BYRON'S WORKS,

SGO

And, raising up an arm as moonlight fair,

She sign’d to Baba, who first kiss’d the hemOf her deep purple robe, aud, speaking low,Fointed 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 relateOf form and features; it would strike you blind.Could I do justice to the full detail;

So, luckily for both, my phrases fail.

xcvm.

Thus much however I may add,—her yearsWere ripe, they might make six-and-twentysprings,

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—tearsAnd love destroy. and sapping sorrow wringsCharms from the charmer, yet some never growUgly; for instance—Ninon de l’Enclos .

XCIX.

She spake some words to her attendants', whoCompos'd a choir of girls, ten or a dozen.

And were a ll clad alike; like Juan, too,

Who wore their uniform, by Baba chosen;

They form’d a very nymph-like looking crewWhich might have called Diana’s chorus“cousin,”

As far as outward show may correspond;

1 won't be bail for anything beyond.

C.

They bow’d obeisance and withdrew, retiring,

But not by the same door through which camein—

Baba and Juan, which last stood admiring,

At some small distance, all he saw withinThis strange saloon, much fitted for inspiringMarvel and praise; for both or none things win;And I must say, I ne’er could see the veryGreat happiness of the “ Nil Admirari."

cr.

“Not to admire is all the art I know,

(Plain truth, dear Murray, needs few flowers ofspeech)

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 process to re-teachFrom his translation; but had none admir'd ,

Would Pope have sung, or Horace been inspir’d?

cn.

Baba, when all the damsels were withdrawn,Motion’d to Juan to approach, and thenA second time desir’d him to kneel down,

k* ss t’* 10 lady’s foot; which maxim whenHe heard repeated, Juan with a frownDrew himself up to his full height again,

And said, “ It grieved him, hut he could not stoopTo any shoe, unless it shod the Pope.’*

C it.

Baba, indignant at this ill-tim’d pride,

Made fierce remonstrances, and then a threatHe mutter'd (but the last was given aside)

Afout a bow-string—quite in vain; not yetWould Juan bend, though 'twere to Mahomet'sbride;

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 wordsAbout his ears, and nathless would not bend;The blood of all his line’s Castilian lordsBoil 'd in his veins, and rather than descendTo stain his pedigree, a thousand swordsA 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 peacefulguise;

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 command#The gentleman to kiss the lady's hands.

cvi.

And he advanc'd, though with hut a bad grace,Though on more thorough-bred * or fairer fingersNo lips e’er left their transitory trace:

On such as these the lip too fondly lingers,

And for one kiss would fain impriut a brace,

As you will see. if she you love shall bring hersIn contact; and sometimes even a fair stranger'sAn almost twelvemonth’s constancy endangers.

CVII.

The lady ey’d him o’er and o'er, and badeBaba retire, which he obey’d in style,

As if well us’d 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 have done a virtuousaction.

cvnr.

■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 rangeThe verge of heaven; and, in her large eyeswrought,

A mixture of sensations might he 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 perplexEve, and pav'd (God knows how) the road toevil;

* There is perhaps nothing more distinctive of birth than the hand; it is almost the only sign of bloodwh:ch aristocracy can generate.