DON JUAN.

CANTO XVI.

I.

THE antique Persians taught three useful things,
To draw the bow, to ride, and speak the truth.
This was the mode of Cyrus, best of kings—
A mode adopted since by modern youth.
Bows have they, generally with two strings;
Horses they ride without remorse or ruth;
At speaking truth perhaps they are less clever,
But draw the long bow better now than ever.

II.

The cause of this effect, or this defect,

"For this effect defective comes by cause,"

Is what I have not leisure to inspect;

But this I must say in my own applause,

Of all the Muses that I recollect,

Whate'er may be her follies or her flaws

In some things, mine's beyond all contradiction

The most sincere that ever dealt in fiction.

III.

And as she treats all things, and ne'er retreats
From any thing, this Epic will contain

A wilderness of the most rare conceits,

Which you might elsewhere hope to find in vain. 'Tis true there be some bitters with the sweets, Yet mixed so slightly that you can't complain,

But wonder they so few are, since my tale is

"De rebus cunctis et quibûsdam aliis."

IV.

But of all truths which she has told, the most

True is that which she is about to tell.

I said it was a story of a ghost

What then? I only know it so befel.

Have you explored the limits of the coast,

Where all the dwellers of the earth must dwell?

'Tis time to strike such puny doubters dumb as The sceptics who would not believe Columbus.

V.

Some people would impose now with authority, Turpin's or Monmouth Geoffry's Chronicle;

Men whose historical superiority

Is always greatest at a miracle.

But Saint Augustine has the great priority,
Who bids all men believe the impossible,
Because 'tis so. Who nibble, scribble, quibble, he

Quiets at once with "quia impossibile."

VI.

And therefore, mortals, cavil, not at all;

Believe:-if 'tis improbable, you must;

And if it is impossible, you shall:

'Tis always best to take things upon trust. I do not speak profanely, to recal

Those holier mysteries, which the wise and just Receive as gospel, and which grow more rooted, As all truths must, the more they are disputed.

VII.

I merely mean to say what Johnson said,

That in the course of some six thousand years,

All nations have believed that from the dead

A visitant at intervals appears;

And what is strangest upon this strange head,
Is, that whatever bar the reason rears

'Gainst such belief, there's something stronger still

In its behalf, let those deny who will.

VIII.

The dinner and the soirée too were done,

The supper too discussed, the dames admired, The banqueteers had dropped off one by one

The song was silent, and the dance expired: The last thin petticoats were vanished, gone

Like fleecy clouds into the sky retired,

And nothing brighter gleamed through the saloon Than dying tapers-and the peeping moon.

IX.

The evaporation of a joyous day

Is like the last glass of champagne, without The foam which made its virgin bumper gay; Or like a system coupled with a doubt;

Or like a soda bottle when its spray

Has sparkled and let half its spirit out; Or like a billow left by storms behind,

Without the animation of the wind;

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