XCVI.

The lady rising up with such an air

As Venus rose with from the wave, on them Bent like an antelope a Paphian pair

Of eyes, which put out each surrounding gem ; And raising up an arm as moonlight fair,

She sign'd to Baba, who first kiss'd the hem Of her deep-purple robe, and speaking low, Pointed to Juan, who remain❜d below.

XCVII.

Her presence was as lofty as her state;
Her beauty of that overpowering kind,
Whose force description only would abate:
I'd rather leave it much to your own mind,
Than lessen it by what I could relate

Of forms and features: it would strike you blind
Could I do justice to the full detail;

So, luckily for both, my phrases fail.

XCVIII.

This much, however, I may add, her years

Were ripe, they might make six and twenty springs, But there are forms which Time to touch forbears, And turns aside his scythe to vulgar things, Such as was Mary's queen of Scots; true-tears And love destroy; and sapping sorrow wings Charms from the charmer, yet some never grow Ugly; for instance-Ninon de l'Enclos.

XCIX.

She spake some words to her attendants, who
Composed a choir of girls, ten or a dozen,
And were all clad alike; like Juan, too,

Who wore their uniform, by Baba chosen :
They form'd a very nymph-like looking crew,

Which might have call'd Diana's chorus "cousin," As far as outward show may correspond;

I won't be bail for any thing beyond,

S

C.

They bow'd obedience and withdrew, retiring,
But not by the same door through which came in
Baba and Juan, which last stood admiring,

At some small distance, all he saw within
This strange saloon, much fitted for inspiring
Marvel and praise; for both or none things win;
And I must say, I ne'er could see the very
Great happiness of the "Nil Admirari.”

CI.

"Not to admire is all the art I know

66

(Plain truth, dear Murray, needs few flowers of speech) "To make men happy, or to keep them so;

(So take it in the very words of Creech)."

Thus Horace wrote we all know long ago;

And thus Pope quotes the precept to re-teach
From his translation; but had none admired,
Would Pope have sung, or Horace been inspired?

CII.

Baba, when all the damsels were withdrawn,
Motion'd to Juan to approach, and then
A second time desired him to kneel down,
And kiss the lady's foot; which maxim when
He heard repeated, Juan with a frown

Drew himself up to his full height again,
And said, "It grieved him, but he could not stoop
"To any shoe, unless it shod the Pope."

CIII.

Baba, indignant at this ill-timed pride,

Made fierce remonstrances, and then a threat
He mutter'd (but the last was given aside)
About a bow-string-quite in vain; not yet
Would Juan stoop, though 'twere to Mahomet's bride :
There's nothing in the world like etiquette

In kingly chambers or imperial halls,

As also at the race and county balls.

CIV.

He stood like Atlas, with a world of words
About his ears, and nathless would not bend;
The blood of all his line's Castilian lords

Boil'd in his veins, and rather than descend
To stain his pedigree, a thousand swords

A thousand times of him had made an end; At length perceiving the "foot" could not stand, Baba proposed that he should kiss the hand.

CV.

Here was an honourable compromise,

A half-way house of diplomatic rest,

Where they might meet in much more peaceful guise; And Juan now his willingness exprest

To use all fit and proper courtesies,

Adding, that this was commonest and best, For through the south the custom still commands The gentleman to kiss the lady's hand.

CVI.

And he advanced, though with but a bád grace, Though on more thorough-bred or fairer fingers [8] No lips e'er left their transitory trace:

On such as these the lip too fondly lingers, And for one kiss would fain imprint a brace,

As you will see, if she you love shall bring hers In contact; and sometimes even a fair stranger's An almost twelvemonth's constancy endangers.

CVII.

The lady eyed him o'er and o'er, and bade
Baba retire, which he obey'd in style,
As if well used to the retreating trade;
And taking hints in good part all the while,

He whisper'd Juan not to be afraid,

And looking on him with a sort of smile,
Took leave with such a face of satisfaction,
As good men wear who've done a virtuous action.

CVIII.

When he was gone, there was a sudden change:
I know not what might be the lady's thought,
But o'er her bright brow flash'd a tumult strange,
And into her clear cheek the blood was brought,
Blood-red as sunset summer clouds which range
The verge of Heaven; and in her large eyes wrought
A mixture of sensations might be scann'd,

Of half voluptuousness and half command.

CIX.

Her form had all the softness of her sex,
Her features all the sweetness of the devil,
When he put on the cherub to perplex

Eve, and paved (God knows how) the road to evil; The sun himself was scarce more free from specks Than she from aught at which the eye could cavil; Yet somehow there was something somewhere wanting, As if she rather ordered than was granting,

CX.

Something imperial, or imperious, threw

A chain o'er all she did; that is, a chain
Was thrown as 'twere about the neck of you,-
And rapture's self will seem almost a pain
With aught which looks like despotism in view:
Our souls at least are free, and 'tis in vain
We would against them make the flesh obey-
The spirit in the end will have its way.

CXI.

Her very smile was haughty, though so sweet;
Her very nod was not an inclination;
There was a self-will even in her small feet,

As though they were quite conscious of her stationThey trod as upon necks; and to complete

Her state, (it is the custom of her nation,)

A poniard deck'd her girdle, as the sign

She was a sultan's bride (tkank Heaven not mine).

CXII.

"To hear and to obey" had been from birth
The law of all around her; to fulfil
All phantasies which yielded joy or mirth,

Had been her slaves' chief pleasure, as her will;
Her blood was high, her beauty scarce of earth:
Judge, then, if her caprices e'er stood still;
Had she but been a Christian, I've a notion
We should have found out the "perpetual motion."

CXIII.

Whate'er she saw and coveted was brought;
Whate'er she did not see, if she supposed
It might be seen, with diligence was sought,

And when 'twas found straightway the bargain closed: There was no end unto the things she bought,

Nor to the trouble which her fancies caused;

Yet even her tyranny had such a grace,
The women pardon'd all except her face.

CXIV.

Juan, the latest of her whims, had caught
Her eye in passing on his way to sale;
She order'd him directly to be bought,

And Baba, who had ne'er been known to fail
In any kind of mischief to be wrought,

Had his instructions where and how to deal: She had no prudence, but he had; and this Explains the garb which Juan took amiss.

CXV.

His youth and features favour'd the disguise,
And should you ask how she, a sultan's bride,
Could risk or compass such strange phantasies,
This I must leave sultanas to decide:
Emperors are only husbands in wives' eyes,
And kings and consorts oft are mystified,
As we may ascertain with due precision,
Some by experience, others by tradition.