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To match a common fury with her rage,
Like moderate Hotspur on the immortal page ;
Perhaps the fault of her soft sex and age
Pass'd without words in fact she could not speak: And then her sex's shame broke in at last,
A sentiment in her till then but weak,
As water through an unexpected leak,
It also gently hints to them that others,
That urns and pipkins are but fragile brothers, And works of the same pottery, bad or good,
Though not all born of the same sires and mothers;
Her second, to cut only his-acquaintance:
Her fourth, to rally him into repentance; Her fifth, to call her maids and go to bed ;
Her sixth, to stab herself; her seventh, to sentence The lash to Baba ;—but her grand resource Was to sit down again, and cry of course.
The dagger close at hand, which made it awkward ;
So that a poniard pierces if 'tis stuck hard :
Though he deserved it well for being so backward,
To be impaled, or quarter'd as a dish
Or thrown to lions, or made baits for fish,
Rather than sin, except to his own wish : But all his great preparatives for dying Dissolved like snow before a woman crying.
So Juan's virtue ebb’d, I know not how;
And then if matters could be made up now;
Just as a friar may accuse his vow,
So he began to stammer some excuses ;
But words are not enough in such a matter, Although you borrow'd all that e'er the Muses
Have sung, or even a Dandy's dandiest chatter,
Just as a languid smile began to flatter
CXLIV. “ Bride of the Sun; and Sister of the Moon !"
('Twas thus he spake,) “and Empress of the Earth! “ Whose frown would put the spheres all out of tune,
“ Whose smile makes all the planets dance with mirth, “ Your slave brings tidings—he hopes not too soonWhich your sublime attention may
be worth: “ The sun himself has sent me like a ray “ To hint that he is coming up this way."
CXLV. • Is it,” exclaim'd Gulleyaz, as you say?
“I wish to Heaven he would not shine till morning! “ But bid my women form the milky way.
Hence, my old comet! give the stars due warningAnd, christian! mingle with them as you may, “ And as you'd have me pardon your past scorningHere they were interrupted by a humming Sound, and then by a cry, “The sultan's coming!"
And then his highness' eunuchs black and white;
His majesty was always so polite
Before he came, especially at night;
Shawl'd to the nose, and bearded to the eyes,
His lately bowstrung brother caused his rise ;
As any mention'd in the histories
CXLVIII. He went to mosque in state, and said his prayers
With more than “Oriental scrupulosity;" He left to his vizier all state affairs,
And show'd but little royal curiosity ; I know not if he had domestic cares
No process proved connubial animosity ; Four wives, and twice five hundred maids, unseen, Were ruled as calmly as a christian queen.
Little was heard of criminal or crime;
The sack and sea had settled all in time, From which the secret nobody could rip;
The public knew no more than does this rhyme; No scandals made the daily press a curseMorals were better, and the fish no worse.
Was also certain that the earth was square,
No sign that it was circular any where; His empire also was without a bound :
'Tis true, a little troubled here and there, By rebel pachas, and encroaching giaours, But then they never came to “ the Seven Towers ;"
To lodge there when a war broke out, according To the true law of nations, which ne'er meant
Those scoundrels, who have never had a sword in Their dirty diplomatic hands, to vent
Their spleen in making strife, and safely wording Their lies, yclept despatches, without risk or The singing of a single inky whisker.
Of whom all such as came of age were stow'd,
They lived till some Bashaw was sent abroad, When she, whose turn it was, wedded at once,
Sometimes at six years old—though this seems odd, 'Tis true; the reason is, that the Bashaw Must make a present to his sire in law.
Of years to fill a bowstring or the throne,
Could yet be known unto the fates alone!
Was princely, as the proofs have always shown ;
With all the ceremonies of his rank,
As suits a matron who has play'd a prank; These must seem doubly mindful of their vows,
To save the credit of their breaking bank : To no men are such cordial greetings given As those whose wives have made them fit for heaven.
And looking, as he always look'd, perceived
At which he seem'd no whit surprised nor grieved, But just remark'd with air sedate and wise,
While still a fluttering sigh Gulleyaz heaved, “ I see you've bought another girl ; 'tis pity • That å mere christian should be half so pretty.”