XXXVII.

"The last time was"-" I pray,” said Adeline(Who watch'd the changes of Don Juan's brow, And from its context thought she could divine Connections stronger than he chose to avow With this same legend)—" if you but design

To jest, you'll choose some other theme just now, Because the present tale has oft been told, Ard is not much improved by growing old.” XXXVIII.

"Jest!" quoth Milor; "why, Adeline, you know That we ourselves—'t was in the honey moon — Saw"" Well, no matter, 't was so long ago; But, come, I'll set your story to a tune." Graceful as Dian, when she draws her bow,

She seized her harp, whose strings were kindled soon

As touch'd, and plaintively began to play
The air of ""T was a Friar of Orders Gray."

XXXIX.

"But add the words,” cried Henry, "which you made; For Adeline is half a poetess,"

Turning round to the rest, he smiling said.

Of course the others could not but express

In courtesy their wish to see disp'ay'd

By one three talents, for there were no lessThe voice, the words, the harper's skill, at once Could hardly be united by a dance.

XL.

After some fascinating hesitation,

The charming of these charmers, who seem bound.

I can't tell why, to this dissimulation,

Fair Adeline, with eyes fix'd on the ground

At first, then kindling into animation,

Added her sweet voice to the lyric sound, And sang with much simplicity, -a merit Not the less precious, that we seldom hear it. 1.

Beware! beware! of the Black Friar,

Who sitteth by Norman stone,

For he mutters his prayer in the midnight air,
And his mass of the days that are gone.
When the Lord of the Hill, Amundeville,
Made Norman Church his prey,

And expell'd the friars, one friar still
Would not be driven away.

By the marriage-bed of their lords, 'tis said, Ile flits on the bridal eve;

And 't is held as faith, to their bed of death He comes-but not to grieve.

4.

When an heir is born, he's heard to mourn,
And when aught is to befall

That ancient line, in the pale moonshine
He walks from hall to hall. '

His form you may trace, but not his face,
'Tis shadow'd by his cowl:

But his eyes may be seen from the folds between, And they seem of a parted soul.

5.

But beware! beware! of the Black Friar,
He still retains his sway,

For he is yet the church's heir
Whoever may be the lay.
Amundeville is lord by day,

But the monk is lord by night;

Nor wine nor wassail could raise a vassal To question that friar's right.

6.

Say nought to him as he walks the hall,
And he'll say nought to you;

He sweeps along in his dusky pall,
As o'er the grass the dew.

Then grammercy! for the Black Friar;
Heaven sain him! fair or foul,
And whatsoe'er may be his prayer,
Let ours be for his soul.

XLL.

The lady's voice ceased, and the thrilling wires
Died from the touch that kindled them to sound;
And the pause follow'd, which when song expires
Pervades a moment those who listen round;
And then of course the circle much admires,
Nor less applauds, as in politeness bound,
The tones, the feeling, and the execution,
To the performer's diffident confusion.

XLIL

Fair Adeline, though in a careless way,
As if she rated such accomplishment
As the mere pastime of an idle day,

Pursued an instant for her own content,
Would now and then as 't were without display,
Yet with display in fact, at times relent
To such performances with haughty smile,
To show she could, if it were worth her while.
XLIII.

Now this (but we will whisper it aside)

Was - pardon the pedantic illustration —
Trampling on Plato's pride with greater pride,
As did the Cynic on some like occasion;
Deeming the sage would be much mortified,
Or thrown into a philosophic passion,
For a spoilt carpet — but the “ Attic Bee"
Was much consoled by his own repartee. 2

2 I think that it was a carpet on which Diogenes trod, with "Thus I trample on the pride of Plato!""With greater pride," as the other replied. But as carpets are meant to be trodden upon, my memory probably misgives me, and it might be a robe, or tapestry, or a table-cloth, or some other expensive and uncynical piece of furniture.

[For two translations of this Portuguese song, see p. 557. 21 remember that the mayoress of a provincial town, somewhat surfeited with a similar display from foreign parts, did rather indecorously break through the applauses of an intelligent audience- intelligent, I mean, as to music-for the words, besides being in recondite languages (it was some years before the peace, ere all the world had travelled, and while I was a collegian), were sorely disguised by the performers: this mayoress, I say, broke out with, Rot your Italianos! for my part, I loves a simple ballat !" Rossini will

go a good way to bring most people to the same opinion some day. Who would imagine that he was to be the successor of Mozart? However, I state this with diffidence, as a liege and loyal admirer of Italian music in general, and of much of Rossini's; but we may say, as the connoisseur did of painting The Vicar of Wakefield," that "the picture would be better painted if the painter had taken more pains." 3 [The last words or rhymes of a number of verses given to a poet to be filled up. - Topo.]

in

4 [Petticoat government - female power. - Ibid.]

[thick,

There was a modern Goth, I mean a Gothic
Bricklayer of Babel, call'd an architect,
Brought to survey these grey walls, which though so
Might have from time acquired some slight defect;
Who after rummaging the Abbey through thick
And thin, produced a plan whereby to erect
New buildings of correctest conformation,
And throw down old, which he call'd restoration.
LIX.

The cost would be a trifle-an "old song,"

Set to some thousands ('tis the usual burden Of that same tune, when people hum it long) The price would speedily repay its worth in An edifice no less sublime than strong,

By which Lord Henry's good taste would go forth in

Its glory, through all ages shining sunny,

For Gothic daring shown in English money. 2
LX.

There were two lawyers busy on a mortgage

Lord Henry wish'd to raise for a new purchase; Also a lawsuit upon tenures burgage,

And one on tithes, which sure are Discord's torches, Kindling Religion till she throws down her gage,

"Untying 'squires "to fight against the churches;"3 There was a prize ox, a prize pig, and ploughman, For Henry was a sort of Sabine showman,

LXI.

There were two poachers caught in a steel trap,
Ready for gaol, their place of convalescence;
There was a country girl in a close cap

And scarlet cloak (I hate the sight to see, since — Since since-in youth, I had the sad mishapBut luckily I have paid few parish fees since): That scarlet cloak, alas! unclosed with rigour, Presents the problem of a double figure.

LXII.

A reel within a bottle is a mystery,

One can't tell how it e'er got in or out; Therefore the present piece of natural history I leave to those who are fond of solving doubt;

1 [Capo d'opera-chef-d'œuvre-master-piece.]

2 "Ausu Romano, ære Veneto" is the inscription (and well inscribed in this instance) on the sea walls between the Adriatic and Venice. The walls were a republican work of the Venetians; the inscription, I believe, Imperial; and inscribed by Napoleon the First. It is time to continue to him that title-there will be a second by and by, "Spes altera mundi," if he live; let him not defeat it like his father. But

And merely state, though not for the consistory,
Lord Henry was a justice, and that Scout
The constable, beneath a warrant's banner,
Had bagg'd this poacher upon Nature's manor.
LXIII.

Now justices of peace must judge all pieces
Of mischief of all kinds, and keep the game
And morals of the country from caprices

Of those who have not a licence for the same;
And of all things, excepting tithes and leases,
Perhaps these are most difficult to tame :
Preserving partridges and pretty wenches
Are puzzles to the most precautious benches.
LXIV.

The present culprit was extremely pale,

Pale as if painted so; her cheek being red By nature, as in higher dames less hale

'Tis white, at least when they just rise from bed. Perhaps she was ashamed of seeming frail,

Poor soul! for she was country born and bred,
And knew no better in her immorality
Than to wax white-for blushes are for quality.

LXV.

Her black, bright, downcast, yet espiègle eye, Had gather'd a large tear into its corner, Which the poor thing at times essay'd to dry, For she was not a sentimental mourner Parading all her sensibility,

Nor insolent enough to scorn the scorner, But stood in trembling, patient tribulation, To be call'd up for her examination.

LXVI.

Of course these groups were scatter'd here and there, Not nigh the gay saloon of ladies gent.

The lawyers in the study; and in air

The prize pig, ploughman, poachers; the men sent From town, viz. architect and dealer, were

Both busy (as a general in his tent Writing despatches) in their several stations, Exulting in their brilliant lucubrations.

LXVII.

But this poor girl was left in the great hall,
While Scout, the parish guardian of the frail,
Discuss'd (he hated beer yclept the "small")
A mighty mug of moral double ale.
She waited until Justice could recall

Its kind attentions to their proper pale,
To name a thing in nomenclature rather
Perplexing for most virgins—a child's father.
LXVIII.

You see here was enough of occupation

For the Lord Henry, link'd with dogs and horses. There was much bustle too, and preparation Below stairs on the score of second courses; Because, as suits their rank and situation,

Those who in counties have great land resources Have "public days," when all men may carouse, Though not exactly what's call'd "open house."

in any case, he will be preferable to Imbéciles. There is glorious field for him, if he know how to cultivate it. -[Napoleon, Duke of Reichstadt, died at Vienna in 1832- to the disappointment of many prophets.]

"I conjure you, by that which you profess,
(Howe'er you come to know it) answer me:
Though ye untie the winds, and let them fight
Against the churches."— Macbeth.

IXIX.

But once a week or fortnight, uninvited
(Thus we translate a general invitation)
All country gentlemen, esquired or knighted,
May drop in without cards, and take their station
At the full board, and sit alike delighted

With fashionable wines and conversation;
And, as the isthmus of the grand connection,
Talk o'er themselves the past and next election.

LXX.

Lord Henry was a great electioneerer

Burrowing for boroughs like a rat or rabbit. But county contests cost him rather dearer,

Because the neighbouring Scotch Earl of Giftgabbit Had English influence, in the self-same sphere here; His son, the Honourable Dick Dicedrabbit, Was member for the "other interest" (meaning The same self-interest, with a different leaning).

LXXI.

Courteous and cautious therefore in his county, He was all things to all men, and dispensed To some civility, to others bounty,

And promises to all-which last commenced To gather to a somewhat large amount, he

Not calculating how much they condensed; But what with keeping some, and breaking others, His word had the same value as another's.

LXXII.

A friend to freedom and freeholders — yet
No less a friend to government - he held,
That he exactly the just medium hit

"Twixt place and patriotism-albeit compell'd,
Such was his sovereign's pleasure, (though unfit,
He added modestly, when rebels rail'd,)
To hold some sinecures he wish'd abolish'd,
But that with them all law would be demolish'd.
LXXIII.

He was "free to confess"-(wnence comes this phrase?
Is't English? No-'tis only parliamentary)
That innovation's spirit now-a-days

Had made more progress than for the last century.
He would not tread a factious path to praise,
Though for the public weal disposed to venture high;
As for his place, he could but say this of it,

That the fatigue was greater than the profit.
LXXIV.

Heaven, and his friends, knew that a private life
Had ever been his sole and whole ambition;
But could he quit his king in times of strife,
Which threaten'd the whole country with perdition?
When demagogues would with a butcher's knife

Cut through and through (oh! damnable incision!) The Gordian or the Geordi-an knot, whose strings Have tied together commons, lords, and kings.

And thought. I say no more I've said too much; For all of us have either heard or read

Off-or upon the hustings-some slight such Hints from the independent heart or head

Of the official candidate. I'll touch No more on this the dinner-bell hath rung, And grace is said; the grace I should have sung – LXXVIII.

But I'm too late, and therefore must make play. 'Twas a great banquet, such as Albion old Was wont to boast as if a glutton's tray

Were something very glorious to behold. But 'twas a public feast and public day,

Quite full, right dull, guests hot, and dishes cold, Great plenty, much formality, small cheer, And every body out of their own sphere. LXXIX.

The squires familiarly formal, and

My lords and ladies proudly condescending; The very servants puzzling how to hand

Their plates-without it might be too much bending From their high places by the sideboard's standYet, like their masters, fearful of offending. For any deviation from the graces Might cost both man and master too-their places. LXXX.

There were some hunters bold, and coursers keen, Whose hounds ne'er err'd, nor greyhounds deign'd to lurch;

Some deadly shots too, Septembrizers, seen

Earliest to rise, and last to quit the search Of the poor partridge through his stubble screen. There were some massy members of the church, Takers of tithes, and makers of good matches, And several who sung fewer psalms than catches. LXXXI.

There were some country wags too—and, alas! Some exiles from the town, who had been driven To gaze, instead of pavement, upon grass,

And rise at nine in lieu of long eleven.
And lo! upon that day it came to pass,

I sate next that o'erwhelming son of heaven,
The very powerful parson, Peter Pith,'
The loudest wit I e'er was deafen'd with.
LXXXII.

I knew him in his livelier London days,

A brilliant diner out, though but a curate,
And not a joke he cut but earn'd its praise,
Until preferment, coming at a sure rate,
(O Providence! how wondrous are thy ways!

Who would suppose thy gifts sometimes obdurate?)
Gave him, to lay the devil who looks o'er Lincoln,
A fat fen vicarage, and nought to think on.

2 Query, Sidney Smith, author of Peter Plimley's Letters? Printer's Devil.]

LXXXIII.

His jokes were sermons, and his sermons jokes; But both were thrown away amongst the fens; For wit hath no great friend in aguish folks.

No longer ready ears and short-hand pens Imbibed the gay bon-mot, or happy hoax :

The poor priest was reduced to common sense, Or to coarse efforts very loud and long,

To hammer a hoarse laugh from the thick throng.
LXXXIV.

There is a difference, says the song, "between
A beggar and a queen '," or was (of late
The latter worse used of the two we've seen-
But we'll say nothing of affairs of state)
A difference" 'twixt a bishop and a dean,"

A difference between crockery ware and plate,
As between English beef and Spartan broth-
And yet great heroes have been bred by both.
LXXXV.

But of all nature's discrepancies, none

Upon the whole is greater than the difference Beheld between the country and the town,

Of which the latter merits every preference From those who have few resources of their own, And only think, or act, or feel, with reference To some small plan of interest or ambition Both which are limited to no condition.

LXXXVI.

But" en avant!" The light loves languish o'er
Long banquets and too many guests, although

A slight repast makes people love much more,
Bacchus and Ceres being, as we know,

Even from our grammar upwards, friends of yore
With vivifying Venus 2, who doth owe

To these the invention of champagne and truffles:
Temperance delights her, but long fasting ruffles.
LXXXVII.

Dully past o'er the dimer of the day;

And Juan took his place, he knew not where, Confused, in the confusion, and distrait,

And sitting as if nail'd upon his chair:

Though knives and forks clank'd round as in a fray,
He seem'd unconscious of all passing there,
Till some one, with a groan, exprest a wish
(Unheeded twice) to have a fin of fish.
LXXXVIII.

On which, at the third asking of the bans,

He started; and perceiving smiles around Broadening to grins, he colour'd more than once, And hastily-as nothing can confound A wise man more than laughter from a dunce Inflicted on the dish a deadly wound, And with such hurry, that ere he could curb it, He had paid his neighbour's prayer with half a turbot.

LXXXIX.

This was no bad mistake, as it occurr'd,

The supplicator being an amateur; But others, who were left with scarce a third, Were angry-as they well might, to be sure, They wonder'd how a young man so absurd

Lord Henry at his table should endure; And this, and his not knowing how much oats Had fallen last market, cost his host three votes.

1 ["There's a difference between a beggar and a queen; And I'll tell you the reason why;

XC.

They little knew, or might have sympathised,
That he the night before had seen a ghost,
A prologue which but slightly harmonised
With the substantial company engross'd
By matter, and so much materialised,

That one scarce knew at what to marvel most Of two things-how (the question rather odd is) Such bodies could have souls, or souls such bodies. XCI.

But what confused him more than smile or stare, From all the 'squires and 'squiresses around, Who wonder'd at the abstraction of his air, Especially as he had been renown'd

For some vivacity among the fair,

Even in the country circle's narrow bound (For little things upon my lord's estate Were good small talk for others still less great) — XCII.

Was, that he caught Aurora's eye on his,

And something like a smile upon her cheek. Now this he really rather took amiss:

---

In those who rarely smile, their smile bespeaks
A strong external motive; and in this

Smile of Aurora's there was nought to pique,
Or hope, or love, with any of the wiles
Which some pretend to trace in ladies' smiles.
XCIII.

'T was a mere quiet smile of contemplation,
Indicative of some surprise and pity;
And Juan grew carnation with vexation,

Which was not very wise, and still less witty,
Since he had gain'd at least her observation,
A most important outwork of the city—
As Juan should have known, had not his senses
By last night's ghost been driven from their defences
XCIV.

But what was bad, she did not blush in turn,
Nor seem embarrass'd-quite the contrary;
Her aspect was as usual, still—not stern—
And she withdrew, but cast not down, her eye,
Yet grew a little pale—with what? concern?
I know not; but her colour ne'er was high-
Though sometimes faintly flush'd-and always clear,
As deep seas in a sunny atmosphere.

XCV.

But Adeline was occupied by fame

This day; and watching, witching, condescending To the consumers of fish, fowl, and game, And dignity with courtesy so blending, As all must blend whose part it is to aim (Especially as the sixth year is ending) At their lord's, son's, or similar connection's Safe conduct through the rocks of re-elections. XCVI.

Though this was most expedient on the whole,
And usual - Juan, when he cast a glance
On Adeline while playing her grand rôle,
Which she went through as though it were a dance,
Betraying only now and then her soul

By a look scarce perceptibly askance
(Of weariness or scorn), began to feel
Some doubt how much of Adeline was real;

A queen does not swagger, nor get drunk like a beggar.
Nor be half so merry as I," &c.]

2 [Sine Cerere et Baccho friget Venus.-ADAG.]