CXXXVIII
It teaches them that they are flesh and blood,
It also gently hints to them that others,
Although of clay, are yet not quite of mud;
That urns and pipkins are but fragile brothers,
And works of the same pottery, bad or good,
Though not all born of the same sires and mothers;
It teaches—Heaven knows only what it teaches,
But sometimes it may mend, and often reaches.
CXXXIX
Her first thought was to cut off Juan’s head;
Her second, to cut only his—acquaintance;
Her third, to ask him where he had been bred;
Her fourth, to rally him into repentance;
Her fifth, to call her maids and go to bed;
Her sixth, to stab herself; her seventh, to sentence
The lash to Baba:—but her grand resource
Was to sit down again, and cry—of course.
CXL
She thought to stab herself, but then she had
The dagger close at hand, which made it awkward;
For Eastern stays are little made to pad,
So that a poniard pierces if ’tis struck hard:
She thought of killing Juan—but, poor lad!
Though he deserved it well for being so backward,
The cutting off his head was not the art
Most likely to attain her aim—his heart.
CXLI
Juan was moved: he had made up his mind
To be impaled, or quartered as a dish
For dogs, or to be slain with pangs refined,
Or thrown to lions, or made baits for fish,
And thus heroically stood resigned,
Rather than sin—except to his own wish:
But all his great preparatives for dying
Dissolved like snow before a woman crying.
CXLII
As through his palms Bob Acres’ valour oozed,495
So Juan’s virtue ebbed, I know not how;
And first he wondered why he had refused;
And then, if matters could be made up now;
And next his savage virtue he accused,
Just as a friar may accuse his vow,
Or as a dame repents her of her oath,
Which mostly ends in some small breach of both.
CXLIII
So he began to stammer some excuses;
But words are not enough in such a matter,
Although you borrowed all that e’er the Muses
Have sung, or even a Dandy’s dandiest chatter,
Or all the figures Castlereagh abuses;496
Just as a languid smile began to flatter
His peace was making, but, before he ventured
Further, old Baba rather briskly entered.
CXLIV
“Bride of the Sun! and Sister of the Moon!”
(’Twas thus he spake,) “and Empress of the Earth!
Whose frown would put the spheres all out of tune,
Whose smile makes all the planets dance with mirth,
Your slave brings tidings—he hopes not too soon—
Which your sublime attention may be worth:
The Sun himself has sent me like a ray,
To hint that he is coming up this way.”
CXLV
“Is it,” exclaimed Gulbeyaz, “as you say?
I wish to heaven he would not shine till morning!
But bid my women form the milky way.
Hence, my old comet! give the stars due warning—497
And, Christian! mingle with them as you may,
And as you’d have me pardon your past scorning—”
Here they were interrupted by a humming
Sound, and then by a cry, “The Sultan’s coming!”
CXLVI
First came her damsels, a decorous file,
And then his Highness’ eunuchs, black and white;
The train might reach a quarter of a mile:
His Majesty was always so polite
As to announce his visits a long while
Before he came, especially at night;
For being the last wife of the Emperor,
She was of course the favourite of the four.
CXLVII
His Highness was a man of solemn port,
Shawled to the nose, and bearded to the eyes,
Snatched from a prison to preside at court,
His lately bowstrung brother caused his rise;
He was as good a sovereign of the sort
As any mentioned in the histories
Of Cantemir, or Knōllěs, where few shine498
Save Solyman, the glory of their line.499
CXLVIII
He went to mosque in state, and said his prayers
With more than “Oriental scrupulosity;”500
He left to his vizier all state affairs,
And showed but little royal curiosity:
I know not if he had domestic cares—
No process proved connubial animosity;
Four wives and twice five hundred maids, unseen,
Were ruled as calmly as a Christian queen.501
CXLIX
If now and then there happened a slight slip,
Little was heard of criminal or crime;
The story scarcely passed a single lip—
The sack and sea had settled all in time,
From which the secret nobody could rip:
The public knew no more than does this rhyme;
No scandals made the daily press a curse—
Morals were better, and the fish no worse.502
CL
He saw with his own eyes the moon was round,
Was also certain that the earth was square,
Because he had journeyed fifty miles, and found
No sign that it was circular anywhere;503
His empire also was without a bound:
’Tis true, a little troubled here and there,
By rebel pachas, and encroaching giaours,
But then they never came to “the Seven Towers;”504
CLI
Except in shape of envoys, who were sent
To lodge there when a war broke out, according
To the true law of nations, which ne’er meant
Those scoundrels, who have never had a sword in
Their dirty diplomatic hands, to vent
Their spleen in making strife, and safely wording
Their lies, yclept despatches, without risk or
The singeing of a single inky whisker.
CLII
He had fifty daughters and four dozen sons,
Of whom all such as came of age were stowed,
The former in a palace, where like nuns
They lived till some Bashaw was sent abroad,
When she, whose turn it was, was wed at once,
Sometimes at six years old505—though this seems odd,
’Tis true; the reason is, that the Bashaw
Must make a present to his sire-in-law.
CLIII
His sons were kept in prison, till they grew
Of years to fill a bowstring or the throne,
One or the other, but which of the two
Could yet be known unto
