie groaning on the road:
          120So take him up, I'll help you with the load."

XVI
          121But ere they could perform this pious duty,
          122     The dying man cried, "Hold! I've got my gruel!
          123Oh! for a glass of max ! We've miss'd our booty--
          124     Let me die where I am!" And as the fuel
          125Of life shrunk in his heart, and thick and sooty
          126     The drops fell from his death-wound, and he drew ill
          127His breath, he from his swelling throat untied
          128A kerchief, crying "Give Sal that!"--and died.

XVII
          129The cravat stain'd with bloody drops fell down
          130     Before Don Juan's feet: he could not tell
          131Exactly why it was before him thrown,
          132     Nor what the meaning of the man's farewell.
          133Poor Tom was once a kiddy upon town,
          134     A thorough varmint, and a real swell,
          135Full flash, all fancy, until fairly diddled,
          136His pockets first and then his body riddled.

XVIII
          137Don Juan, having done the best he could
          138     In all the circumstances of the case,
          139As soon as "Crowner's 'quest" allow'd, pursu'd
          140     His travels to the capital apace;
          141Esteeming it a little hard he should
          142     In twelve hours' time, and very little space,
          143Have been oblig'd to slay a free-born native
          144In self-defence: this made him meditative.

XIX
          145He from the world had cut off a great man,
          146     Who in his time had made heroic bustle.
          147Who in a row like Tom could lead the van,
          148     Booze in the ken, or at the spellken hustle?
          149Who queer a flat? Who (spite of Bowstreet's ban)
          150     On the high toby-spice so flash the muzzle?
          151Who on a lark, with black-eyed Sal (his blowing),
          152So prime, so swell, so nutty, and so knowing?

XX
          153But Tom's no more--and so no more of Tom.
          154     Heroes must die; and by God's blessing 'tis
          155Not long before the most of them go home.
          156     Hail! Thamis, hail! Upon thy verge it is
          157That Juan's chariot, rolling like a drum
          158     In thunder, holds the way it can't well miss,
          159Through Kennington and all the other "tons,"
          160Which make us wish ourselves in town at once;

XXI
          161Through Groves, so called as being void of trees,
          162     (Like lucus from no light); through prospects nam'd
          163Mount Pleasant, as containing nought to please,
          164     Nor much to climb; through little boxes fram'd
          165Of bricks, to let the dust in at your ease,
          166     With "To be let," upon their doors proclaim'd;
          167Through "Rows" most modestly call'd "Paradise,"
          168Which Eve might quit without much sacrifice;

XXII
          169Through coaches, drays, chok'd turnpikes, and a whirl
          170     Of wheels, and roar of voices, and confusion;
          171Here taverns wooing to a pint of "purl,"
          172     There mails fast flying off like a delusion;
          173There barbers' blocks with periwigs in curl
          174     In windows; here the lamplighter's infusion
          175Slowly distill'd into the glimmering glass
          176(For in those days we had not got to gas);

XXIII
          177Through this, and much, and more, is the approach
          178     Of travellers to mighty Babylon:
          179Whether they come by horse, or chaise, or coach,
          180     With slight exceptions, all the ways seem one.
          181I could say more, but do not choose to encroach
          182     Upon the guide-book's privilege. The sun
          183Had set some time, and night was on the ridge
          184Of twilight, as the party cross'd the bridge.

XXIV
          185That's rather fine, the gentle sound of Thamis--
          186     Who vindicates a moment, too, his stream--
          187Though hardly heard through multifarious "damme's":
          188     The lamps of Westminster's more regular gleam,
          189The breadth of pavement, and yon shrine where Fame is
          190     A spectral resident--whose pallid beam
          191In shape of moonshine hovers o'er the pile--
          192Make this a sacred part of Albion's Isle.

XXV
          193The Druid's groves are gone--so much the better:
          194     Stonehenge is not--but what the devil is it?--
          195But Bedlam still exists with its sage fetter,
          196     That madmen may not bite you on a visit;
          197The Bench too seats or suits full many a debtor;
          198     The Mansion House too (though some people quiz it)
          199To me appears a stiff yet grand erection;
          200But then the Abbey's worth the whole collection.

XXVI
          201The line of lights too, up to Charing Cross,
          202     Pall Mall, and so forth, have a coruscation
          203Like gold as in comparison to dross,
          204     Match'd with the Continent's illumination,
          205Whose cities Night by no means deigns to gloss.
          206     The French were not yet a lamp-lighting nation,
          207And when they grew so--on their new-found lantern,
          208Instead of wicks, they made a wicked man turn.

XXVII
          209A row of Gentlemen along the streets
          210     Suspended may illuminate mankind,
          211As also bonfires made of country seats;
          212     But the old way is best for the purblind:
          213The other looks like phosphorus on sheets,
          214     A sort of ignis fatuus to the mind,
          215Which, though 'tis certain to perplex and frighten,
          216Must burn more mildly ere it can enlighten.

XXVIII
          217But London's so well lit, that if Diogenes
          218     Could recommence to hunt his honest man
          219And found him not amidst the various progenies
          220     Of this enormous city's spreading spawn,
          221'Twere not for want of lamps to aid his dodging his
          222     Yet undiscover'd treasure. What I can,
          223I've done to find the same throughout life's journey,
          224But see the World is only one attorney.

XXIX
          225Over the stones still rattling, up Pall Mall,
          226     Through crowds and carriages, but waxing thinner
          227As thunder'd knockers broke the long seal'd spell
          228     Of doors 'gainst duns, and to an early dinner
          229Admitted a small party as night fell,
          230     Don Juan, our young diplomatic sinner,
          231Pursu'd his path, and drove past some hotels,
          232St. James's Palace, and St. James's "Hells."

XXX
          233They reach'd the hotel: forth stream'd from the front door
          234     A tide of well-clad waiters, and around
          235The mob stood, and as usual several score
          236     Of those pedestrian Paphians who abound
          237In decent London when the daylight's o'er;
          238     Commodious but immoral, they are found
          239Useful, like Malthus, in promoting marriage:
          240But Juan now is stepping from his carriage

XXXI
          241Into one of the sweetest of hotels,
          242     Especially for foreigners--and mostly
          243For those whom favour or whom fortune swells,
          244     And cannot find a bill's small items costly.
          245There many an envoy either dwelt or dwells
          246     (The den of many a diplomatic lost lie),
          247Until to some conspicuous square they pass,
          248And blazon o'er the door their names in brass.

XXXII
          249Juan, whose was a delicate commission,
          250     Private, though publicly important, bore
          251No title to point out with due precision
          252     The exact affair on which he was sent o'er.
          253'Twas merely known, that on a secret mission
          254     A foreigner of rank had grac'd our shore,
          255Young, handsome and accomplish'd, who was said
          256(In whispers) to have turn'd his Sovereign's head.

XXXIII
          257Some rumour also of some strange adventures
          258     Had gone before him, and his wars and loves;
          259And as romantic heads are pretty painters,
          260     And, above all, an Englishwoman's roves
          261Into the excursive, breaking the indentures
          262     Of sober reason, wheresoe'er it moves,
          263He found himself extremely in the fashion,
          264Which serves our thinking people for a passion.

XXXIV
          265I don't mean that they are passionless, but quite
          266     The contrary; but then 'tis in the head;
          267Yet as the consequences are as bright
          268     As if they acted with the heart instead,
          269What after all can signify the site
          270     Of ladies' lucubrations? So they lead
          271In safety to the place for which you start,
          272What matters if the road be head or heart?

XXXV
          273Juan presented in the proper place,
          274     To proper placement, every Russ credential;
          275And was receiv'd with all the due grimace
          276     By those who govern in the mood potential,
          277Who, seeing a handsome stripling with smooth face,
          278     Thought (what in state affairs is most essential)
          279That they as easily might do the youngster,
          280As hawks may pounce upon a woodland songster.

XXXVI
          281They err'd, as aged men will do; but by
          282     And by we'll talk of that; and if we don't,
          283'T will be because our notion is not high
          284     Of politicians and their double front,
          285Who live by lies, yet dare not boldly lie:
          286     Now, what I love in women is, they won't
          287Or can't do otherwise than lie, but do it
          288So well, the very truth seems falsehood to it.

XXXVII
          289And, after all, what is a lie? 'Tis but
          290     The truth in masquerade; and I defy
          291Historians, heroes, lawyers, priests, to put
          292     A fact without some leaven of a lie.
          293The very shadow of true Truth would shut
          294     Up annals, revelations, poesy,
          295And prophecy--except it should be dated
          296Some years before the incidents related.

XXXVIII
          297Prais'd be all liars and all lies! Who now
          298     Can tax my mild Muse with misanthropy?
          299She rings the World's "Te Deum," and her brow
          300     Blushes for those who will not: but to sigh
          301Is idle; let us like most others bow,
          302     Kiss hands, feet, any part of Majesty,
          303After the good example of "Green Erin,"
          304Whose shamrock now seems rather worse for wearing.

XXXIX
          305Don Juan was presented, and his dress
          306     And mien excited general admiration;
          307I don't know which was more admir'd or less:
          308     One monstrous diamond drew much observation,
          309Which Catherine in a moment of "ivresse"
          310     (In love or brandy's fervent fermentation)
          311Bestow'd upon him, as the public learn'd;
          312And, to say truth, it had been fairly earn'd.

XL
          313Besides the ministers and underlings,
          314     Who must be courteous to the accredited
          315Diplomatists of rather wavering kings,
          316     Until their royal riddle's fully read,
          317The very clerks--those somewhat dirty springs
          318     Of Office, or the House of Office, fed
          319By foul corruption into streams--even they
          320Were hardly rude enough to earn their pay.

XLI
          321And insolence no doubt is what they are
          322     Employ'd for, since it is their daily labour,
          323In the dear offices of peace or war;
          324     And should you doubt, pray ask of your next neighbour,
          325When for a passport, or some other bar
          326     To freedom, he applied (a grief and a bore),
          327If he found not this spawn of tax-born riches,
          328Like lap-dogs, the least civil sons of b{-}{-}{-}{-}{-}s.

XLII
          329But Juan was receiv'd with much "empressement" --
          330     These phrases of refinement I must borrow
          331From our next neighbours' land, where, like a chessman,
          332     There is a move set down for joy or sorrow,
          333Not only in mere talking, but the press. Man
          334     In islands is, it seems, downright and thorough,
          335More than on continents--as if the sea
          336(See Billingsgate) made even the tongue more free.

XLIII
          337And yet the British "Damme" 's rather Attic,
          338     Your continental oaths are but incontinent,
          339And turn on things which no aristocratic
          340     Spirit would name, and therefore even I won't anent
          341This subject quote; as it would be schismatic
          342     In politesse, and have a sound affronting in 't;
          343But "Damme" 's quite ethereal, though too daring--
          344Platonic blasphemy, the soul of swearing.

XLIV
          345For downright rudeness, ye may stay at home;
          346     For true or false politeness (and scarce that
          347Now) you may cross the blue deep and white foam:
          348     The first the emblem (rarely though) of what
          349You leave behind, the next of much you come
          350     To meet. However, 'tis no time to chat
          351On general topics: poems must confine
          352Themselves to Unity, like this of mine.

XLV
          353In the great world--which, being interpreted,
          354     Meaneth the West or worst end of a city,
          355And about twice two thousand people bred
          356     By no means to be very wise or witty,
          357But to sit up while others lie in bed,
          358     And look down on the Universe with pity--
          359Juan, as an inveterate patrician,
          360Was well receiv'd by persons of condition.

XLVI
          361He was a bachelor, which is a matter
          362     Of import both to virgin and to bride,
          363The former's hymeneal hopes to flatter;
          364     And (should she not hold fast by love or pride)
          365'Tis also of some momemt to the latter:
          366     A rib's a thorn in a wed gallant's side,
          367Requires decorum, and is apt to double
          368The horrid sin--and what's still worse the trouble.

XLVII
          369But Juan was a bachelor--of arts,
          370     And parts, and hearts: he danc'd and sung, and had
          371An air as sentimental as Mozart's
          372     Softest of melodies; and could be sad
          373Or cheerful, without any "flaws or starts,"
          374     Just at the proper time; and though a lad,
          375Had seen the world--which is a curious sight,
          376And very much unlike what people write.

XLVIII
          377Fair virgins blush'd upon him; wedded dames
          378Bloom'd also in less transitory hues;
          379For both commodities dwell by the Thames
          380The painting and the painted; Youth, Ceruse,
          381Against his heart preferr'd their usual claims,
          382Such as no gentleman can quite refuse;
          383Daughters admir'd his dress, and pious mothers
          384Inquir'd his income, and if he had brothers.

XLIX
          385The milliners who furnish "drapery Misses"
          386     Throughout the season, upon speculation
          387Of payment ere the Honeymoon's last kisses
          388     Have wan'd into a crescent's coruscation,
          389Thought such an opportunity as this is,
          390     Of a rich foreigner's initiation,
          391Not to be overlook'd--and gave such credit,
          392That future bridegrooms swore, and sigh'd, and paid it.

L
          393The Blues, that tender tribe, who sigh o'er sonnets,
          394     And with the pages of the last Review
          395Line the interior of their heads or bonnets,
          396     Advanc'd in all their azure's highest hue:
          397They talk'd bad French or Spanish, and upon its
          398     Late authors ask'd him for a hint or two;
          399And which was softest, Russian or Castilian?
          400And whether in his travels he saw Ilion?

LI
          401Juan, who was a little superficial,
          402     And not in literature a great Drawcansir,
          403Examin'd by this learned and especial
          404     Jury of matrons, scarce knew what to answer:
          405His duties warlike, loving or official,
          406     His steady application as a dancer,
          407Had kept him from the brink of Hippocrene,
          408Which now he found was blue instead of green.

LII
          409However, he replied at hazard, with
          410     A modest confidence and calm assurance,
          411Which lent his learned lucubrations pith,
          412     And pass'd for arguments of good endurance.
          413That prodigy, Miss Araminta Smith
          414     (Who at sixteen translated "Hercules Furens"
          415Into as furious English), with her best look,
          416Set down his sayings in her common-place book.

LIII
          417Juan knew several languages--as well
          418     He might--and brought them up with skill, in time
          419To save his fame with each accomplish'd belle,
          420     Who still regretted that he did not rhyme.
          421There wanted but this requisite to swell
          422     His qualities (with them) into sublime:
          423Lady Fitz-Frisky, and Miss M{ae}via Mannish,
          424Both long'd extremely to be sung in Spanish.

LIV
          425However, he did pretty well, and was
          426     Admitted as an aspirant to all
          427The coteries, and, as in Banquo's glass,
          428     At great assemblies or in parties small,
          429He saw ten thousand living authors pass,
          430     That being about their average numeral;
          431Also the eighty "greatest living poets,"
          432As every paltry magazine can show it's .

LV
          433In twice five years the "greatest living poet,"
          434     Like to the champion in the fisty ring,
          435Is call'd on to support his claim, or show it,
          436     Although 'tis an imaginary thing,
          437Even I--albeit I'm sure I did not know it,
          438     Nor sought of foolscap subjects to be king--
          439Was reckon'd, a considerable time,
          440The grand Napoleon of the realms of rhyme.

LVI
          441But Juan was my Moscow, and Faliero
          442     My Leipsic, and my Mont Saint Jean seem Cain:
          443"La Belle Alliance" of dunces down at zero,
          444     Now that the Lion's fall'n, may rise again,
          445But I will fall at least as fell my hero;
          446     Nor reign at all, or as a monarch reign;
          447Or to some lonely isle of jailors go,
          448With turncoat Southey for my turnkey Lowe.

LVII
          449Sir Walter reign'd before me; Moore and Campbell
          450     Before and after; but now grown more holy,
          451The Muses upon Sion's hill must ramble
          452     With poets almost clergymen, or wholly;
          453And Pegasus has a psalmodic amble
          454     Beneath the very Reverend Rowley Powley,
          455Who shoes the glorious animal with stilts,
          456A modern Ancient Pistol--"by the hilts!"

LVIII
          457Still he excels that artificial hard
          458     Labourer in the same vineyard, though the vine
          459Yields him but vinegar for his reward--
          460     That neutralis'd dull Dorus of the Nine;
          461That swarthy Sporus, neither man nor bard;
          462     That ox of verse, who ploughs for every line:
          463Cambyses' roaring Romans beat at least
          464The howling Hebrews of Cybele's priest.

LIX
          465Then there's my gentle Euphues, who, they say,
          466     Sets up for being a sort of moral me;
          467He'll find it rather difficult some day
          468     To turn out both, or either, it may be.
          469Some persons think that Coleridge hath the sway;
          470     And Wordsworth has supporters, two or three;
          471And that deep-mouth'd Bœotian "Savage Landor"
          472Has taken for a swan rogue Southey's gander.

LX
          473John Keats, who was kill'd off by one critique,
          474     Just as he really promis'd something great,
          475If not intelligible, without Greek
          476     Contriv'd to talk about the gods of late,
          477Much as they might have been suppos'd to speak.
          478     Poor fellow! His was an untoward fate;
          479'Tis strange the mind, that very fiery particle,
          480Should let itself be snuff'd out by an article.

LXI
          481The list grows long of live and dead pretenders
          482     To that which none will gain--or none will know
          483The conqueror at least; who, ere Time renders
          484     His last award, will have the long grass grow
          485Above his burnt-out brain, and sapless cinders.
          486     If I might augur, I should rate but low
          487Their chances; they're too numerous, like the thirty
          488Mock tyrants, when Rome's annals wax'd but dirty.

LXII
          489This is the literary lower empire,
          490     Where the pr{ae}torian bands take up the matter;
          491A "dreadful trade," like his who "gathers samphire,"
          492     The insolent soldiery to soothe and flatter,
          493With the same feelings as you'd coax a vampire,
          494     Now, were I once at home, and in good satire,
          495I'd try conclusions with those Janizaries,
          496And show them what an intellectual war is.

LXIII
          497I think I know a trick or two, would turn
          498     Their flanks; but it is hardly worth my while,
          499With such small gear to give myself concern:
          500     Indeed I've not the necessary bile;
          501My natural temper's really aught but stern,
          502     And even my Muse's worst reproof's a smile;
          503And then she drops a brief and modern curtsy,
          504And glides away, assur'd she never hurts ye.

LXIV
          505My Juan, whom I left in deadly peril
          506     Amongst live poets and blue ladies, pass'd
          507With some small profit through that field so sterile,
          508     Being tir'd in time, and, neither least nor last,
          509Left it before he had been treated very ill;
          510     And henceforth found himself more gaily class'd
          511Amongst the higher spirits of the day,
          512The sun's true son, no vapour, but a ray.

LXV
          513His morns he pass'd in business--which dissected,
          514     Was, like all business, a laborious nothing
          515That leads to lassitude, the most infected
          516     And Centaur-Nessus garb of mortal clothing,
          517And on our sofas makes us lie dejected,
          518     And talk in tender horrors of our loathing
          519All kinds of toil, save for our country's good--
          520Which grows no better, though 'tis time it should.

LXVI
          521His afternoons he pass'd in visits, luncheons,
          522     Lounging and boxing; and the twilight hour
          523In riding round those vegetable puncheons
          524     Call'd "Parks," where there is neither fruit nor flower
          525Enough to gratify a bee's slight munchings;
          526     But after all it is the only "bower"
          527(In Moore's phrase) where the fashionable fair
          528Can form a slight acquaintance with fresh air.

LXVII
          529Then dress, then dinner, then awakes the world!
          530     Then glare the lamps, then whirl the wheels, then roar
          531Through street and square fast flashing chariots hurl'd
          532     Like harness'd meteors; then along the floor
          533Chalk mimics painting; then festoons are twirl'd;
          534     Then roll the brazen thunders of the door,
          535Which opens to the thousand happy few
          536An earthly Paradise of "Or Molu."

LXVIII
          537There stands the noble hostess, nor shall sink
          538     With the three-thousandth curtsy; there the waltz,
          539The only dance which teaches girls to think,
          540     Makes one in love even with its very faults.
          541Saloon, room, hall, o'erflow beyond their brink,
          542     And long the latest of arrivals halts,
          543'Midst royal dukes and dames condemn'd to climb,
          544And gain an inch of staircase at a time.

LXIX
          545Thrice happy he who, after a survey
          546     Of the good company, can win a corner,
          547A door that's in or boudoir out of the way,
          548     Where he may fix himself like small "Jack Horner,"
          549And let the Babel round run as it may,
          550     And look on as a mourner, or a scorner,
          551Or an approver, or a mere spectator,
          552Yawning a little as the night grows later.

LXX
          553But this won't do, save by and by; and he
          554     Who, like Don Juan, takes an active share
          555Must steer with care through all that glittering sea
          556     Of gems and plumes and pearls and silks, to where
          557He deems it is his proper place to be;
          558     Dissolving in the waltz to some soft air,
          559Or proudlier prancing with mercurial skill,
          560Where Science marshals forth her own quadrille.

LXXI
          561Or, if he dance not, but hath higher views
          562     Upon an heiress or his neighbour's bride,
          563Let him take care that that which he pursues
          564     Is not at once too palpably descried.
          565Full many an eager gentleman oft rues
          566     His haste; impatience is a blundering guide
          567Amongst a people famous for reflection,
          568Who like to play the fool with circumspection.

LXXII
          569But, if you can contrive, get next at supper;
          570     Or, if forestalled, get opposite and ogle:
          571Oh, ye ambrosial moments! always upper
          572     In mind, a sort of sentimental bogle,
          573Which sits for ever upon Memory's crupper,
          574     The ghost of vanish'd pleasures once in vogue! Ill
          575Can tender souls relate the rise and fall
          576Of hopes and fears which shake a single ball.

LXXIII
          577But these precautionary hints can touch
          578     Only the common run, who must pursue,
          579And watch and ward; whose plans a word too much
          580     Or little overturns; and not the few
          581Or many (for the number's sometimes such)
          582     Whom a good mien, especially if new,
          583Or fame, or name, for wit, war, sense or nonsense,
          584Permits whate'er they please, or did not long since.

LXXIV
          585Our hero, as a hero young and handsome,
          586     Noble, rich, celebrated, and a stranger,
          587Like other slaves of course must pay his ransom
          588     Before he can escape from so much danger
          589As will environ a conspicuous man. Some
          590     Talk about poetry, and "rack and manger,"
          591And ugliness, disease, as toil and trouble--
          592I wish they knew the life of a young noble.

LXXV
          593They are young, but know not youth--it is anticipated;
          594     Handsome but wasted, rich without a sou;
          595Their vigour in a thousand arms is dissipated;
          596     Their cash comes from, their wealth goes to a Jew;
          597Both senates see their nightly votes participated
          598     Between the tyrant's and the tribunes' crew;
          599And having voted, din'd, drunk, gam'd and whor'd,
          600The family vault receives another lord.

LXXVI
          601"Where is the World," cries Young, "at eighty? Where
          602     The World in which a man was born?" Alas!
          603Where is the world of eight years past? 'Twas there--
          604     I look for it--'tis gone, a Globe of Glass!
          605Crack'd, shiver'd, vanish'd, scarcely gaz'd on, ere
          606     A silent change dissolves the glittering mass.
          607Statesmen, chiefs, orators, queens, patriots, kings,
          608And dandies--all are gone on the wind's wings.

LXXVII
          609Where is Napoleon the Grand? God knows:
          610     Where little Castlereagh? The devil can tell:
          611Where Grattan, Curran, Sheridan, all those
          612     Who bound the Bar or Senate in their spell?
          613Where is the unhappy Queen, with all her woes?
          614     And where the Daughter, whom the Isles lov'd well?
          615Where are those martyr'd saints the Five per Cents?
          616And where--oh, where the devil are the Rents?

LXXVIII
          617Where's Brummell? Dish'd. Where's Long Pole Wellesley? Diddled.
          618     Where's Whitbread? Romilly? Where's George the Third?
          619Where is his will? (That's not so soon unriddled.)
          620     And where is "Fum" the Fourth, our "royal bird"?
          621Gone down, it seems, to Scotland to be fiddled
          622     Unto by Sawney's violin, we have heard:
          623"Caw me, caw thee"--for six months hath been hatching
          624This scene of royal itch and loyal scratching.

LXXIX
          625Where is Lord This? And where my Lady That?
          626     The Honourable Mistresses and Misses?
          627Some laid aside like an old Opera hat,
          628     Married, unmarried, and remarried (this is
          629An evolution oft perform'd of late).
          630     Where are the Dublin shouts--and London hisses?
          631Where are the Grenvilles? Turn'd as usual. Where
          632My friends the Whigs? Exactly where they were.

LXXX
          633Where are the Lady Carolines and Franceses?
          634     Divorc'd or doing thereanent. Ye annals
          635So brilliant, where the list of routs and dances is,
          636     Thou Morning Post, sole record of the panels
          637Broken in carriages, and all the phantasies
          638     Of fashion, say what streams now fill those channels?
          639Some die, some fly, some languish on the Continent,
          640Because the times have hardly left them one tenant.

LXXXI
          641Some who once set their caps at cautious dukes,
          642     Have taken up at length with younger brothers:
          643Some heiresses have bit at sharpers' hooks:
          644     Some maids have been made wives, some merely mothers:
          645Others have lost their fresh and fairy looks:
          646     In short, the list of alterations bothers.
          647There's little strange in this, but something strange is
          648The unusual quickness of these common changes.

LXXXII
          649Talk not of seventy years as age! in seven
          650     I have seen more changes, down from monarchs to
          651The humblest individuals under heaven,
          652     Than might suffice a moderate century through.
          653I knew that nought was lasting, but now even
          654     Change grows too changeable, without being new:
          655Nought's permanent among the human race,
          656Except the Whigs not getting into place.

LXXXIII
          657I have seen Napoleon, who seem'd quite a Jupiter,
          658     Shrink to a Saturn. I have seen a Duke
          659(No matter which) turn politician stupider,
          660     If that can well be, than his wooden look.
          661But it is time that I should hoist my "blue Peter,"
          662     And sail for a new theme: I have seen--and shook
          663To see it--the King hiss'd, and then caress'd;
          664But don't pretend to settle which was best.

LXXXIV
          665I have seen the Landholders without a rap--
          666     I have seen Joanna Southcote--I have seen
          667The House of Commons turn'd to a taxtrap--
          668     I have seen that sad affair of the late Queen--
          669I have seen crowns worn instead of a fool's cap--
          670     I have seen a Congress doing all that's mean--
          671I have seen some nations, like o'erloaded asses,
          672Kick off their burthens--meaning the high classes.

LXXXV
          673I have seen small poets, and great prosers, and
          674     Interminable--not eternal--speakers--
          675I have seen the funds at war with house and land--
          676     I have seen the country gentlemen turn squeakers--
          677I have seen the people ridden o'er like sand
          678     By slaves on horseback--I have seen malt liquors
          679Exchang'd for "thin potations" by John Bull--
          680I have seen John half detect himself a fool.

LXXXVI
          681But "carpe diem," Juan, "carpe, carpe!"
          682     To-morrow sees another race as gay
          683And transient, and devour'd by the same harpy.
          684     "Life's a poor player"--then "play out the play,
          685Ye villains!" and above all keep a sharp eye
          686     Much less on what you do than what you say:
          687Be hypocritical, be cautious, be
          688Not what you seem, but always what you see.

LXXXVII
          689But how shall I relate in other cantos
          690     Of what befell our hero in the land,
          691Which 'tis the common cry and lie to vaunt as
          692     A moral country? But I hold my hand--
          693For I disdain to write an Atalantis;
          694     But 'tis as well at once to understand,
          695You are not a moral people, and you know it,
          696Without the aid of too sincere a poet.

LXXXVIII
          697What Juan saw and underwent shall be
          698     My topic, with of course the due restriction
          699Which is requir'd by proper courtesy;
          700     And recollect the work is only fiction,
          701And that I sing of neither mine nor me,
          702     Though every scribe, in some slight turn of diction,
          703Will hint allusions never meant. Ne'er doubt
          704This--when I speak, I don't hint, but speak out.

LXXXIX
          705Whether he married with the third or fourth
          706     Offspring of some sage husband-hunting countess,
          707Or whether with some virgin of more worth
          708     (I mean in Fortune's matrimonial bounties),
          709He took to regularly peopling Earth,
          710     Of which your lawful, awful wedlock fount is--
          711Or whether he was taken in for damages,
          712For being too excursive in his homages--

XC
          713Is yet within the unread events of time.
          714     Thus far, go forth, thou Lay, which I will back
          715Against the same given quantity of rhyme,
          716     For being as much the subject of attack
          717As ever yet was any work sublime,
          718     By those who love to say that white is black.
          719So much the better!--I may stand alone,
          720But would not change my free thoughts for a throne.

Notes

18] "dainty Ariel": see The Tempest, V, i, 95.

55] Shooter's Hill: on the Dover road, eight miles south of London, commanding a fine view of the city.

109] the moon's late minion: see Falstaff on thieves in I Henry IV, I, ii, 23-28.

123] max: gin (an example of the current underworld slang known as "flash").

133] kiddy ... real swell ... flash: more thieves' slang. A kiddy was a petty thief who showed off his success by a flashy ostentation of clothes and language.

139] "Crowner's 'quest": coroner's inquest. See the first gravedigger in Hamlet, V, i, 21.

145] With the help of a Regency slang dictionary the "flash" of this stanza has been translated as follows:
ken: a house that harbours thieves;
spellken: the playhouse;
queer a flat: confound a gull;
high toby-spice: robbery on horseback;
flash the muzzle: swagger openly;
blowing: pickpocket's trull;
nutty: pleased with the opposite sex.

162] lucus from no light: in Latin "lucus" can mean both a thick wood (or grove) and light, i.e., both darkness and light.

171] "purl": "a medicated malt liquor" (Moore).

198] Mansion House: official residence of the Lord Mayor.

207] new-found lantern. During the French Revolution the lantern or street lamp was used as an improvised gallows.

232] "Hells": gaming-houses.

236] Paphians: attendants of Venus (Paphos in Cyprus was the site of an ancient temple to Aphrodite).

239] Useful, like Malthus, in promoting marriage. The Essay on the Principle of Population (1798) of Thomas Robert Malthus was one of the most controversial works of the age. He saw war and famine as nature's means of preventing population from outrunning the supply of goods, but also advocated continence and fewer marriages as a means of birth control among the poor. Hence he was about as useful a supporter of marriage as a "Paphian" whore.

276] govern in the mood potential: i.e., govern as placemen or office-holders, not as Parliamentary members of the government ("mood potential" being a grammatical pun).

303] the good example of "Green Erin." George IV visited Ireland in 1820 and was given an extravagant welcome.

337] rather Attic: having the purity of classical Greek.

385] "drapery Misses." "It means a pretty, a highborn, a fashionable young female, well instructed by her friends, and furnished by her milliner with a wardrobe upon credit, to be repaid, when married, by the husband" (Byron's note).

402] Drawcansir: the name of a braggart in Villiers' The Rehearsal (1671).

407] Hippocrene: see note on I, ccv.

414] "Hercules Furens": a play by the Roman dramatist, Seneca.

427] Banquo's glass: see Macbeth, IV, i, 112-24.

441] Faliero. Byron's play Marino Faliero was not intended for the stage and failed when it was performed against his wish at Drury Lane in April and May, 1821.

442] Cain. Byron's Cain (1821), which he called a "mystery" play, was much criticized for its "blasphemies."
Leipsic ... Mont Saint Jean ... La Belle Alliance. Leipsig and Waterloo (a farmhouse called Mont St. Jean was on the battlefield) were two of Napoleon's most crucial defeats. "La Belle Alliance was the farmhouse in which Blücher and Wellington met and saluted each other as victors after the tide of battle had turned at Waterloo" (W. W. Pratt's note).

448] turncoat Southey: see note on Dedication, i.
turnkey Lowe. "Sir Hudson Lowe was governor of St. Helena during Napoleon's exile" (W. W. Pratt's note).

454] the very Reverend Rowley Powley: the Rev. George Croly (1780-1860), a minor but prolific poet, fond of imitating Byron's work and known as "Cambyses" Croly for his bombastic manner.

456] "by the hilts": see I Henry IV, iv, 233.

457] The victim of this attack is Henry Hart Milman (1791-1868), author of The Fall of Jerusalem (hence "the howling Hebrews") and a Quarterly reviewer disliked by Byron. Some of Byron's allusions are obscure, but for Sporus see Pope's Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot, 305-33 and note, and for "Cambyses' roaring Romans" see note on stanza lvii above (Coly wrote a play called Catiline). The Asiatic and Athenian goddess "Cybele's priests" were eunuchs.

465] my gentle Euphues: Bryan Waller Procter, "Barry Comwall" (1787-1874), author of Diego de Montilla, a poem which Francis Jeffrey in the Edinburgh Review thought to resemble Don Juan, but with "no profligacy" and "no mocking of virtue and honour." Euphues is the hero of an Elizabethan prose romance by John Lyly and gave his name to the "Euphuistic" style. But Byron seems to be confusung his terms and thinking of Procter's poem as a sort of "euphemistic" Don Juan.

471] Boeotian. The Athenians thought the people of Boeotia boorish and dull.

473] Keats may have been deeply affected by the slashing review of Endymion in the Quarterly Review of April 1818, but that it was instrumental in his death is an exploded legend. Byron seems to have acquired the notion from Shelley, who used it in the Preface to Adonais as well as in the poem itself.

487-88] the thirty mock tyrants: the thirty pretenders to the throne in the reign of Gallienus in the third century.

490] praetorian bands: the Roman emperor's guard, whose political power in the days of the empire's decline gave them control over the succession to the throne, which might even be offered to the highest bidder.

495] Janizaries: the Turkish standing army and sultan's guard.

516] Centaur-Nessus garb. The blood-poisoned garment of Nessus the Centaur was sent to Hercules by his wife for its supposed power of winning back his love. Instead the agony of wearing it led to Hercules' death on a pyre.

533] Chalk mimics painting. Chalk drawings on the floor were characteristic of Regency ballrooms on special occasions.

536] "Or Molu": gilded bronze.

590] "rack and manger." The modern equivalent is "rack and ruin."

601] "Where is the World," cries Young, "at eighty?" Edward Young (1683-1765), author of the once famous Night Thoughts, wrote this phrase at eighty in a poem called Resignation.

611] Grattan, Curran, Sheridan. Henry Grattan, John Philpot Curran, and Richard Brinsley Sheridan (the dramatist) were Whig M.P.'s and Irishmen, who died in 1820, 1817, and 1816.

613-14] The unhappy Queen ... the Daughter. Queen Caroline, tried for unfidelity in 1820, died in 1821; her daughter, Princess Charlotte, had died in childbirth in 1817.

617] Brummell ... Long Pole Wellesley: George "Beau" Brummell, bankrupt Regency fashion-plate, now in exile from his creditors, and William Pole Tylney Long Wellesley (Wellington's nephew), fashionable wastrel on the verge of bankruptcy.

618] Whitbread? Romilly? Samuel Whitbread, Whig M.P., committed suicide in 1815 and Sir Samuel Romilly, who had earned Byron's enmity by being his wife's legal adviser, in 1818.

619] Where is his will? George III's unsigned will was the cause of much dispute.

620] "Fum" the Fourth, our "royal bird." George IV's popular nickname was "Hum," an apartment of the Brighton Pavilion contained an ornament called "Fum, the Chinese Bird of Royalty," and Moore had written a satire called "Fum and Hum, the Two Birds of Royalty."

621] to Scotland. George IV visited Scotland in 1822.

623] Caw: claw or scratch.

631] Where are the Grenvilles? Turned as usual. Byron saw William Wyndham, Baron Grenville (1759-1834) as an apostate from his early liberalism. Since Grenville's father had first supported and then broken with the elder Pitt, such changes seemed to run in the family.

633] Lady Carolines and Franceses. Lady Caroline Lamb and Lady Frances Webster, now estranged from their husbands, were two of the women in Byron's life between 1812 and 1814.

658] Duke: presumably the Duke of Wellington.

661] "blue Peter": the naval flag which signalizes immediate sailing.

666] Joanna Southcote: the ignorant founder of a fanatical sect, who (suffering from dropsy) announced that she was about to give birth to a second Shiloh (see Genesis 40:10).

668] sad affair of the late Queen: see note on stanza lxxvi above.

670] Congress doing all that's mean. The allied sovereigns, disturbed by the popular uprising in Spain, met in Verona in 1822.

675] the funds at war: the National Debt and the Sinking Fund which unsuccessfully attempted to reduce it.

677] I have seen the people ridden o'er. Byron apparently refers to the dispersal of a Reform gathering in St. Peter's Fields outside Manchester by troops on horseback on August 16, 1819 (the so-called Peterloo Massacre).

679] "thin potations": a means by which brewers might escape the malt tax; see II Henry IV, IV, iii, 133-36.

681] carpe diem: enjoy the present day (see Horace, Odes, I, xi, 8).

684] "Life's a poor player"--then "play out the play": see Macbeth, V, v, 24, and I Henry IV, II, iv, 539.

693] Atalantis: see Pope's Rape of the Lock, III, 165 and note.


Online text copyright © 2009, Ian Lancashire (the Department of English) and the University of Toronto.
Published by the Web Development Group, Information Technology Services, University of Toronto Libraries.

Original text: Byron, Works. 17 vols. London: John Murray, 1832-33. PR 4351 M6 1832 ROBA
First publication date: 1823
RPO poem editor: M. T. Wilson
RP edition: 3RP 2.540.
Recent editing: 2:2002/1/10

Composition date: 1822
Rhyme: abababcc


Other poems by George Gordon Lord Byron