XCII.

But though I am a temperate theologian,
And also meek as a metaphysician,
Impartial between Tyrian and Trojan
As Eldon on a lunatic commission,
In politics my duty is to show John

Bull something of the lower world's condition.
It makes my blood boil like the springs of Hecla,
To see men let these scoundrel sovereigns break law.

XCIII.

But politics, and policy, and piety,

Are topics which I sometimes introduce,
Not only for the sake of their variety,
But as subservient to a moral use;
Because my business is to dress society,

And stuff with sage that very verdant goose.
And now, that we may furnish with some matter all
Tastes, we are going to try the supernatural.

XCIV.

And now I will give up all argument;
And positively henceforth no temptation
Shall fool me to the top up of my

bent: Yes, I'll begin a thorough reformation. Indeed, I never knew what people meant

By deeming that my Muse's conversation
Was dangerous; I think she is as harmless
As some who labour more and yet may charm less.

XCV.

Grim reader! did you ever see a ghost?
No; but you've heard - I understand be dumb!
And do n't regret the time you may have lost,
For you have got that pleasure still to come :
And do not think I mean to sneer at most

Of these things, or by ridicule benumb
That source of the sublime and the mysterious :
For certain reasons my belief is serious.

Serious? You laugh;

XCVI.

you may that will I not; My smiles must be sincere or not at all.

I say I do believe a haunted spot

Exists -and where? That shall I not recall,
Because I'd rather it should be forgot,

"Shadows the soul of Richard" may appal.
In short, upon that subject I 've some qualms very
Like those of the philosopher of Malmsbury.*

XCVII,

sometimes an owl,

----

The night(1 sing by night
And now and then a nightingale) is dim,
And the loud shriek of sage Minerva's fowl
Rattles around me her discordant hymn :
Old portraits from old walls upon me scowl -
I wish to heaven they would not look so grim;
The dying embers dwindle in the grate

I think too that I have sate up too late ;

XCVIII.

And therefore, though 't is by no means my way
To rhyme at noon → when I have other things
To think of, if I ever think I say

I feel some chilly midnight shudderings,
And prudently postpone, until mid-day,
Treating a topic which, alas! but brings
Shadows; - but
you must be in my condition
Before you learn to call this superstition,

XCIX.

Between two worlds life hovers like a star,

"Twixt night and morn, upon the horizon's verge.

How little do we know that which we are!

How less what we may be! The eternal surge

Of time and tide rolls on, and bears afar

Our bubbles; as the old burst, new emerge,
Lash'd from the foam of ages; while the graves
Of empires heave but like some passing waves.

*Hobbes: who, doubting of his own soul, paid that compliment to the souls of other people as to decline their visits, of which he had some apprehension.

DON JUAN.

CANTO THE SIXTEENTH.

í.

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.

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. "T is true there be some bitters with the sweets, Yet mix'd so slightly, that you can't complain, But wonder they so few are, since my tale is "De rebus cunctis et quibusdam 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 befell. Have you explored the limits of the coast,

Where all the dwellers of the earth must dwell? "T is 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 't is so. Who nibble, scribble, quibble, he
Quiets at once with " quia impossibile."

VI.

And therefore, mortals, cavil not at all;
Believe: - if 't is improbable, you must;
And if it is impossible, you shall:

"T is always best to take things upon trust. I do not speak profanely, to recall

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.