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CCXII. 'Tis the perception of the beautiful,
A fine extension of the faculties Platonio, universal, wonderful,
Drawn from the stars, and filter'd through the skies, Without which life would be extremely dull;
In short, 'tis the use of our own eyes
For surely if we always could perceive
As when she rose upon us like an Eve, 'Twould save us many an heart-ache, many a shilling,
(For we must get them any how, or grieve,) Whereas if one sole lady pleased for ever, How pleasant for the heart, as well as liver !
But changes night and day too, like the sky;
And darkness and destruction as on high :
Its storms expire in water drops; the eye
But very rarely executes its function,
That all the rest creep in and form a junction,
Rage, fear, hate, jealousy, revenge, compunction, So that all mischiefs spring up from this entrail, Like earthquakes from the hidden fire call'd " central."
In this anatomy, I've finished now
That being about the number I'll allow Each canto of the twelve, or twenty-four ;
And, laying down my pen, I make my bow, Leaving Don Juan and Haidee to plead For them and theirs with all who deign to read.
END OF CANTO SECOND.
Pillow'd upon a fair and happy breast,
And loved by a young heart, too deeply blest,
Or know who rested there; a foe to rest
Which makes it fatal to be loved? Ah! why
And made thy best interpreter a sigh?
And place them on their breast—but place to die--
In all the others all she loves is love,
And fits her loosely, like an easy glove,
One man alone at first her heart can move;
I know not if the fault be men's or theirs ;
But one thing's pretty sure; a woman planted (Unless at once she plunge in life for prayers)
After a decent time must be gallanted ; Although, no doubt, her first of love affairs
Is that to which her heart is wholly granted; Yet there are some, they say, who have had none, But those who have ne'er end with only one.
Of human frailty, folly, also crime,
Although they both are born in the same clime ;
A sad, sour, sober beverage by time
Between their present and their future state;
Is used until the truth arrives too late Yet what can people do, except despair ?
The same things change their names at such a rate;
They sometimes also get a little tired,
The same things cannot always be admired, Yet 'tis " so nominated in the bond,"
That both are tied 'till one shall have expired. Sad thought' to lose the spouse that was adorning Our days, and put one's servants into mourning.