XXV. One of the two, according to your choice, But which to chuse, I really hardly know; For both sides I could many reasons show, And then decide, without great wrong to either, It were much better to have both than neither. XXVI. Juan and Haidee gazed upon each other With swimming looks of speechless tenderness, Which mix'd all feelings, friend, child, lover, brother, All that the best can mingle and express, When two pure hearts are pour'd in one another, And love too much, and yet can not love less ; But almost sanctify the sweet excess By the immortal wish and power to bless. XXVII. Mix'd in each other's arms, and heart in heart, Why did they not then die ?-they had lived too long, Should an hour come to bid them breathe apart; Years could but bring them cruel things or wrong. The world was not for them, nor the world's art For beings passionate as Sappho's song; Love was born with them, in them, so intense, It was their very spirit-not a sense. XXVIII. They should have lived together deep in woods, Called social, haunts of hate, vice and care: XXIX. Now pillow'd, cheek to cheek, in loving sleep, A gentle slumber, but it was not deep, For ever and anon a something shook Juan, and shuddering o'er his frame would creep ; Stirr'd with her dream, as rose-leaves with the air; XXX Or as the stirring of a deep clear stream Good to the soul which we no more can bind; XXXI. She dream'd of being alone on the sea-shore, Until she sobb'd for breath, and soon they were XXXII. Anon-she was released, and then she stray'd 'T was white and indistinct, nor stopp'd to meet Her glance nor grasp, for still she gazed and grasp'd, And ran, but it escaped her as she clasp'd. XXXIII. The dream changed in a cave she stood; its walls Of ages on its water-fretted halls, Where waves might wash, and seals might breed and lurk ; Her hair was dripping, and the very balls Of her black eyes seem'd turn'd to tears, and murk The sharp rocks look'd below each drop they caught, Which froze to marble as it fell, she thought. XXXIV. And wet, and cold, and lifeless at her feet, Pale as the foam that froth'd on his dead brow, Of his quench'd heart; and the sea dirges low XXXV. And gazing on the dead, she thought his face 1 More like and like to Lambro's aspect grewWith all his keen worn look and Grecian grace; And starting, she awoke, and what to view? Oh! Powers of Heaven! what dark eye meets she there? 'T is 't is her father's-fix'd upon the pair! XXXVI. Then shrieking, she arose, and shrieking fell, The ocean-buried, risen from death, to be XXXVII. Up Juan sprung to Haidee's bitter shriek, And caught her falling, and from off the wall XXXVIII. And Haidee clung around him: "Juan, 't is- Oh! dearest father, in this agony Of pleasure and of pain-even while I kiss Thy garment's hem with transport, can it be That doubt should mingle with my filial joy? Deal with me as thou wilt, but spare this boy." XXXIX. High and inscrutable the old man stood, Calm in his voice, and calm within his eyeNot always signs with him of calmest mood: He look'd upon her, but gave no reply; Then turn'd to Juan, in whose cheek the blood Oft came and went, as there resolved to die In arms, at least, he stood, in act to spring ; On the first foe whom Lambro's call might bring. XL. "Young man, your sword;" so Lambro once more said: Juan replied, "Not while this arm is free." The old man's cheek grew pale, but not with dread; Replied, "Your blood be then on your own head!” 'T was fresh-for he had lately used the lock- XLI. It has a strange quick jar upon the ear, That cocking of a pistol, when you know If XLII. Lambro presented, and one instant more Had stopp'd this canto, and Don Juan's breath, When Haidee threw herself her boy before; Stern as her sire : "On me," she cried, "let death Descend-the fault is mine; this fatal shore He found-but sought not. I have pledg'd my faithI love him-I will die with him: I knew Your nature's firmness-know your daughter's too." XLIII. A minute past, and she had been all tears, XLIV. He gazed on her, and she on him; 't was strange In the large dark eyes' mutual darted flame ; If cause should be-a lioness, though tame: Her father's blood before her father's face Boil'd up, and proved her truly of his race. XLV. I said they were alike, their features and There was resemblance, such as true blood wears; And now to see them, thus divided, stand In fix'd ferocity, when joyous tears, And sweet sensations, should have welcomed both, XLVI. The father paused a moment, then withdrew Would bear such outrage, and forbear to kill But I must do my duty-how thou hast XLVII. "Let him disarm; or, by my father's head, And arm'd from boot to turban, one and all, XLVIII. ; Then, with a sudden movement, he withdrew In vain she struggled in her father's clasp→ XLIX. The second had his cheek laid open; but His own well in, so well, ere you could look, |