CXCII. Alas! they were so young, so beautiful, But pays of moments in an endless shower CXCIII. Alas! for Juan and Haidee! they were Had run the risk of being damn'd for ever; Just in the very crisis she should not. CXCIV. They look upon each other, and their eyes Gleam in the moonlight, and her white arm clasps Round Juan's head, and his around hers lies Half buried in the tresses which it grasps; She sits upon his knee, and drinks his sighs, He hers, until they end in broken gasps; And thus they form a group that's quite antique, Half naked, loving, natural and Greek. CXCV. And when those deep and burning moments pass'd, She slept not, but all tenderly though fast, And then on the pale cheek her breast now warms, CXCVI. An infant when it gazes on a light, A child the moment when it drains the breast, An Arab with a stranger for a guest, CXCVII. For there it lies so tranquil, so beloved, Hush'd into death beyond the watcher's diving; CXCVIII: The lady watch'd her lover-and that hour Of love's, and night's, and ocean's solitude, CXCIX. Alas! the love of women! it is known And their revenge is as the tiger's spring, CC. They are right; for man, to man so oft unjust, Taught to conceal, their bursting hearts despond Over their idol, till some wealthier lust Buys them in marriage-and what rests beyond ? A thankless husband, next a faithless lover, Then dressing, nursing, praying, and all's over. CCI. Some take a lover, some take drams or prayers, CCII. Haidee was Nature's bride, and knew not this; Haidee was Passion's child, born where the sun Showers triple light, and scorches even the kiss Of his gazel-eyed daughters; she was one Made but to love, to feel that she was his Who was her chosen; what was said or done Elsewhere was nothing-She had nought to fear, Hope, care, nor love beyond, her heart beat here. CCIII. And, oh! that quickening of the heart, that beat! Is in its cause as its effect so sweet, That Wisdom, ever on the watch to rob Joy of its alchymy, and to repeat Fine truths: even Conscience, too, has a tough job To make us understand each good old maxim, So good-I wonder Castlereagh don't tax 'em. K CCIV. And now 'twas done on the lone shore were plighted Their hearts; the stars, their nuptial torches, shed Beauty upon the beautiful they lighted: Ocean their witness, and the cave their bed, By their own feelings hallow'd and united, Their priest was Solitude, and they were wed; And they were happy, for to their young eyes Each was an angel, and earth paradise. CCV. Oh, Love! of whom great Cæsar was the suitor; Sappho, the sage blue-stocking, in whose grave CCV1. Thou makest the chaste connubial state precarious, And jestest with the brows of mightiest men: Cæsar and Pompey, Mahomet, Belisarius, Have much employ'd the muse of history's pen: Their lives and fortunes were extremely various, Such worthies Time will never see again; Yet to these four, in three things the same luck holds, They all were heroes, conquerors, and cuckolds. CCVII. Thou makest philosophers: there's Epicurus By theories quite practicable too: If only from the devil they would insure us, How pleasant were the maxim, (not quite new) "Eat, drink, and love, what can the rest avail us?" So said the royal sage Sardanapalus. CCVIII. But Juan! had he quite forgotten Julia? Else how the devil is it that fresh features CCIX. I hate inconstancy-I loathe, detest, Abhor, condemn, abjure the mortal made COX. But soon Philosophy came to my aid, And whisper'd, "Think of every sacred tie!" "I will, my dear Philosophy!" I said, "But then her teeth, and then, Oh Heaven! her eye! "I'll just inquire if she be wife or maid, Or neither out of curiosity." "Stop!" cried Philosophy, with air so Grecian, CCXI. Stop!" so I stopp'd.-But to return: that which Than admiration due where Nature's rich |