I have no more time nor many words to spare.”
“At least,” said Juan, “sure I may inquire
The cause of this odd travesty?”—“Forbear,”
Said Baba, “to be curious; ’twill transpire,
No doubt, in proper place, and time, and season:
I have no authority to tell the reason.”
LXXV
“Then if I do,” said Juan, “I’ll be—”—“Hold!”
Rejoined the negro, “pray be not provoking;
This spirit’s well, but it may wax too bold,
And you will find us not too fond of joking.”
“What, sir!” said Juan, “shall it e’er be told
That I unsexed my dress?” But Baba, stroking
The things down, said, “Incense me, and I call
Those who will leave you of no sex at all.
LXXVI
“I offer you a handsome suit of clothes:
A woman’s, true; but then there is a cause
Why you should wear them.”—“What, though my soul loathes
The effeminate garb?”—thus, after a short pause,
Sighed Juan, muttering also some slight oaths,
“What the devil shall I do with all this gauze?”
Thus he profanely termed the finest lace
Which e’er set off a marriage-morning face.
LXXVII
And then he swore; and, sighing, on he slipped
A pair of trousers of flesh-coloured silk;465
Next with a virgin zone he was equipped,
Which girt a slight chemise as white as milk;
But tugging on his petticoat, he tripped,
Which—as we say—or as the Scotch say, whilk,466
(The rhyme obliges me to this; sometimes
Monarchs are less imperative than rhymes)—467
LXXVIII
Whilk, which (or what you please), was owing to
His garment’s novelty, and his being awkward:
And yet at last he managed to get through
His toilet, though no doubt a little backward:
The negro Baba helped a little too,
When some untoward part of raiment stuck hard;
And, wrestling both his arms into a gown,
He paused, and took a survey up and down.
LXXIX
One difficulty still remained—his hair
Was hardly long enough; but Baba found
So many false long tresses all to spare,
That soon his head was most completely crowned,
After the manner then in fashion there;
And this addition with such gems was bound
As suited the ensemble of his toilet,
While Baba made him comb his head and oil it.
LXXX
And now being femininely all arrayed,
With some small aid from scissors, paint, and tweezers,
He looked in almost all respects a maid,468
And Baba smilingly exclaimed, “You see, sirs,
A perfect transformation here displayed;
And now, then, you must come along with me, sirs,
That is—the Lady:” clapping his hands twice,
Four blacks were at his elbow in a trice.
LXXXI
“You, sir,” said Baba, nodding to the one,
“Will please to accompany those gentlemen
To supper; but you, worthy Christian nun,
Will follow me: no trifling, sir; for when
I say a thing, it must at once be done.
What fear you? think you this a lion’s den?
Why, ’tis a palace; where the truly wise
Anticipate the Prophet’s paradise.
LXXXII
“You fool! I tell you no one means you harm.”
“So much the better,” Juan said, “for them;
Else they shall feel the weight of this my arm,
Which is not quite so light as you may deem.
I yield thus far; but soon will break the charm,
If any take me for that which I seem:
So that I trust for every body’s sake,
That this disguise may lead to no mistake.”
LXXXIII
“Blockhead! come on, and see,” quoth Baba; while
Don Juan, turning to his comrade, who
Though somewhat grieved, could scarce forbear a smile
Upon the metamorphosis in view—
“Farewell!” they mutually exclaimed: “this soil
Seems fertile in adventures strange and new;
One’s turned half Mussulman, and one a maid,
By this old black enchanter’s unsought aid.”
LXXXIV
“Farewell!” said Juan: “should we meet no more,
I wish you a good appetite.”—“Farewell!”
Replied the other; “though it grieves me sore:
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.”
LXXXV
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 seemed as though they came upon a shrine,
For all was vast, still, fragrant, and divine.
LXXXVI
The giant door was broad, and bright, and high,
Of gilded bronze, and carved in curious guise;
Warriors thereon were battling furiously;
Here stalks the victor, there the vanquished lies;
There captives led in triumph droop the eye,
And in perspective many a squadron flies:
It seems the work of times before the line
Of Rome transplanted fell with Constantine.
LXXXVII
This massy portal stood at the wide close
Of a huge hall, and on its either side
Two little dwarfs, the least you could suppose,
Were sate, like ugly imps, as if allied
In mockery to the enormous gate which rose
O’er them in almost pyramidic pride:
The gate so splendid was in all its features,469
You never thought about those little creatures,
LXXXVIII
Until you nearly trod on them, and then
You started back in horror to survey
The wondrous hideousness of those small men,
Whose colour was not black, nor white, nor grey,
But an extraneous mixture, which no pen
Can trace, although perhaps the pencil may;
They were mis-shapen pygmies, deaf and dumb—
Monsters, who cost a no less monstrous sum.
LXXXIX
Their duty was—for they were strong, and though
They looked so little, did strong things at times—
To ope this door, which they could really do,
The hinges being as smooth as Rogers’ rhymes;
And now and then, with tough strings of the bow,
As is the custom of those Eastern climes,
To give some rebel Pacha a cravat—
For mutes are generally used for that.
XC
They spoke by signs—that is, not spoke at all;
And looking like two
