LXVIII
Those truffles too are no bad accessaries,
Followed by “petits puits d’amour”—a dish
Of which perhaps the cookery rather varies,
So every one may dress it to his wish,
According to the best of dictionaries,
Which encyclopedize both flesh and fish;
But even, sans confitures, it no less true is,
There’s pretty picking in those petits puits.1144
LXIX
The mind is lost in mighty contemplation
Of intellect expanded on two courses;
And Indigestion’s grand multiplication
Requires arithmetic beyond my forces.
Who would suppose, from Adam’s simple ration,
That cookery could have called forth such resources,
As form a science and a nomenclature
From out the commonest demands of Nature?
LXX
The glasses jingled, and the palates tingled;
The diners of celebrity dined well;
The ladies with more moderation mingled
In the feast, pecking less than I can tell;
Also the younger men too: for a springald
Can’t, like ripe Age, in gourmandise excel,
But thinks less of good eating than the whisper
(When seated next him) of some pretty lisper.
LXXI
Alas! I must leave undescribed the gibier,
The salmi, the consommé, the purée,
All which I use to make my rhymes run glibber
Than could roast beef in our rough John Bull way:
I must not introduce even a spare rib here,
“Bubble and squeak” would spoil my liquid lay:
But I have dined, and must forego, alas!
The chaste description even of a “bécasse;”
LXXII
And fruits, and ice, and all that Art refines
From Nature for the service of the goût—
Taste or the gout—pronounce it as inclines
Your stomach! Ere you dine, the French will do;
But after, there are sometimes certain signs
Which prove plain English truer of the two.
Hast ever had the gout? I have not had it—
But I may have, and you too, reader, dread it.
LXXIII
The simple olives, best allies of wine,
Must I pass over in my bill of fare?
I must, although a favourite plat of mine
In Spain, and Lucca, Athens, everywhere:
On them and bread ’twas oft my luck to dine—
The grass my table-cloth, in open air,
On Sunium or Hymettus, like Diogenes,
Of whom half my philosophy the progeny is.1145
LXXIV
Amidst this tumult of fish, flesh, and fowl,
And vegetables, all in masquerade,
The guests were placed according to their roll,
But various as the various meats displayed:
Don Juan sat next an “à l’Espagnole”—
No damsel, but a dish, as hath been said;1146
But so far like a lady, that ’twas drest
Superbly, and contained a world of zest.
LXXV
By some odd chance too, he was placed between
Aurora and the Lady Adeline—
A situation difficult, I ween,
For man therein, with eyes and heart, to dine.
Also the conference which we have seen
Was not such as to encourage him to shine,
For Adeline, addressing few words to him,
With two transcendent eyes seemed to look through him.
LXXVI
I sometimes almost think that eyes have ears:
This much is sure, that, out of earshot, things
Are somehow echoed to the pretty dears,
Of which I can’t tell whence their knowledge springs.
Like that same mystic music of the spheres,
Which no one hears, so loudly though it rings,
’Tis wonderful how oft the sex have heard
Long dialogues—which passed without a word!
LXXVII
Aurora sat with that indifference
Which piques a preux chevalier—as it ought:
Of all offences that’s the worst offence,
Which seems to hint you are not worth a thought.
Now Juan, though no coxcomb in pretence,
Was not exactly pleased to be so caught;
Like a good ship entangled among ice—
And after so much excellent advice.
LXXVIII
To his gay nothings, nothing was replied,
Or something which was nothing, as Urbanity
Required. Aurora scarcely looked aside,
Nor even smiled enough for any vanity.
The Devil was in the girl! Could it be pride?
Or modesty, or absence, or inanity?
Heaven knows! But Adeline’s malicious eyes
Sparkled with her successful prophecies,
LXXIX
And looked as much as if to say, “I said it;”
A kind of triumph I’ll not recommend,
Because it sometimes, as I have seen or read it,
Both in the case of lover and of friend,
Will pique a gentleman, for his own credit,
To bring what was a jest to a serious end:
For all men prophesy what is or was,
And hate those who won’t let them come to pass.
LXXX
Juan was drawn thus into some attentions,
Slight but select, and just enough to express,
To females of perspicuous comprehensions,
That he would rather make them more than less.
Aurora at the last (so history mentions,
Though probably much less a fact than guess)
So far relaxed her thoughts from their sweet prison,
As once or twice to smile, if not to listen.
LXXXI
From answering she began to question: this
With her was rare; and Adeline, who as yet
Thought her predictions went not much amiss,
Began to dread she’d thaw to a coquette—
So very difficult, they say, it is
To keep extremes from meeting, when once set
In motion; but she here too much refined—
Aurora’s spirit was not of that kind.
LXXXII
But Juan had a sort of winning way,
A proud humility, if such there be,
Which showed such deference to what females say,
As if each charming word were a decree.
His tact, too, tempered him from grave to gay,
And taught him when to be reserved or free:
He had the art of drawing people out,
Without their seeing what he was about.
LXXXIII
Aurora, who in her indifference
Confounded him in common with the crowd
Of flatterers, though she deemed he had more sense
Than whispering foplings, or than witlings loud—
Commenced1147 (from such slight things will great commence)
To feel that flattery which attracts the proud
Rather by deference than compliment,
And wins even by a delicate dissent.1148
LXXXIV
And then he had good looks;—that point was carried
Nem. con. amongst the women, which I grieve
To say leads oft to crim. con.
