The Works of Lord Byron Volume VI Part 122

Love's riotous, but Marriage should have quiet, And being consumptive, live on a milk diet.

XLII.

And then there was the Miss Audacia Shoestring, A das.h.i.+ng _demoiselle_ of good estate, Whose heart was fixed upon a star or blue string; But whether English Dukes grew rare of late, Or that she had not harped upon the true string, By which such Sirens can attract our great, She took up with some foreign younger brother, A Russ or Turk--the one's as good as t' other.

XLIII.

And then there was--but why should I go on, Unless the ladies should go off?--there was Indeed a certain fair and fairy one, Of the best cla.s.s, and better than her cla.s.s,-- Aurora Raby, a young star who shone O'er Life, too sweet an image for such gla.s.s, A lovely being, scarcely formed or moulded, A rose with all its sweetest leaves yet folded;

XLIV.

Rich, n.o.ble, but an orphan--left an only Child to the care of guardians good and kind-- But still her aspect had an air so lonely; Blood is not water; and where shall we find Feelings of Youth like those which overthrown lie By Death, when we are left, alas! behind, To feel, in friendless palaces, a home Is wanting, and our best ties in the tomb?

XLV.

Early in years, and yet more infantine In figure, she had something of Sublime In eyes which sadly shone, as Seraphs' s.h.i.+ne.

All Youth--but with an aspect beyond Time; Radiant and grave--as pitying Man's decline; Mournful--but mournful of another's crime, She looked as if she sat by Eden's door, And grieved for those who could return no more.

XLVI.

She was a Catholic, too, sincere, austere, As far as her own gentle heart allowed, And deemed that fallen wors.h.i.+p far more dear Perhaps because 't was fallen: her Sires were proud Of deeds and days when they had filled the ear Of nations, and had never bent or bowed To novel power; and as she was the last, She held their old faith and old feelings fast.

XLVII.

She gazed upon a World she scarcely knew, As seeking not to know it; silent, lone, As grows a flower, thus quietly she grew, And kept her heart serene within its zone.

There was awe in the homage which she drew; Her Spirit seemed as seated on a throne Apart from the surrounding world, and strong In its own strength--most strange in one so young!

XLVIII.

Now it so happened, in the catalogue Of Adeline, Aurora was omitted, Although her birth and wealth had given her vogue, Beyond the charmers we have already cited; Her beauty also seemed to form no clog Against her being mentioned as well fitted, By many virtues, to be worth the trouble Of single gentlemen who would be double.

XLIX.

And this omission, like that of the bust Of Brutus at the pageant of Tiberius,[750]

Made Juan wonder, as no doubt he must.

This he expressed half smiling and half serious; When Adeline replied with some disgust, And with an air, to say the least, imperious, She marvelled "what he saw in such a baby As that prim, silent, cold Aurora Raby?"

L.

Juan rejoined--"She was a Catholic, And therefore fittest, as of his persuasion; Since he was sure his mother would fall sick, And the Pope thunder excommunication, If--" But here Adeline, who seemed to pique Herself extremely on the inoculation Of others with her own opinions, stated-- As usual--the same reason which she late did.

LI.

And wherefore not? A reasonable reason, If good, is none the worse for repet.i.tion; If bad, the best way's certainly to tease on, And amplify: you lose much by concision, Whereas insisting in or out of season Convinces all men, even a politician; Or--what is just the same--it wearies out.

So the end's gained, what signifies the route?

LII.

_Why_ Adeline had this slight prejudice-- For prejudice it was--against a creature As pure, as Sanct.i.ty itself, from Vice,-- With all the added charm of form and feature,-- For me appears a question far too nice, Since Adeline was liberal by nature; But Nature's Nature, and has more caprices Than I have time, or will, to take to pieces.

LIII.

Perhaps she did not like the quiet way With which Aurora on those baubles looked, Which charm most people in their earlier day: For there are few things by Mankind less brooked, And Womankind too, if we so may say, Than finding thus their genius stand rebuked, Like "Antony's by Caesar,"[751] by the few Who look upon them as they ought to do.

LIV.

It was not envy--Adeline had none; Her place was far beyond it, and her mind: It was not scorn--which could not light on one Whose greatest _fault_ was leaving few to find: It was not jealousy, I think--but shun Following the _ignes fatui_ of Mankind: It was not----but 't is easier far, alas!

To say what it was _not_ than what it was.

LV.

Little Aurora deemed she was the theme Of such discussion. She was there a guest; A beauteous ripple of the brilliant stream Of Rank and Youth, though purer than the rest, Which flowed on for a moment in the beam Time sheds a moment o'er each sparkling crest.

Had she known this, she would have calmly smiled-- She had so much, or little, of the child.

LVI.

The das.h.i.+ng and proud air of Adeline Imposed not upon her: she saw her blaze Much as she would have seen a glow-worm s.h.i.+ne, Then turned unto the stars for loftier rays.

Juan was something she could not divine, Being no Sibyl in the new world's ways; Yet she was nothing dazzled by the meteor, Because she did not pin her faith on feature.

LVII.

His fame too,--for he had that kind of fame Which sometimes plays the deuce with Womankind, A heterogeneous ma.s.s of glorious blame, Half virtues and whole vices being combined; Faults which attract because they are not tame; Follies tricked out so brightly that they blind:-- These seals upon her wax made no impression, Such was her coldness or her self-possession.

LVIII.

Juan knew nought of such a character-- High, yet resembling not his lost Haidee; Yet each was radiant in her proper sphere: The island girl, bred up by the lone sea, More warm, as lovely, and not less sincere, Was Nature's all: Aurora could not be, Nor would be thus:--the difference in them Was such as lies between a flower and gem.

LIX.

Having wound up with this sublime comparison, Methinks we may proceed upon our narrative, And, as my friend Scott says, "I sound my warison;"[752]

Scott, the superlative of my comparative-- Scott, who can paint your Christian knight or Saracen, Serf--Lord--Man, with such skill as none would share it, if There had not been one Shakespeare and Voltaire, Of one or both of whom he seems the heir.[nw]

LX.

I say, in my slight way I may proceed To play upon the surface of Humanity.

I write the World, nor care if the World read, At least for this I cannot spare its vanity.

My Muse hath bred, and still perhaps may breed More foes by this same scroll: when I began it, I Thought that it might turn out so--_now I know it_,[753]

But still I am, or was, a pretty poet.

LXI.

The conference or congress (for it ended As Congresses of late do) of the Lady Adeline and Don Juan rather blended Some acids with the sweets--for she was heady; But, ere the matter could be marred or mended, The silvery bell rang, not for "dinner ready,"

But for that hour, called half-hour, given to dress, Though ladies' robes seem scant enough for less.

LXII.

Great things were now to be achieved at table, With ma.s.sy plate for armour, knives and forks For weapons; but what Muse since Homer's able (His feasts are not the worst part of his works) To draw up in array a single day-bill Of modern dinners? where more mystery lurks, In soups or sauces, or a sole _ragout_, Than witches, b--ches, or physicians, brew.

LXIII.