The truth in masquerade; and I defy883
Historians—heroes—lawyers—priests, to put
A fact without some leaven of a lie.
The very shadow of true Truth would shut
Up annals—revelations—poesy,
And prophecy—except it should be dated
Some years before the incidents related.
XXXVIII
Praised be all liars and all lies! Who now
Can tax my mild Muse with misanthropy?
She rings the World’s “Te Deum,” and her brow
Blushes for those who will not:—but to sigh
Is idle; let us like most others bow,
Kiss hands—feet—any part of Majesty,
After the good example of “Green Erin,”884
Whose shamrock now seems rather worse for wearing.885
XXXIX
Don Juan was presented, and his dress
And mien excited general admiration—
I don’t know which was more admired or less:
One monstrous diamond drew much observation,
Which Catherine in a moment of “ivresse”
(In Love or Brandy’s fervent fermentation),
Bestowed upon him, as the public learned;
And, to say truth, it had been fairly earned.
XL
Besides the ministers and underlings,
Who must be courteous to the accredited
Diplomatists of rather wavering Kings,
Until their royal riddle’s fully read,
The very clerks—those somewhat dirty springs
Of Office, or the House of Office, fed
By foul corruption into streams—even they
Were hardly rude enough to earn their pay:
XLI
And insolence no doubt is what they are
Employed for, since it is their daily labour,
In the dear offices of Peace or War;
And should you doubt, pray ask of your next neighbour,
When for a passport, or some other bar
To freedom, he applied (a grief and a bore),
If he found not this spawn of tax-born riches,
Like lap-dogs, the least civil sons of b⸺s.
XLII
But Juan was received with much “empressement:”—
These phrases of refinement I must borrow
From our next neighbours’ land, where, like a chessman,
There is a move set down for joy or sorrow,
Not only in mere talking, but the press. Man
In Islands is, it seems, downright and thorough,
More than on Continents—as if the Sea
(See Billingsgate) made even the tongue more free.
XLIII
And yet the British “Damme” ’s rather Attic,
Your continental oaths are but incontinent,
And turn on things which no aristocratic
Spirit would name, and therefore even I won’t anent886
This subject quote; as it would be schismatic
In politesse, and have a sound affronting in’t;—
But “Damme” ’s quite ethereal, though too daring—
Platonic blasphemy—the soul of swearing.887
XLIV
For downright rudeness, ye may stay at home;
For true or false politeness (and scarce that
Now) you may cross the blue deep and white foam—
The first the emblem (rarely though) of what
You leave behind, the next of much you come
To meet. However, ’tis no time to chat
On general topics: poems must confine
Themselves to unity, like this of mine.888
XLV
In the great world—which, being interpreted,
Meaneth the West or worst end of a city,
And about twice two thousand people bred
By no means to be very wise or witty,
But to sit up while others lie in bed,
And look down on the Universe with pity—
Juan, as an inveterate patrician,
Was well received by persons of condition.
XLVI
He was a bachelor, which is a matter
Of import both to virgin and to bride,
The former’s hymeneal hopes to flatter;
And (should she not hold fast by Love or Pride)
’Tis also of some moment to the latter:
A rib’s a thorn in a wed gallant’s side,
Requires decorum, and is apt to double
The horrid sin—and what’s still worse, the trouble.
XLVII
But Juan was a bachelor—of arts,
And parts, and hearts: he danced and sung, and had
An air as sentimental as Mozart’s
Softest of melodies; and could be sad
Or cheerful, without any “flaws or starts,”889
Just at the proper time: and though a lad,
Had seen the world—which is a curious sight,
And very much unlike what people write.
XLVIII
Fair virgins blushed upon him; wedded dames
Bloomed also in less transitory hues;890
For both commodities dwell by the Thames,
The painting and the painted; Youth, Ceruse,891
Against his heart preferred their usual claims,
Such as no gentleman can quite refuse:
Daughters admired his dress, and pious mothers
Inquired his income, and if he had brothers.
XLIX
The milliners who furnish “drapery Misses”892
Throughout the season, upon speculation
Of payment ere the Honeymoon’s last kisses
Have waned into a crescent’s coruscation,
Thought such an opportunity as this is,
Of a rich foreigner’s initiation,
Not to be overlooked—and gave such credit,
That future bridegrooms swore, and sighed, and paid it.
L
The Blues, that tender tribe, who sigh o’er sonnets,
And with the pages of the last Review
Line the interior of their heads or bonnets,
Advanced in all their azure’s highest hue:
They talked bad French or Spanish, and upon its
Late authors asked him for a hint or two;
And which was softest, Russian or Castilian?
And whether in his travels he saw Ilion?
LI
Juan, who was a little superficial,
And not in literature a great Drawcansir,893
Examined by this learnèd and especial
Jury of matrons, scarce knew what to answer:
His duties warlike, loving or official,
His steady application as a dancer,
Had kept him from the brink of Hippocrene,
Which now he found was blue instead of green.
LII
However, he replied at hazard, with
A modest confidence and calm assurance,
Which lent his learnèd lucubrations pith,
And passed for arguments of good endurance.
That prodigy, Miss Araminta Smith
(Who at sixteen translated “Hercules Furens”
Into as furious English), with her best look,
Set down his sayings in her common-place book.
LIII
Juan knew several languages—as well
He might—and brought them up with skill, in time
To save his fame with each accomplished belle,
Who still regretted that he did not rhyme.
There wanted but this requisite to swell
His qualities (with them) into sublime:
Lady Fitz-Frisky, and Miss Maevia Mannish,
Both longed extremely to be sung in Spanish.
LIV
However, he did pretty well, and was
Admitted
