LXV. And first, in the o'erflowing of her heart, And bade him counsel Juan. With a smile To wean Don Juan from the siren's wile; LXVI. Firstly, he said, " he never interfered In any body's business but the king's :' Next, that he never judged from what appear'd, Without strong reason, of those sorts of things:" Thirdly, that "Juan had more brain than beard, And was not to be held in leading-strings:" And fourthly, what need hardly be said twice, "That good but rarely came from good advice." LXVII. And, therefore, doubtless to approve the truth That time would temper Juan's faults of youth; But here a messenger brought in dispatches: LXVIII. And being of the council call'd "the privy," To tell how he reduced the nation's debt; LXIX. But ere he went, he added a slight hint, pass, for want of better, though not new; LXX. He was a cold, good, honourable man, Proud of his birth, and proud of every thing; A goodly spirit for a state divan, A figure fit to walk before a king; On birth-days, glorious with a star and string; And such I mean to make him when I reign. LXXI. But there was something wanting on the whole- A handsome man, that human miracle; LXXII. Still there was something wanting, as I've said— Which, for what I know, may of yore have led But thus it is some women will betray us. LXXIII. There is an awkward thing which much perplexes, By turns the difference of the several sexes; LXXIV. A something all-sufficient for the heart Is that for which the sex are always seeking; But how to fill up that same vacant part? There lies the rub-and this they are but weak in. Frail mariners afloat without a chart, They run before the wind through high seas breaking; And when they 've made the shore through every shock, 'Tis odd, or odds, it may turn out a rock. LXXV. There is a flower call'd "love in idleness" For which see Shakspeare's ever-blooming garden;I will not make his great description less, And beg his British godship's humble pardon, I touch a single leaf where he is warden; LXXVI. Eureka! I have found it! What I mean An accessary, as I have cause to guess. Your men of business are not apt to express Much passion, since the merchant-ship, the Argo, Convey'd Medea as her supercargo. LXXVII. Beatus ille procul from negotiis, Saith Horace; the great little poet's wrong; Is much more to the purpose of his song; LXXVIII. Adam exchanged his paradise for ploughing; LXXIX. And hence high life is oft a dreary void, A rack of pleasures, where we must invent And hence arise the woes of sentiment, LXXX. I do declare, upon an affidavit, Romances I ne'er read like those I've seen; Would some believe that such a tale had been : LXXXI. "An oyster may be cross'd in love,”—and why? Much as a monk may do within his cell : And à propos of monks, their piety With sloth hath found it difficult to dwell; LXXXII. Oh, Wilberforce! thou man of black renown, Which you should perpetrate some summer's day, You have freed the blacks-now pray shut up the whites. LXXXIII. Shut up the bald-coot bully Alexander ; Ship off the holy three to Senegal ; Teach them that "sauce for goose is sauce for gander," And ask them how they like to be in thrall. Shut up each high heroic salamander, Who eats fire gratis (since the pay 's but small); Shut up-no, not the king, but the pavilion, Or else 't will cost us all another million. LXXXIV. Shut up the world at large; let Bedlam out, As now with those of soi-disant sound mind. LXXXV. Our gentle Adeline had one defect Her heart was vacant, though a splendid mansion; Her conduct had been perfectly correct, As she had seen nought claiming its expansion. A wavering spirit may be easier wreck'd, Because 't is frailer, doubtless, than a stanch one; But when the latter works its own undoing, Its inner crash is like an earthquake's ruin. LXXXVI. She loved her lord, or thought so; but that love LXXXVII. There was no great disparity of years, Though much in temper; but they never clash'd: They moved like stars united in their spheres, Or like the Rhone by Leman's waters wash'd, Where mingled and yet separate appears The river from the lake, all bluely dash'd Through the serene and placid glassy deep, Which fain would lull its river-child to sleep. LXXXVIII. Now, when she once had ta'en an interest LXXXIX. But when it was, she had that lurking demon Whene'er their triumph pales, or star is tamed: |