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(From Don Juan: Canto I. 1819)
CIV T WAS on the sixth of June, about the hour | |
Of half-past sixperhaps still nearer seven | |
When Julia sate within as pretty a bower | |
As eer held houri in that heathenish heaven | |
Described by Mahomet, and Anacreon Moore, | 5 |
To whom the lyre and laurels have been given, | |
With all the trophies of triumphant song | |
He won them well, and may he wear them long! | |
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CV She sate, but not alone; I know not well | |
How this same interview had taken place, | 10 |
And even if I knew, I shall not tell | |
People should hold their tongues in any case; | |
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, | 15 |
But very difficult, to shut their eyes. | |
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CVI How beautiful she looked! her conscious heart | |
Glowed in her cheek, and yet she felt no wrong. | |
Oh Love! how perfect is thy mystic art, | |
Strengthening the weak, and trampling on the strong! | 20 |
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. | |
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CVII She thought of her own strength, and Juans youth, | 25 |
And of the folly of all prudish fears, | |
Victorious virtue, and domestic truth, | |
And then of Don Alfonsos fifty years: | |
I wish these last had not occurred, in sooth, | |
Because that number rarely much endears, | 30 |
And through all climes, the snowy and the sunny, | |
Sounds ill in love, whateer it may in money. * * * * * | |
CXI The hand which still held Juans, by degrees | |
Gently, but palpably confirmed its grasp, | |
As if it said, Detain me, if you please; | 35 |
Yet theres no doubt she only meant to clasp | |
His fingers with a pure Platonic squeeze; | |
She would have shrunk as from a toad, or asp, | |
Had she imagined such a thing could rouse | |
A feeling dangerous to a prudent spouse. | 40 |
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CXII I cannot know what Juan thought of this, | |
But what he did, is much what you would do; | |
His young lip thanked it with a grateful kiss, | |
And then, abashed at its own joy, withdrew | |
In deep despair, lest he had done amiss, | 45 |
Love is so very timid when t is new: | |
She blushed, and frowned not, but she strove to speak, | |
And held her tongue, her voice was grown so weak. * * * * * | |
CXV And Julia sate with Juan, half embraced | |
And half retiring from the glowing arm, | 50 |
Which trembled like the bosom where t was placed; | |
Yet still she must have thought there was no harm, | |
Or else t were easy to withdraw her waist; | |
But then the situation had its charm, | |
And thenGod knows what nextI cant go on; | 55 |
Im almost sorry that I eer begun. * * * * * | |
CXXXVI T was midnightDonna Julia was in bed, | |
Sleeping, most probably,when at her door | |
Arose a clatter might awake the dead, | |
If they had never been awoke before, | 60 |
And that they have been so we all have read, | |
And are to be so, at the least, once more; | |
The door was fastened, but with voice and fist | |
First knocks were heard, then MadamMadamhist! | |
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CXXXVII For Gods sake, MadamMadamhere s my master, | 65 |
With more than half the city at his back | |
Was ever heard of such a curst disaster! | |
T is not my faultI kept good watchAlack! | |
Do pray undo the bolt a little faster | |
They re on the stair just now, and in a crack | 70 |
Will all be here; perhaps he yet may fly | |
Surely the windows not so very high! * * * * * | |
CXXXIX I cant tell how, or why, or what suspicion | |
Could enter into Don Alfonsos head; | |
But for a cavalier of his condition | 75 |
It surely was exceedingly ill-bred, | |
Without a word of previous admonition, | |
To hold a levee round his ladys bed, | |
And summon lackeys, armed with fire and sword, | |
To prove himself the thing he most abhorred. | 80 |
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CXL Poor Donna Julia! starting as from sleep, | |
(Mindthat I do not sayshe had not slept), | |
Began at once to scream, and yawn, and weep; | |
Her maid, Antonia, who was an adept, | |
Contrived to fling the bed-clothes in a heap, | 85 |
As if she had just now from out them crept: | |
I cant tell why she should take all this trouble | |
To prove her mistress had been sleeping double. * * * * * | |
CXLII Now Julia found at length a voice, and cried, | |
In Heavens name, Don Alfonso, what dye mean? | 90 |
Has madness seized you? would that I had died | |
Ere such a monsters victim I had been! | |
What may this midnight violence betide, | |
A sudden fit of drunkenness or spleen? | |
Dare you suspect me, whom the thought would kill? | 95 |
Search, then, the room!Alfonso said, I will. * * * * * | |
CXLIV Under the bed they searched, and there they found | |
No matter whatit was not what they sought; | |
They opened windows, gazing if the ground | |
Had signs of footmarks, but the earth said nought; | 100 |
And then they stared each others faces round: | |
T is odd, not one of all these seekers thought, | |
And seems to me almost a sort of blunder, | |
Of looking in the bed as well as under. | |
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CXLV During this inquisition Julias tongue | 105 |
Was not asleepYes, search and search, she cried, | |
Insult on insult heap, and wrong on wrong! | |
It was for this that I became a bride! | |
For this in silence I have suffered long | |
A husband like Alfonso at my side; | 110 |
But now Ill bear no more, nor here remain, | |
If there be law or lawyers in all Spain. * * * * * | |
CLIII There is the closet, there the toilet, there | |
The antechambersearch them under, over; | |
There is the sofa, there the great arm-chair, | 115 |
The chimneywhich would really hold a lover. | |
I wish to sleep, and beg you will take care | |
And make no further noise, till you discover | |
The secret cavern of this lurking treasure | |
And when t is found, let me, too, have that pleasure. | 120 |
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CLIV And now, Hidalgo! now that you have thrown | |
Doubt upon me, confusion over all, | |
Pray have the courtesy to make it known | |
Who is the man you search for? how d ye call | |
Him? what s his lineage? let him but be shown | 125 |
I hope he s young and handsomeis he tall? | |
Tell meand be assured, that since you stain | |
My honour thus, it shall not be in vain. * * * * * | |
CLVIII She ceased, and turned upon her pillow; pale | |
She lay, her dark eyes flashing through their tears, | 130 |
Like skies that rain and lighten; as a veil, | |
Waved and oershading her wan cheek, appears | |
Her streaming hair; the black curls strive, but fail, | |
To hide the glossy shoulder, which uprears | |
Its snow through all;her soft lips lie apart, | 135 |
And louder than her breathing beats her heart. * * * * * | |
CLXI But Don Alfonso stood with downcast looks, | |
And, truth to say, he made a foolish figure; | |
When, after searching in five hundred nooks, | |
And treating a young wife with so much rigour, | 140 |
He gained no point, except some self-rebukes, | |
Added to those his lady with such vigour | |
Had poured upon him for the last half hour, | |
Quick, thick, and heavyas a thunder-shower. * * * * * | |
CLXIII He stood in act to speak, or rather stammer, | 145 |
But sage Antonia cut him short before | |
The anvil of his speech received the hammer, | |
With Pray, sir, leave the room, and say no more, | |
Or madam dies.Alfonso muttered, Dn her. | |
But nothing else, the time of words was oer; | 150 |
He cast a rueful look or two, and did, | |
He knew not wherefore, that which he was bid. | |
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CLXIV With him retired his posse comitatus, | |
The attorney last, who lingered near the door | |
Reluctantly, still tarrying there as late as | 155 |
Antonia let himnot a little sore | |
At this most strange and unexplained hiatus | |
In Don Alfonsos facts, which just now wore | |
An awkward look; as he resolved the case, | |
The door was fastened in his legal face. | 160 |
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CLXV No sooner was it bolted, thanOh shame! | |
Oh sin! Oh sorrow, and Oh womankind! | |
How can you do such things and keep your fame, | |
Unless this world, and t other too, be blind? | |
Nothing so dear as an unfilched good name! | 165 |
But to proceedfor there is more behind: | |
With much heartfelt reluctance be it said, | |
Young Juan slipped, half-smothered, from the bed. | |
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CLXVI He had been hidI dont pretend to say | |
How, nor can I indeed describe the where | 170 |
Young, slender, and packed easily, he lay, | |
No doubt, in little compass, round or square; | |
But pity him I neither must nor may | |
His suffocation by that pretty pair; | |
T were better, sure, to die so, than be shut | 175 |
With maudlin Clarence in his Malmsey butt. | |
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CLXVII And, secondly, I pity not, because | |
He had no business to commit a sin, | |
Forbid by heavenly, fined by human laws, | |
At least t was rather early to begin; | 180 |
But at sixteen the conscience rarely gnaws | |
So much as when we call our old debts in | |
At sixty years, and draw the accompts of evil, | |
And find a deuced balance with the devil. | |
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CLXVIII Of his position I can give no notion: | 185 |
T is written in the Hebrew Chronicle, | |
How the physicians, leaving pill and potion, | |
Prescribed, by way of blister, a young belle, | |
When old King Davids blood grew dull in motion, | |
And that the medicine answered very well; | 190 |
Perhaps t was in a different way applied, | |
For David lived, but Juan nearly died. * * * * * | |
CLXX He turned his lip to hers, and with his hand | |
Called back the tangles of her wandering hair; | |
Even then their love they could not all command, | 195 |
And half forgot their danger and despair: | |
Antonias patience now was at a stand | |
Come, come, t is no time now for fooling there, | |
She whispered, in great wrathI must deposit | |
This pretty gentleman within the closet: | 200 |
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CLXXI Pray, keep your nonsense for some luckier night | |
Who can have put my master in this mood? | |
What will become on tI m in such a fright, | |
The devils in the urchin, and no good | |
Is this a time for giggling? this a plight? | 205 |
Why, dont you know that it may end in blood? | |
You ll lose your life, and I shall lose my place, | |
My mistress all, for that half-girlish face. | |
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CLXXII Had it but been for a stout cavalier | |
Of twenty-five or thirty(come, make haste) | 210 |
But for a child, what piece of work is here! | |
I really, madam, wonder at your taste | |
(Come, sir, get in)my master must be near: | |
There, for the present, at the least, he s fast, | |
And if we can but till the morning keep | 215 |
Our counsel(Juan, mind, you must not sleep). | |
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