.323 BYRON’S

But being nuked, sbo was shock'd, you know,

Yet deem'd kersolt' in common pity bound,

As far as in her lay, “ to take him in,

A stranger ” dying, with so white a skin.

exxx.

But taking him into her father’s bouse,

Was not exactly the best way to save.

But like conveying to the cat the mouse,

Or people in a trance into their grave;

Because the good old man had so much u vovsUnlike the honest Arab thieves so brave,

He would have hospitably cur’d the stranger,

And sold him instantly when out of danger.

CXXXI.

And therefore, with her maid, she thought it best,(A virgin always on her maid relies)

To place him in the cave for present rest:

And when, at last, he open'd his black eyes,

Their charity increased about their guest:

And their compassions grew to such a size,

It open’d half the turnpike-gates to heaven—

(St. Paul says, ’tis the toll which must given.)CXXXIL

They made a fire,—but such a fire as theyUpon the moment could contrive with suchMaterials as were cast up round the bay,—

Some broken planks, and oars, that to the touchWere nearly tinder, since so long they lay,

A mast was almost crumbled to a crutch:

But, by God ’s grace, here wrecks were in suchplenty,

That there was fuel to have furnish’d twenty.

CXXXIII.

He had a bed of furs, and a pelisse,

For Haideo stripp’d her sables off to makeHis couch ; and, that he might be more at ease.And warm, in. case by chance he should, awake,They also gave a petticoat apiece,

She and her maid.—and promis'd by day-breakTo pay him a fresh visit, with a dish,

For breakfast, of eggs, coffee, bread, and fish,cxxxiv.

And thus they left him to his lone repose:

Juan slept like a top, or like the dead,

Who sleep at last, perhaps, (God only knows),

Just for the present; and in his lull'd headNot even a vision of his former woesThrobb’d in accursed dreams, which sometimesspread

Unwelcome visions of our former years,

Till the eye, cheated, opens thick with tears,cxxxv.

Young Juan slept all dreamlessbut the maid,Who smooth’d his pillow, as she left the denLook’d back upon him, and a moment staid,

And turn'd, believing that he call'd again.

He slumber’d 1 ? yet she thought, at least she said,(The heart will slip even as the tongue and pen)He had pronounc’d her name—but sho forgotThat at this moment Juan knew it not.

a j . cxxxvi.

Ana pensive to her father’s house she went,Enjoining silence strict to Zoe, whohotter’than her knew what, in fact, she meant;

ohe being wiser by a year or two:

A year or t^o’s an age when rightly spent,

And Zoe spent her’s as most women do,

Jr gaming all that useful sort of knowledge9 Hch. is acqiur d in Nature’s good old college.

WORKS,

* CXXXVIL

The morn broke, and found Juan slumbering stillFast in his cave, and nothing clash'd uponHis rest; the ruBking of the neighbouring rill,

And the young beams of the excluded sun.Troubled him Dot, and ho might sleep his fill;

And need he had of slumber yet, for noneHad suffer'd more;—his hardships were compare*tive

To those related in my grandad's Narrative,

cxxxvur.

Not so Haidee; she sadly toss’d and tumbled,

And started from her sleep, and, turning o’er,Bream’d of a thousand wrecks o’er which shestumbled,

And handsome corpses strew'd upon the shore;And woke her maid so early that she grumbled.And call’d her father’s old slaves up, who sworeIn several oaths—Armenian, Turk, and Greek,—They knew not what to think of such a freak.

cxxxix.

But up she got, and up she made them get,

With some pretence about the sun, that makesSweet skies just when he rises, or is set:

And ’tis, no doubt, a sight to see, when breaksBright Phoebus, while the mountains still are wetWith mist, and every bird with him awakes,

And night is flung off like a mourning suitWorn for a husband, or some other brute.

CXL.

I say, the sufl is a most glorious sight;

I’ve seen him rise full oft, indeed of lateI have sat up on purpose all the night,

Which hastens, as physicians say, one’s fata;And so all ye, who would be in the right,

In health and purse, begin your da,y to dateFrom day-break, and when coffin'd at feur-score,Engrave upon the plate, you rose at four.

CXLI.

And Haidee mot the morning face to face;

Her own was freshest, though a feverish flushHad dyed it with tho headlong blood, whoso raceFrom heart to cheek is curb’d into a blush,

Like to a torrent which a mountain’s base,

That overpowers some Alpine river’s rush,Checks to a lake, whose waves in circles spread.Or the Red Sea —but the soa is not red. '

CXLIL

And down the cliff the island virgin came.

And near the cave her quick light footsteps drew,While the sun smil’d on her with his first flame.And young ** urora kiss'd her lips with dew,Taking her for a sifter; just the sameMistake you would bave made on seeing the two,Although the mortal, quite as fresh and fair,

Had all the advantage, too, of not being air.

CXLiir.

And when into the cavern Haidee stepp’d,

All timidly, yet lapidly, she sawThat like an infant Juan sweetly slept;

And then she stopp’d, and stood as if in awo(For sleep is awful), and ©n tiptoe crept,

And wrapt him closer, lest the air, too raw,Should reach his blood; then o’er h:m, still asdeath,

Bent, with hush’d lips, that drunk his scarco-drawhbreath.