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 DUKE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 Treasure l^goni 
 
 Class of 1913 
 
AN 
 
 APOLOGY FOR " DON JUAN;" 
 
 A SATIRICAL POEM, IN TWO CANTOS. 
 €J)(rt» iStrttton, 
 
 TO WHICH IS ADDED A THIRD CANTO, 
 
 INCLUDING 
 
 REMARKS ON THE TIMES. 
 
 BY JOHN W, THOMAS. 
 
 " Fragili quserens illidere dentem 
 Offendet solido." Hob. Sat. i. lib.ii. 
 
 " And it came, to pass that Elijah mocked them, and said, Cry aloud, 
 for he is a god." — 1 Kings xviii. 37. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PARTRIDGE AND OAKEY, 
 
 * PATERNOSTEK-ROW. 
 
 DUDLEY : THOMAS STANLEY. 
 
 MDCCCL. . 
 
DUDLEY : 
 
 PRINTED BY THOMAS STANLEY, 
 
 WOLYERHAMPTON-STREET. 
 

 PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION. 
 
 The first and second Cantos of this Poem were 
 published, anonymously, about twenty-five years ago, 
 during the life-time of the noble author, of whose 
 splendid, but licentious work it is a review : and a 
 second edition, with some additions, appeared soon 
 after his death. As the "Don Juan" of Lord 
 Byron has taken its place in the classical literature 
 of Great Britain, and has been ranked among the 
 acknowledged productions of the noble Poet, in the 
 recent edition of his works — not only with all its 
 moral defects, but also with the passages restored 
 which had4)een omitted in the earlier and anonymous 
 editions — the author of the present poem has consent- 
 ed to the republication of the Ironical and Satirical 
 "Apology" — with his name too prefixed. The allu- 
 sions, however, to the original anonymousness of both 
 have been unavoidably retained. Another reason 
 existed for the step now taken. The "Apology for 
 Don Juan" having been made the ground of a dastard- 
 ly attack on the moral character of the Author, its re- 
 
 249029 
 
IV PRE PACE. 
 
 publication appeared to him to be his best answer to 
 such an accusation. The anonymous " Fly-sheet " 
 writer who first made it, has not only misrepresented 
 the character and design of the Poem, but has also 
 misquoted its language, so as even to spoil the metre! 
 Like a clumsy farrier, or dishonest groom, who 
 maims the animal he takes in charge, this writer has 
 endeavoured to lame the author's Pegasus, though 
 unable to clip his wings, or emulate his flight ! The 
 motto from Horace, retained in this edition, and 
 which on the title-page of the former editions, warned 
 the reader not to interpret the title too literally ; 
 may now be regarded as a vaticination of the attack 
 and its result. The following is a liberal paraphrase : 
 
 " The Fly-sheet Viper smarting from the scourge, 
 Entered the place where VATES plied the forge j 
 Forming the pointed bolts of war to throw 
 "With his poetic arm against the foe. 
 Mad for revenge, the spotted pest look'd round, 
 If aught his fangs might reach : upon the ground 
 A something lay which to his eager eyes, 
 With passion blinded, seem'd a tempting prize ; 
 On this he seized, but with the sudden stroke, 
 Against the file his poisonous teeth he broke." 
 
 The Stanzas on the Death of Byron, which form 
 part of the additional Canto, appeared in the second 
 edition of the Apology. With this exception, the 
 third Canto is now for the first time presented to 
 the Public. 
 
AN APOLOGY, ftc. 
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 i, 
 I sing Don Juan, and his Author, who 
 
 Are so deserving our profound attention : 
 I do it with the deference that's due 
 
 To brilliant wit, and eminent invention ; 
 Though some have thought, and have asserted too, 
 
 That there is ground for serious reprehension ; 
 The Bard assures us 'tis a moral poem, a 
 And claims that credit which the public owe him, 
 
 ii. 
 
 This claim is just, as I shall quickly show, 
 To every reader's perfect satisfaction : 
 
 First, his nobility will prove it so— ^ [action 
 
 High birth and blood, of course, would scorn an 
 
 So base as falsehood ; furthermore you know, 
 (And this must surely silence all detraction) 
 
 That he's a genius, and that sacred name 
 
 Excludes all ground of obloquy and shame. 
 
 249029 
 
2 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 III. 
 
 His lordship's genius I shall not say much on 
 At present, for on that we all agree ; 
 
 The argument which here I briefly touch on, 
 Will clearly prove the moral tendency 
 
 Of this divine and exquisite production ; 
 Or, at the least, his ipse dixit he 
 
 Would find enough for our complete conviction, 
 
 But for some instances of contradiction. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Ill only mention two, which yet, I fear, 
 Will his veracity too much disparage ; 
 
 But do not censure him, until you hear 
 
 What I shall urge to palliate this miscarriage : 
 
 The first, perhaps, may somewhat odd appear, 
 'Tis on the subject of the bard's own marriage 
 
 ** I never married," he observes ; b — but who 
 
 Would think him bachelor and husband too ? 
 
 v. 
 The one he must be, from the above quotation; 
 
 If not the other, then I wonder why 
 Philosophy, when combating temptation, 
 
 Should whisper, "Think of every sacred tie ! c 
 Had he been wifeless, he on this occasion, 
 
 Had surely made a different reply ; 
 But thus to her memento he replied, 
 " I will my dear Philosophy," — and sigh'd. 
 
DON JUAN. 
 
 YI. 
 
 "Tis therefore possible, it seems, to be 
 
 Both these at once, and widower in addition ! 
 
 This by the following extract you will see, 
 In which our author makes his deposition : 
 
 " My days of love are o'er — no more with me 
 The charms of maid or wife can find admission, 
 
 As once they did. " d I quote from memory, merely t 
 
 And yet I know I'm quite correct, or nearly. 
 
 VII. 
 
 This threefold statement hints a curious fact, 
 If accurate — and I could almost vouch it : 
 
 But I'll not from our author's truth detract 
 So much as to suppose one person doubts it ; 
 
 Yet even if he were not quite exact, 
 
 But made an awkward blunder at the outset, 
 
 'Twas probably an inadvertent slip — 
 
 Such sometimes will escape the pen or lip. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Then as to that which " men call gallantry," 
 •' 'Tis all the fault of that indecent sun."— 
 
 Yet how, you'll ask, does this remark agree 
 With what he says a little further on ; — 
 
 " The moon does these things for us? " e This may be 
 A contradiction ; but we all must own, 
 
 The truth, at any rate, his lay inspires 
 
 When he exclaims that " Poets are such liars !" f 
 
4 APOLOGY FOB 
 
 IX. 
 
 This phrase from one, a poet by profession, 
 Appears a strange acknowledgment to make*. 
 
 And certainly betrays great indiscretion ; 
 Yet stiil it would be most unfair to take 
 
 Advantage of a person's own confession, 
 Especially when character's at stake : 
 
 I therefore (do you show the like civility) 
 
 Regard it as a proof of his humility. 
 
 x. 
 
 That virtuous examples are not needed, 
 None in their senses will presume to say j 
 
 Since moral precepts are pass'd by unheeded, 
 In this our naughty world from day to day.. 
 
 The truth of my remark, then, but conceded,. 
 How great the benefit which mortals may 
 
 Derive from so exemplary a piece 
 
 Of self-exposure, in a bard like this ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 However this may be, our judgment should 
 Be form'd with candour and impartiality : 
 
 Himself he has not always understood ; e 
 
 So that some parts possess that useful quality, 
 
 The obscure — but 'twould be vulgar, low, and rude, 
 On this sole ground to accuse of immorality, 
 
 A work whose eloquence so much surpasses, 
 
 That those it charms not must have ears like — asses'. 
 

 3>0N JUAN. 
 XII. 
 
 '^Come hither, Juan, let me see your face : 
 None can deny that you're a lovely boy ; 
 
 The winning smile, the sweet attractive grace, 
 That fill the gazer with delight and joy, 
 
 Are yours, no doubt, and far exceed my praise : 
 Yet still my rapture suffers some alloy, 
 
 Because — your inclinations are so evil, 
 
 Your very author gives you to the deviL h 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Not that I censure either him or you, 
 The poem, as I said, is strictly " moral," 
 
 And as we find, 'tis " actually true," 
 
 With truth 'twould surely be absurd to quarrel: 
 
 If some find fault, we know that's nothing new ; 
 Envy would blast Apollo's crown of laurel : 
 
 And — oh, poor lad ! some angry at what you did, 
 
 Forget those errors could not be eluded. 
 
 XIV- 
 
 Instead of blame, a case like this demands 
 Our deepest pity and commiseration : 
 
 A hero when he's in a poet's hands, 
 
 Must be content with whate'er situation 
 
 The bard assigns him. If he nobly stands 
 His ground, or basely falls before temptation, 
 
 £Tis but as he's compelled by circumstances, 
 
 Adjusted for him, as the tale advances. 
 
6 
 
 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 XT. 
 
 'Tis said, the ancient Canaanitish nations, 
 
 With sound of timbrels made their children pass 
 
 Through fire to Moloch, whom with such oblations 
 They sought to appease, when public mischief was. 
 
 What heart can be unmoved with such, relations ? 
 Who pities not these helpless children's case ? 
 
 Yet if we should contemplate that of Juan 
 
 In the same light, no doubt 'twould be the true one. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 For only think — at one time we perceive him 
 A charming boy, to whom the' muse had given 
 
 Such virtues, that a saint you might believe him ; 
 " He seem'd, at least, in the right road to heaven," 
 
 But soon the scene shifts, and those virtues leave him,. 
 To be, alas ! through gulfs of lewdness driven ; 
 
 Till destiny completes his direful fall, 
 
 And " endless showers of hell fire " expiate alL 
 
 xvti. 
 
 A sketch of Juan's life I've given you here, 
 His doom is mention' d by anticipation ; 
 
 For though he has not finish' d his career, 
 We've several hints about its termination. 
 
 " Poetic justice " will in this appear — 
 Or, truth to say, poetic reprobation ! 
 
 For ere his life begins, the poem shews, 
 
 In the first stanza, its predestined close, 
 
DON JUAN. 7 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 If censure must lie somewhere then, don't throw it 
 On him, nor rigidly his errors seize on : 
 
 I'd have you think, too, ere you blame the poet, [son, 
 That for this course there may have been some rea- 
 
 I don't know what, but he will let us know it 
 (If nought prevent him) at some future season : 
 
 You mast have patience then — remember that — 
 
 And if you won't, I'll make you, — so that's flat. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 I wish to use civility, but I'm 
 
 Compell'd to language that may seem unpleasant : 
 These things will all be specified in time, 
 
 Although " postponed discreetly for the present ; ' ' 
 'Twas only that I would prevent a crime, 
 
 That I thought proper just to give you this hint; 
 For certes, 'twere a crime, and one most heinous, 
 To treat with disrespect so great a genius. 
 
 xx. 
 
 His genius here again comes in our way, 
 In truth, 'tis hard to keep it out of sight : 
 
 Though theme more pleasing ne'er inspired my lay, 
 To do it justice I'm unable quite. 
 
 O Bard immortal ! grant one heavenly ray, 
 
 To guide my muse in her adventurous flight : 
 *For since she spurns each intellectual fetter, 
 
 And plumes her wings to soar, I'll even let her. 
 
8 APOLOGY FOlt 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Genius ! we hail thee, whose unrivall'd might 
 Subdues and sways the captivated mind ! 
 
 Who lives, that doth not, will not own thy bright, 
 Thy godlike charms, and empire unconfin'd ? 
 
 Away, beyond, o'er all thou tak'st thy flight, 
 And leav'st the blazing comet far behind : 
 
 Thy more than magic skill creates around us 
 
 Scenes that delight, astonish, or confound us. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Thou shak'st thy wand, and lo ! the lightnings flash, 
 The hoarse wind rages and the* thunders roar ; 
 
 The boiling waves and tumbling billows lash 
 With headlong violence the resounding shore. 
 
 Hark ! far away, a loud tremendous crash 
 
 Proclaims the vessel's fate ; — 'tis heard no more : 
 
 The storm yet rages, but the seamen sleep, 
 
 O'erwhelm'd and buried in the yawning deep. 1 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Thou speakest, and the tempest stills its raving, 
 
 And heaven assumes its calmest, loveliest hue ; 
 While verdant fields, and trees their foliage waving, 
 
 Around us smile, and Eden blooms anew : 
 Or scenes of gay licentiousness, enslaving 
 
 The inexperienced heart, thou bring'st to view. — 
 Aye — thou hast boundless power for good or evil — 
 
 Can'st bless or curse — can'st act the god or devil. 
 
i>ON JUAN. 9 
 
 XXIT. 
 
 By thy enchanting voice invited forth, 
 
 We view, — and that without corporeal motion — 
 
 The various nations of the peopled earth, 
 
 And trace the features of the land and ocean : 
 
 Here mountains rise, and mighty streams have birth ;- 
 There burning deserts spread, no land of Goshen : 
 
 Thou bid'st us view all climes ; the temperate, torrid^ 
 
 And frozen — with its black pine forests horrid. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 To thee the proud prerogative is given 
 
 To look through all things — and beyond them too : 
 Not hell's abyss beneath, nor highest heaven, 
 
 Can aught conceal from thy all-piercing view. 
 Though Nature's ample realm be thine, and even 
 
 Destruction's empire thou hast travell'd through, 
 Yet not in these hast thou thy habitation, 
 But in thine own world — Fancy's fair creation. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 There from afar I see thy temple shine, 
 
 Whose distant gleam our fond pursuit engages ; 
 
 Around thine altar the celestial Nine 
 
 Becount the illustrious deeds of former ages ; 
 
 There Fame records in characters divine, 
 The names of patriots, heroes, poets, sages ; 
 
 TSiere too, by thee inspired, in strains the sweetest, 
 
 Sings he — of all thy modern sons "the greatest." 
 
10 APOLOGY FOK 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 And from his lofty intellectual station, 
 
 He rules our passions with despotic sway ; 
 
 Nor can our hearts resist the soft sensation 
 Breath'd over them by his all-soothing lay : 
 
 By him led forth how oft with exultation 
 Have I beheld the sun's expiring ray, 
 
 When the bright west with crimson radiance glows, 
 
 And the still twilight breathes her soft repose. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 '* Ave Maria ! blessed be the hour, 
 
 The time, the clime, the spot, 'where I so oft 
 
 Have felt that moment, in its fullest power, 
 Sink o'er the earth so beautiful and soft, 
 
 While swung the deep bell in the distant tower, 
 Or the faint dying day-hymn stole aloft, 
 
 And not a breath crept through the rosy air, 
 
 And yet the forest leaves seem'd stirr'd with prayer ," k 
 
 5 Twas not in Italy nor Greece, 'tis true, 
 But further north, I felt as I've related ; 
 
 Yet scenes in our own clime we sometimes view, 
 By this description not at all o'er-rated, 
 
 That yield " emotions beautiful and new," 
 And overpowering, as above I've stated ; 
 
 When earth and sky, all voiceless, seem to raise 
 
 Their tribute of unutterable praise. 
 
Don juan. 11 
 
 xxx. 
 
 Within our sea-girt island, Peace has dwelt, 
 For ages ; while remote from clashing arms, 
 
 The wise have taught, the good and pious knelt ; 
 Here law protects, and love of freedom warms ; 
 
 And here, " sweet hour of twilight !'' first I felt 
 Thee in thy whole omnipotence of charms : 
 
 When earth seem'd in her loveliest robe array'd, 
 
 And heaven, as now, her heavenliest hour display'd, 
 
 xxxi. [wild 
 
 When the heavens frown, and lightnings flash, and 
 
 Winds roar, the strife sublimer feelings moves ; 
 But, though less grand, there's something in the mild 
 
 And softer scenes of nature, that one loves : 
 " The ocean slumbering like an unwean'd child," 
 
 And whispering winds, and scarcely waving groves, 
 And twilight skies, impress the heart so sweetly, 
 Their tendency is to improve it greatly. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 And in the calm and silent moonlight hour, 
 The stars all twinkling round the glowing pole, 
 
 When not a single cloud is seen to lour, 
 
 And Nature breathes her stillness to the soul, 
 
 " The silver light which, hallowing tree and tower, 
 Sheds beauty and deep softness o'er the whole :' r 
 
 (1 like so much to quote — my pilfering Muse 
 
 Begs that these trifling extracts you'll excuse.) — 
 
12 APOLOGY FOft 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 I say, that scenes like these the heart impress, 
 And lead to high and holy contemplation : 
 
 The world forgot, I find in this recess, 
 
 (All passions hush'd by heavenly meditation) 
 
 A power and presence that supremely bless, 
 Pervading this great temple of creation ; 
 
 And feelj while thus in adoration bended, 
 
 As if the Godhead visibly descended-. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 All nature now is *' still, though not in sleep, 
 And breathless — as we grow* when feeling most \ 
 
 And silent — as we stand in thoughts too deep ;"' 
 All nature now is still ; from the high host 
 
 Of stars unnumber'd, pouring down the steep 
 Of heaven a flood of light, to the bright coast 
 
 That girds the ocean, on whose liquid breast 
 
 The unruffled atmosphere hath sunk to rest. 
 
 Xxxv. 
 Maker of all things ! good and wise art thou, 
 
 And powerful, as thy wondrous works declare J— 
 Yet not those glories, that adorn the brow 
 
 Of sable Vested night— not moon, nor star, 
 Nor aught sublime or beautiful below, 
 
 Can with thy noblest work, the mind, compare I 
 Though bright and lovely, yet unconscious these, 
 'Tis mind alone, that lives, and feels, and sees I 
 
BON JUAN. 1$ 
 
 XXXYI. 
 
 If minds had not existed, all beside, 
 
 Of great and glorious, had been made in vain ; 
 
 Without the conscious spirit to reside 
 
 Beneath this concave heaven, the wide domain 
 
 Of nature were a vast, unoccupied, 
 And dreary waste — the solitary reign 
 
 Of everlasting silence : — 'tis the soul — 
 
 That spark divine — that animates the whole. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 The soul ! — that looks around ; and sees, unseen,— 
 
 That with one glance unnumber'd worlds descries, 
 That ponders all that is, or e'er hath been, 
 
 And into the dark future boldly pries : — 
 Bears she no value ? seems her nature mean ? 
 
 By the bright worlds that throng yon azure skies s 
 The glorious worth and dignity she boasts 
 
 Outweigh the pomp of all yon glittering hosts ! 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Father of souls ! Inspirer of my song ! 
 
 Fountain of intellectual energy ! — 
 From thee derived, to thee my powers belong : 
 
 O let my spirit find her rest in thee ! 
 Hence ye profane, self-idolizing throng, 
 
 Who spurn all obligation : — pray do ye 
 Yourselves self-made and self-sustain'd opine f 
 Or by the bounty of the Power divine ? 
 
14 APOLOGY FOE 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 But since ye boast of reason, would ye use it, 
 
 'Twould teach you that to Him who made the soul, 
 
 Te owe obedience, and should ye refuse it, 
 Dispensing with such " troublesome control," 
 
 Your triumph will be short ! your Maker views it 
 With just displeasure — nor is this the whole : 
 
 I'd have you tremble for the consequences, 
 
 And ponder what your future recompense is ! 
 
 XL. 
 
 But such remarks excite, no doubt, your scorning ; 
 
 " Fine truths," ye call them : aye, fine truths indeed ! 
 " This is a liberal age " — and so^ood morning : 
 
 'Tis time that with my subject I proceed. : 
 I'll therefore urge no more a useless warning ; 
 
 But since remorse will yet to crime succeed, 
 If that your prostituted powers procure it ye, — 
 But, that shall be decided by futurity. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Wit — genius — learning — science — I admire, 
 But Virtue more — she even excels alone ; 
 
 With these conjoin' d, she sets their value higher, 
 While these her absence never can atone. 
 
 Virtue extinct, and parts abused, require 
 
 A deeper sigh than states and realms o'erthrown : 
 
 Virtue extinct, the mind in ruin lies, 
 
 And empires pass away when virtue dies.™ 
 
DON JUA.M". 15 
 
 XLII. 
 
 O, 'tis a lamentable sight to see 
 
 A towering genius, a gigantic mind 
 By vice enslaved, with man at enmity, 
 
 His powers exerting to corrupt his kind, 
 To spread a moral pestilence where'er he 
 
 Can make his influence operate, and to bind 
 The spell, the fatal spell, that lures us on 
 Till, like the Sirens' victims, we're undone." 
 
 XLIH. 
 
 But if you'd have me point out place and person, 
 I'd rather be excused. You must allow, 
 
 There have been bards whose lays inflict a curse on 
 Posterity — and if some living now 
 
 Have pour'd their wanton and licentious verse on 
 The public ear and morals ; any how 
 
 My judgment, given with such impartiality, 
 
 Shall not degenerate into personality. 
 
 ' XL1V. 
 
 * ; Ovid's a rake, as half his verses show him, 
 Anacreon's morals are a still worse sample, 
 
 Catullus scarcely has a decent poem, 
 
 I don't think Sappho's ode a good example, 
 
 Although Longinus tells us there is no hymn [ample ; 
 Where the sublime soars forth on wings more 
 
 And Virgil's songs are pure, except that horrid one, 
 
 Beginning with ' Formosum Pastor Corydon.' 
 
|6 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 XLV. 
 
 ''Lucretius' irreligion is too strong 
 
 For early stomachs, to prove wholesome food ; 
 I can't help thinking Juvenal was wrong, 
 
 Although no doubt his real intent was good, 
 For speaking out so plainly in his song, 
 
 So much indeed as to be downright rude ; 
 And then what proper person can be partial, 
 To all those nauseous epigrams of Martial ?'' p 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 But to return-r-of all the bards that are 
 At present in Apollo's train attendant, 
 
 There's one whose powerful genius is by far 
 Above the rest, as I conceive, transcendent -: 
 
 He, truly, like that bright and beaming star 
 Call'd Lucifer, in lustre shines resplendent : 
 
 Like that star's namesake, too, his magnanimity 
 
 Leads him at times to rave with great sublimity. 
 
 XLVII. * 
 
 Kind reader, do not start at this comparison ; 
 
 Nor deem that my design therein is evil : 
 In " Cain a Mystery " our author carries on 
 
 A dialogue, in which he seems to revel [own ; 
 In thoughts and language which appear old Harry's 
 
 Indeed, he would have made a decent devil : q 
 So well has he in this attempt succeeded, 
 Jle seems — but this digression is not needed. 
 
bon juan. 17 
 
 xlviii. 
 
 Unseen by us in his retirement, where 
 
 All-conscious of his strength, secure he dwells, 
 
 Like the young lion, couching in his lair, 
 His heart no foe alarms, no peril quells ! 
 
 Ah ! let not those who wish their safety dare 
 To rouse him up ; for past experience tells 
 
 Too well the sad effects of such temerity ; — 
 
 And Southey feels the weight of his severity. 
 
 XL IX. 
 
 Some other bards he treats with equal rigour, 
 While his right hand the bolt of satire flings, 
 
 With aim unerring, and with no less vigour : 
 Or 3 like the " cubless tigress," lo, he springs 
 
 Forth on the prey ; and then — to change the figure — « 
 Mounting aloft on Pegasean wings, 
 
 Upon his foes, he, fearless of a fall, 
 
 Looks back, and hurls defiance at them all ; 
 
 L» 
 
 Then plunges in the clouds, where darkness folds 
 Him round, and where the flame-wing'd tempest 
 
 There with the Spirit of the storm he holds [strays ; 
 Mysterious converse : sometimes in the blaze 
 
 He soars of solar glory, and beholds 
 
 Undazzled, like the bird of Jove, that blaze, 
 
 And dares those heights to which none else aspire, 
 
 JSnd like Prometheus steals celestial fire. 
 
18 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 LI. 
 
 'Tis obvious that this mental elevation 
 
 Gives him, at least in his own view, the right 
 
 To administer, as he may see occasion, 
 
 The lash to all who may presume to write ; 
 
 And in the exercise of this vocation, 
 
 Perhaps he's more contemptuous than polite : 
 
 But this we can't regard with much astonishment, 
 
 Since he's himself above the fear of punishment. 
 
 LII. 
 
 Yet, I must say, I've thought that scorn of others 
 Which he displays at every opportunity, 
 
 Is not a handsome quality in authors, 
 
 Even when they're certain of complete impunity 
 
 Each, doubtless, should regard the rest as brothers, 
 Or, at the least, as forming one community, 
 
 From which all conduct that's at all tyrannical, 
 
 Should be proscribed as monstrous and satanical. 
 
 LIH. 
 
 Why is our bard forgetful of that courtesy 
 His favorite Horace deem'd to others due — 
 
 Who certainly was never half so pert as he ? 
 That his ambition was as great, is true. 
 
 Here's proof, " Sublimi feriam sidera vertice." r 
 Thus he aspired ; — and yet he tells us too, 
 
 To please the " genus irritabile vatum," 
 
 He suffered much 8 —our Bard can only hate 'em. 
 
DON JUAN. 19 
 
 LIV. 
 
 Like Cromwell when, with victory elated, 
 
 He turned the Commons out of doors, and le veil' d 
 
 Ungracious words at those whom most he hated ; 
 Even so our bard without control hath revelled : 
 
 While they, alas ! who have been so ill-fated, 
 Be-rhymed — and I had almost said, be-devil'd — 
 
 Have been obliged reluctantly to yield, 
 
 And leave him sole possessor of the field. 
 
 LV. 
 
 One is a " blockhead " " crazed beyond all hope," 
 
 A second " drunk," a "third so quaintand mouthy ;" 
 Infact, scarce good enough to stretch a rope: [drouthy, 
 
 *' Jack Cades of sense and song," who "hiss," being 
 *' Above the graves" of " Milton, Dryden, Pope" — 
 
 Such 'Coleridge/ 'Poet Wordy,' and 'Bob Southey' 
 Are said to be ; their names on many a page ' 
 Emblazon'd, call forth all our author's rage. 
 
 I, VI. 
 
 I don't know what their ill-deserts may be ; 
 
 And wonder he such epithets should use : 
 'Tis also unaccountable to me, 
 
 That he should be so angry with " the Blues :" n 
 But, as I'm fond of true philosophy, 
 
 I much regret his temper he should lose : — 
 Such flowers of rhetoric raise our author's glory, 
 Though not at all essential to his story. 
 
20 APOLOGY FO£ 
 
 LYIT. 
 
 Well, I suppose these bards must feel his debtors,- 
 For that distinction and regard thus shown 'em 5. 
 
 And surely they must be ungrateful creatures, 
 Unless they readily consent to own him 
 
 Protector of the commonwealth of letters ; 
 
 Or else resolve at once its king to crown him -. 
 
 By several precedents I here might show, 
 
 That such proceeding would be good in law.. 
 
 LVIII, 
 
 By right of conquest, with imperial sway ? 
 
 He'd rule not only poets and ,poetics, 
 But authors too in every other way — 
 
 History, theology, and dialectics — > 
 Who, without doubt, will instantly obey 
 
 The dictum of this autocrat of critics ;. 
 Or if they won't obey his sovereign nod, 
 He says — and swears — that he'll lay on the rod/ 
 
 LIX, 
 
 " You shall not write, in short, but what I choose 5 
 This is true criticism !" such legislation 
 
 Leaves us no option : how can we refuse 
 Allegiance ? Do you call it usurpation ? 
 
 Well, if you thus provokingly abuse 
 
 Our country's glory, boast, and admiration,, 
 
 I'll hear no more, since you so harshly deem, 
 
 But still pursue my interrupted theme. . 
 
DON J-UAJT. 21 
 
 LX. 
 
 Like him he dubs " high priest of all the Nine,' 8 
 (But Milton, I should by the way observe, 
 
 Lest you mistake this parallel of mine, 
 
 Was never known from decency to swerve * 
 
 And his productions so sublime, divine, 
 Maintain a just and dignified reserve : 
 
 Where doth his verse deal censure ? When did he 
 
 Assail his brother bards with obloquy ?)— 
 
 LXT. 
 
 1 say, our author, like this " Prince of Poets,' 4 
 Appears an independent sort of being: 
 
 Whether this parallel will further g-o, it's 
 
 Not mine to 6ay, nor what their lives agree in. 
 
 One fact, though, in his life will furtner shew its 
 Resemblance with — but why expose it, seeing 
 
 Tm no biographer of these odd spouses, 
 
 Whose consorts left, as we are told, their houses. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 Muse"! we^re digressing ; 'tis high time thou wilt own, 
 That we proceed : for Juan is our theme — 
 
 The poem which his lordship's fame is built on-: 
 'Tis my opinion, odd though it may seem, 
 
 That whatsoever people say of Milton — 
 
 Whom I have always held in high esteem — 
 
 He never could have written such a poem, 
 
 *As, were he living now, we soon might show him. 
 
22 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 How beauty and sublimity here link, 
 
 Or rather blend ! Here also you may sigh to 
 
 Scenes of distress — I wonder all don't think 
 Of Juan's excellency just as I do ! 
 
 This, doubtless, of all poems is the pink ; 
 For our instruction does it not provide too ? 
 
 Yet strange to tell, with all these grand pretensions., 
 
 Some have eondemn'd it, — as the poet mentions, 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 I must refer, however, to the place, 
 
 Although this method may be rather tedious ; 
 
 But we shall quicken, by and by, our pace, 
 Besides, omission would appear invidious : 
 
 And here our Author's lamentable case, 
 As he describes it, will to tears oblige us : 
 
 " Through needles' eyes it easier for the camel is- 
 
 To pass, than those two cantos into families." 
 
 LXT. 
 
 How strange is this I what incivility ! 
 
 Ah ! where is judgment gone, and public taste, 
 What apprehension could there justly be 
 
 From the perusal of a tale so chaste ? 
 Or did suspicion wake, because that he 
 
 "With his great name its title has not grac'd ?* 
 However 'twas, I think the Bard had ample 
 Eeason to print no more than that " short sample. " r 
 
DON JUAN. 32 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 Let no one be surpris'd at my expressing 
 
 Concern at such neglect of " parts and merit," — 
 
 And yet I wonder too, that he, possessing 
 
 Such claims to praise, and such a dauntless spirit, 
 
 Should from the public whom he is addressing 
 Conceal his name, as if asham'd to wear it. 
 
 Had he surnam'd and own'd the bright production, 
 
 'Twould have prevented much unkind construction. 
 
 LXVI I. 
 
 In justice to himself, he should have done so, 
 
 Claiming that homage all desire to pay : [so, 
 
 'Twere strange indeed if fame could have been won 
 Its claimant hidden from the face of day : 
 
 And (oh ! for shame, that any should go on so) 
 I cannot tell you half what people say : — 
 
 And I should deem it wrong to give expression 
 
 To all I hear about this odd suppression. 
 
 LXVI II. 
 
 In fact, our Bard has err'd in this omission : 
 
 Although it was not likely to affect 
 His fame as author of this composition, 
 
 Whose real parentage we soon detect. 
 Though so much like a foundling its condition, 
 
 Its features mark its lineage : — with respect 
 To such harsh treatment, I must say, however, 
 I can't consider it laudable or clever. 
 
24 APOLOGY FOE 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 You know,, in Canto fifth we hear him tell us, 
 " The love of offspring's Nature's general law i 
 
 Hence Authors feel, we may conclude, as well as, 
 Inferior natures, the paternal glow. 
 
 I'm sorry that his heart should seem so callous^ 
 His mental offspring thus to disavow : 
 
 Nor can I guess why he withheld a name 
 
 To which it had so natural a claim. 
 
 xxx. 
 
 Child of the Muse ! thou orphan unprotected I 
 Why was thy fate abandoned thus to chance, 
 
 Like the young ostrich by its dam neglected, 
 Whose bringing up depends on circumstance * 
 
 When pirate printers claim'd thee, thus rejected,, 
 No arm was rais'd for thy deliverance : 
 
 But more consideration had been shown thee, 
 
 If that thy author had nat blush' d to own thee.. 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 This by the way — I only hint what should, 
 At least, in my opinion, have been done, 
 
 Though after all, no doubt his lordship could 
 Assign such reasons why he chose to shun 
 
 So much publicity, as fully would 
 
 Explain his motives ; and I do, for one, 
 
 Upon reflection, acquiesce, because, 
 
 I'm sure there must be a sufficient cause. 
 
DON JUAN. 25 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 Perhaps he's not a " follower of fame ;" 
 
 On this my readers' minds, no doubt, will vary : 
 
 Perhaps he modestly conceal'd his name, 
 As being of public admiration weary : 
 
 Perhaps — but no, I'm wrong, he does disclaim, 
 I now remember, the " Nil admirari ;" 
 
 And asks us, " if mankind had not admired, 
 
 Would Pope have sung or Horace been inspired ?'" 8 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 Or, having travell'd in the east of late, 
 
 Perhaps he thus conceals himself with care, 
 
 But as a piece of oriental state ; 
 
 Adopting the imperial custom there. 
 
 Or, as the Delphic Nymph the will of Fate 
 Spoke — so would he his oracles declare, 
 
 With but the Priestess Muse to intervene, 
 
 While he, like Phoebus, claims to be unseen, 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 It could not be that like the dark assassin 
 Of private character and public virtue, 
 
 He wish'd to wear a mask that he might pass in 
 Disguise, in case that he should chance to hurt you ? 
 
 No, no — -if he has laid the lash on, 'twas in 
 His own defence, and also to divert yo u : 
 
 And sure to use a little wholesome satire, 
 
 Is much less censurable than to flatter* 
 
26 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 LXXT. 
 
 'Tis granted that the poem is anonymous, 
 But that don't always prove a bad intention : 
 
 By no means would I seem to throw blame on him, as 
 'Twas prudently contriv'd, as mighthavebeen shown. 
 
 Of this I'm so convinced that I shall own him as 
 A fit example — this in time I mention : 
 
 For — though I'm nobody — like him I mean, 
 
 When I print this, to keep behind the scene* 
 
 lXxvi. 
 
 So much in answer to the charge of slander, 
 If any should be bold enough to make it : 
 
 For public virtue, you must understand here, 
 He could have no desire at all to shake it. 
 
 How far from truth conjectures sometimes wander, 
 And as to motive, — how we may mistake it ! — 
 
 For if he found his " Pegasus not shod ill," 
 
 He meant his tale to be *' a moral model ! ,,aa 
 
 LXXTII. 
 
 I've not much more to say, as it regards 
 
 This point; I once before have given you my sense : 
 
 He has, 'tis obvious, like most other bards, 
 Of virtue and morality a high sense ; 
 
 If modesty he now and then discards, 
 "This liberty is a poetic license :"— 
 
 The chastest Muse will sometimes have her way, 
 
 Vnd where she'll lead to then, 'tis hard to say. 
 
DON JUAN. "2 
 
 LXXYII. 
 
 If, notwithstanding, people will assert 
 This license has a dangerous tendency, 
 
 And that 'twill very likely do much hurt 
 To those who read his verses carelessly ;-— * 
 
 To such I answer (not to controvert 
 The assertion just at present) I'll agree 
 
 That, if you please, the poem shall be torn in 
 
 Pieces, unless I show he gives due warning. 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 But this I'll quickly do ; so if you put 
 . The worst construction — though 'tis hardly faif- 
 On certain passages, why do so ; but 
 
 I hope you'll keep in mind that he takes care 
 To caution, by directing you to " shut 
 
 The book that treats of this erroneous pair, 
 Before the consequences grow too awful : 
 'Tis dangerous to read of loves unlawful." 
 
 ixxx. 
 You'll own that this is fair, and as it should be, 
 
 To warn us previously of his intention ; 
 Though such a caution in most cases would be, 
 
 The way to awaken a more strict attention : 
 And if you're puzzled to know how it would be, 
 
 That he should have employ' d his fine invention 
 In framing what should such a caution needj 
 Arfd what he knows is " dangerous to read;" 
 
28 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 JLXXXl. 
 
 Your wonder shall be but of short duration, 
 
 Since that intelligence I can supply, 
 In reference to this tale's publication ; — 
 
 Not that I've yet had opportunity 
 To know, by personal communication 
 
 With my illustrious friend, the reason why ; 
 But what I say is merely the result 
 Of reading that which you may all consult ; — 
 
 LXXXTI. 
 
 I mean the tale itself. It may seem needless 
 To lay before you what's derived from thence : 
 
 But many readers are so rash and heedless — 
 It is for their sakes I pen this defence : 
 
 I really wish they'd think more, should theyreadless, 
 And not resign their judgment and their sense ; 
 
 But as the case is, it may be of use 
 
 To mention something in the Bard's excuse. 
 
 Lxxxnr. 
 
 'Tis not required that I say much : however, 
 One or two reasons I shall now assign 
 
 To clear him from all calumny whatever, 
 And show how innocent was his design : 
 
 In doing this it will be my endeavour, 
 As far as practicable, to combine 
 
 Briefness and perspicuity together ; 
 
 And if I can in his own words, I'd rather. 
 
DON JUAN. 29 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 " Man's a strange animal and make's strange use 
 Of his own nature and the various arts, 
 
 And likes particularly to produce 
 
 Some new experiment to shew his parts : 
 
 This is the age of oddities let loose, 
 Where different talents find their different marts : "** 
 
 And if "true genius" finds its "pockets emptied," 
 
 What will it leave, to fill them, unattempted ? 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 You doubtless now begin to understand, 
 
 This was his " mode of raising a supply ; " 
 " In liquid lines melhiuously bland," 
 
 He wish'd to charm and soothe and gratify 
 The passions of his " gentle readers, and 
 
 Still gentler purchasers : " you may guess why- 
 He having " spent both interest and principal 
 Of life, and found his soul no more invincible." 
 
 LXXXYI. 
 
 I give it you in his own language, which is 
 In such a case, I think, the fairest way ; 
 
 And here I also may remark, that riches 
 Have seldom recompensed the poet's lay j 
 
 For most of these who occupy the niches 
 In Glory's temple, suffered in their day 
 
 The frowns of Fortune, whose delight we see it W 
 
 To oppress the favourites of other deities. 
 
30 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 I therefore would most earnestly advise 
 
 My gifted friends, who know that human nature 
 
 Requires the good which Fortune's hand supplies, 
 With due regard, in time to come, to treat her. 
 
 I also must applaud his lordship's wise 
 And prudent plan, thus to propitiate her 
 
 Favour ; and that while writing " epic " verse, 
 
 He had in view the improvement of his purse. cc 
 
 LXXXYIII. 
 
 There may be one more reason^ which makes two— 
 His stoicism. You know he'<s a Philosopher 
 
 As well as a Poet : calmly could he view 
 
 The sinking ship, and jest about the loss of her : 
 
 And when that boatful of the famish'd crew 
 
 Devour Pedrillo's flesh and blood, and toss over 
 
 The entrails and the brains into the sea, 
 
 Compassion yields to jocularity. 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 Such feelings by Philosophy subdued, 
 Relieve one from the irksome tax of pity. 
 
 Our bard quotes Dante also, to allude 
 In his own way, so horrible, yet witty, 
 
 To Ugolino, who devoured for food 
 
 His enemy's head, and makes a very pretty 
 
 Excuse for those who, when provision ends 
 
 At sea, are forced to " dine upon their friends." 
 
DON JUAN. 31 
 
 XC. 
 
 He also talks about the master's mate 
 In the same vein of pleasantry and sport ; 
 
 Who had, it seems, been indisposed of late, 
 From certain causes of a nameless sort ; 
 
 "Which saved him from Pedrillo's dreadful fate. dd 
 These are in truth diverting things — in short, 
 
 "To feel for none, is the true social art 
 
 Of the world's stoics — men without a heart. " ee 
 
 xci. 
 'Twas therefore quite in character that he 
 
 Should feel no very violent concern 
 For consequences, if the thing could be 
 
 So managed as to serve a useful turn. 
 The use of money every one can see ; 
 
 The way to get it few are slow to learn : 
 Yet who, alas, can Pleasure's witchcraft shun, 
 Since " flesh is frail, and so the soul undone !" 
 
 " Ah vice ! how soft are thy voluptuous ways, 
 While boyish blood is mantling, who can 'scape 
 
 The fascination of thy magic gaze ! 
 
 A cherub-hydra round us dost thou gape." ff 
 
 Why, since 'tis thine so fatally to please, 
 Do bards display thy most alluring shape ? 
 
 Do tjiey suppose our " Nature's good old college " 
 
 Too slow in teaching us illicit knowledge r 
 
32 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 XCTTI. 
 
 Yet, right or wrong, a worthy end's in view, 
 And that will doubtless sanctify the means : 
 
 The public may be sufferers, 'tis true ; 
 But what's their loss when balanced with his gains? 
 
 Remember what advantages accrue, 
 
 To recompense our Bard's poetic pains ; 
 
 Who for a " good old gentlemanly vice," 
 
 Has lately " taken up with avarice. '' Bff 
 
 xciv. 
 I said that he's a stoic, but I must 
 
 Beg you will not mistake me — recollect* 
 I don't say that his principles are just 
 
 Exactly those of Zeno's ancient sect : 
 They did not think that man is wholly dust, 
 
 Nor that his god is Pleasure — with respect 
 To Intellect, they did not think it's " use 
 Depends so much upon the gastric juice." 
 
 In this he more agrees with " Epicurus, 
 
 And Aristippus, a material crew, hh 
 Who to immoral courses would allure us 
 
 By theories quite practicable too ; 
 If only from the devil they would ensure us> 
 
 How pleasant were the maxim, (not quite new), 
 Eat drink, and love, what can the rest avail us ? 
 So said the royal sage, Sardanapalus."" 
 
, DON JUA.N. 33 
 
 XCVI. 
 
 Our bard adopts, in order to re- teach 
 
 This good old max m — but I quote again : 
 
 " When o'er the brim the sparkling bumpers reach, 
 That spring-dew of the spirit, the heart's rain ! 
 
 Few things surpass old wine ; and they may preach 
 Who please — the more, because they preach in 
 
 (With this quotation I must go no further ; [vain:" kk 
 
 Or certain people soon would cry out " Murther !") u 
 
 XCVIT, 
 
 Thus sings he : but although he has a mind 
 To send us to the lewd and drunken revel, 
 
 Being rational creatures, yet I do not find 
 That he provides insurance from the devil : 
 
 'Tis true that he appears, at times, inclined 
 Against our immortality to cavil, 
 
 Expecting when this transient life is o'er, 
 
 To be the nothing that he was before. 
 
 XCVIII. 
 
 'Tis true, he also tells us he has got 
 
 " A panoramic view of hell in training ; — 
 
 In Virgil's style and Homer's," — is it not ? 
 
 A fabulous style ? that seems to be his meaning : 
 
 The scripture doctrine of our future lot, 
 He ridicules — without, however, deigning 
 
 T» adduce for its disproof a single reason — 
 
 But " reason thinks all reasoning out of season." 
 
 c 
 
34 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 XCIX. 
 
 Yet after all, the indulgence is not plenary, 
 Nor the security from hell complete : 
 
 'Tis not by " mythological machinery" 
 That faith or fear can suffer a defeat ; 
 
 And the most " handsome supernatural scenery"' 
 Will never prove that Conscience is a cheat : 
 
 Why, even our author speaks of tk the Great Whole 
 
 Who hath produced and will receive the soul.' ;am 
 
 c. 
 
 And then, he seems himself quite undecided 
 On the main point : the soul's immortal nature 
 
 H e oftener has asserted than denied it ; nn 
 
 Nor faith nor doubt has grown to its full stature : 
 
 So much, in fact, his mind appears divided 
 'Twixt infidel and christian nomenclature, 
 
 That, when I think on't, I can hardly keep 
 
 From— but there's equal cause to laugh and weep. 
 
 ci. 
 ■I'm really guilty of a smile, when I 
 
 Behold him gazing on his friend's dead body, 
 His optical acuteness thus to try ; 
 
 And there expecting, like a simple noddy, 00 
 The mind in its departure to espy ! 
 
 Could you suppose, that in a way so odd, he 
 Should ever think to " wrench aught out of death 
 Which might confirm, or shake, or make a faith." 
 
DON JUAN. 85 
 
 CI I. 
 
 " But it was all a mystery : — here we are, 
 
 And there we go : — but where? Five bits of lead, 
 
 Or three, or two, or one, send very far ! 
 
 And is this blood, then, form'd but to be shed ? 
 
 Can every element our elements mar, 
 And air, earth, water,, fire, live, and we dead ? [tion 
 
 We whose minds comprehend all things ?" pp Tis a ques- 
 
 Of vast importance ; that, indeed, we must own. 
 
 CIII. 
 
 I certainly admire its depth and wisdom ; 
 
 But yet I can't see why a ghost was wanted, 
 To give our Bard an answer — though it pleased him 
 
 So modestly to wish that aid were granted. 
 That fit of curiosity which seized him, 
 
 By no means would I have burlesqued, or taunted ; 
 For though, at first, I could not choose but smile, 
 In truth, I'm really serious all the while. 
 
 civ. 
 Because, when I consider how unpleasant 
 
 A state of doubt is, I lament to see 
 Our author's bright muse, like the wounded pheasant, 
 
 Struggling in dust and darkness ; and that he 
 Seems rack'd with mental agonies incessant, 
 
 A helmless voyager tow'rds eternity : 
 I grieve, I say, to see him thus the prey 
 Of torturing doubts, which grant no holiday. 
 
36 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 cv. 
 
 " The race of life becomes a hopeless flight 
 
 To those who walk in darkness ;"^ for although 
 
 "Wealth, fame, and pleasure, may by turns invite, 
 Their charms soon fade, and we too surely know 
 
 By sad experience, each dear-bought delight 
 Serves but to aggravate succeeding woe ; 
 
 Just like the momentary flash, whose glare 
 
 Deepens the gloom, and darker leaves the air. 
 
 GVI. 
 
 Why is it thus, in this our world of sin ? 
 
 Is this despair man's folly ? «or his fate ? 
 Doth Providence foredoom, ere life begin, 
 
 A joyless, vain, uncertain, anxious state ? 
 Ah, no ! — let Conscience answer from within : 
 
 Her still, small whisper, not the enormous weight 
 Of daring doubts, piled up to menace heaven, 
 Can silence— such the power to Conscience given. 
 
 cvii. 
 She vindicates the Maker, and decides 
 
 In spite of pride, self-love, and unbelief, 
 That Heaven for human happiness provides ; 
 
 But wayward man rejects the kind relief, 
 And, blindly wandering on, where Passion guides, 
 
 Pursues what soon or late must end in grief: 
 She checks the guilty in their headlong speed, 
 And shows the gulf to which their courses lead. 
 
DON JUAN. 37 
 
 CVIII. 
 
 Thus when the self- will' d boy, dislike conceiving 
 To counsel and restraint, forsakes his home ; 
 
 O'er the Paternal threshold which he's leaving, 
 Why does he pause ! — as if to overcome 
 
 Ill-timed reflections on the pain he's giving, 
 And most intrusive thoughts about the doom 
 
 Of such as, slighting those who being gave, 
 
 Bring their grey hairs with sorrow to the grave. 
 
 cix. 
 
 And why, when sparkles the enchanting cup 
 Of pleasure in the libertine's right hand, — ■ 
 
 Amid the festive train, the joyous group 
 
 Of youth, love, beauty, all that might command 
 
 Unfeign'd delight — mourns he his baffled hope ? 
 And whence that heart-sick dread — as if he scann'd 
 
 Those words of fear inscribed upon the wall, 
 
 Which shook Belshazzar in his kingly hall r 
 
 ex. 
 
 It is the pang of Conscience, deep and keen ; 
 
 It is the voice of Nature, rendering vain 
 Each wrong expedient : through each changing scene 
 
 " Still clings around invisibly a chain 
 Which galls for ever ; fettering, though unseen, 
 
 And heavy, though it clank not" rr — 'twill remain, 
 Pressing the spirit downward, till it seeks 
 That peace which Mercy to the contrite speaks. 
 
38 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 CXI. 
 
 The fact's the same, whatever bards have penn'd, 
 Whose wit sometimes their judgment hath outrun : 
 
 That Conscience is God's umpire, some contend, — 
 A god, a guardian angel — 'tis all one : 
 
 "While some traduce her as a juggling fiend, 
 Who cries " I warned thee," when the deed is done. 
 
 She spoke before ; — but when our passions struggle 
 
 Against conviction, that's the real juggle. 
 
 CXII. 
 
 Man's spirit may sustain his outward care 
 Without repining — so the wise man saith : 
 
 But, could you view the oppressor's breast laid bare, 
 You'd shudder at the hell that lurks beneath. 
 
 O Guilt ! thy scorpion lashes who can bear ? 
 Thou art the bane of life and sting of death : 
 
 Constrain'd by thee a sigh ev'n scorners heave, 
 
 And atheists tremble while they disbelieve ! 
 
 CXIII. 
 
 But might we not imagine that the man 
 
 Who doth his immortality deny, 
 Though dark and comfortless through life's short span, 
 
 Would yet, at least, unscared by terror die ? 
 Behold him, on his death-bed, wild and wan ; 
 
 How his heart gives his former creed the lie ! 
 Voltaire! couldst thou — thou mighty master spirit, 
 Look undismay'd on death, when drawing near it ? ss 
 
DON JUAN. 39 
 
 CXIV. 
 
 No : thy Philosophy gave way, when most 
 Its aid was needed : and thy latest hour 
 
 Hath taught a lesson which will not be lost ; 
 A lesson that shall neutralize the power 
 
 Of thy vain sophistry, and shame the host 
 
 Of thosethat war with virtue. Virtue's dower, 
 
 At least, is rich in hope and present peace, 
 
 If even existence with pulsation cease. 
 
 CXY. 
 
 But what if those foreboding terrors should 
 Be too well-founded, as perhaps they may ? 
 
 And what, if Conscience, now so oft withstood, 
 Arraign the impious at some future day ? 
 
 What if the pangs o'er which the guilty brood, 
 Should not be of the pangs which pass away ? 
 
 Well — if 'twere but an even chance, I'd try 
 
 To live so that I should not fear to die ! 
 
 cxvi. 
 I think, though, that the chance is hardly even, 
 
 But rather leans to the affirmative side ; 
 I think those moral sentiments engraven 
 
 On human hearts, are no unfaithful guide. 
 Would He, the All-righteous and All-wise, have giv'n 
 
 A rational nature, that at last the void 
 Of non-existence might defraud the just 
 Of that reward which is their hope and trust ; 
 
40 APOLOGY FOE, 
 
 CXVII. 
 
 And prove a shelter to the harden' d wretch, 
 Who triumphs here in his impunity ? 
 
 What boldness dares the Godhead thus impeach ; 
 Or charge him with bestowing what would be 
 
 Far worse than useless ? Ne'er could Reason teach 
 A sentiment so monstrous, as that he 
 
 Knows not, or cares not, how his creatures act, 
 
 Or that he is the friend of vice, in fact. 
 
 cxvin. 
 Impartial Justice, 'tis presumed, would make 
 
 A mark'd, an obvious difference between 
 The good and evil : — him who for the sake 
 
 Of mean self-interest, power, or pride, hath been 
 A trampler on his kind, allowed to shake 
 
 An iron sceptre for a while o'er men ; 
 And him who spends his life in doing good," 
 Or, in his country's cause hath spilt his blood. 
 
 cxix. 
 The virtuous have even here, as I must own, 
 
 The advantage on their side ; a bosom treasure, 
 And sources of enjoyment all unknown 
 
 To vicious men — a true and constant pleasure. 
 And there are ills incurr'd by Vice alone, 
 
 Which on its votaries make a frequent seizure ; 
 So that a kind of retribution we, 
 To some extent, may even in this life see : — 
 
DON JUAN. 41 
 
 CXX. 
 
 Enough to prove, at least, that there is One 
 
 Who rules in righteousness the world he made. 
 
 But still, though justice is in part begun, 
 As yet, 'tis but imperfectly display'd : 
 
 The proud, the guilty, oft contrive to shun 
 The lingering vengeance, and at last are laid 
 
 In soft repose upon the lap of earth, 
 
 To mingle dust with all that's left of worth. 
 
 CXXI. 
 
 Hence we conclude — as probable, at least — 
 A future state ; in which the unbodied mind 
 
 Shall still be conscious, when life's cares have ceas'd 
 To engage, or interest ; and in which mankind 
 
 Shall view their present conduct with increas'd 
 Dissatisfaction or delight, and find 
 
 The deeds they here have acted, ill or well, 
 
 Such as " eternity cannot annul." 
 
 CXXI I. 
 
 A state in which the plan on earth begun 
 By Him who governs this terrestrial ball, 
 
 With added lustre shall be carried on, 
 
 To its completion — when at Heaven's high call, 
 
 Mankind shall stand before the Almighty's throne, 
 And all confess that God is just in all : 
 
 Tfte guilty shrinking from their Judge's frown, 
 
 While Virtue claims her meed — the victor's crown. 
 
42 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 CXXIII. 
 
 Well — I will dream it is so : if to yield 
 
 Assent where reason sways us, is to dream — 
 
 If Nature's firsthand strongest wish be held 
 Vain and delusive — if we are to deem 
 
 Analogy no guide™ — if truth conceal' d 
 
 For ever from, us, must like falsehood seem, 
 
 While falsehood seems like truth — why then let me 
 
 Still dream, at least, of im mortality. 
 
 CXXIV. 
 
 For me, 'tis not enough to know, I am; 
 
 But once in being, I would always be : 
 Nor I alone, the general wish the same — 
 
 All feel that thirst for immortality, 
 Which our illuminati, though they blame, 
 
 Cannot remove : — Man clings to being ; he [us) 
 Shrinks from the thought (when cunning would betray 
 Of quench'd existence and returning chaos. 
 
 cxxv. 
 This glorious instinct, thus bestow'd on man — 
 
 What can remove it! what our hopes invert ? 
 Most surely, nought but downright madness can : 
 
 The madness of the head, or of the heart- 
 Both dreadful, but the last more monstrous than 
 
 The gloom of him whom reason doth desert.- — 
 He only,. who by guilt hath brought despair, 
 Hopes for the grave, to sleep for ever there. 
 
DON JUAN. 43 
 
 CXXVI. 
 
 And in this instinct do we not discern 
 An index that points out a future life r 
 
 Or may we not, as in a preface , learn, 
 That in the volume of existence, rife 
 
 With many a page, o'er which we now must mourn, 
 Those yet unopen'd will remove our grief, 
 
 And satisfy our hopes ? — If such hopes die, 
 
 Nature deceives us — Man was made a lie. vv 
 
 exxvn. 
 
 " But it was all a mystery. Here we are, 
 
 And there we go ; but where :" — I cannot tell. 
 
 And yet the visible present hath its share 
 Of what is quite incomprehensible : 
 
 'Tis the dim dawn of knowledge, and 'tis rare 
 That Mystery more than half withdraws her veil 
 
 From any subject: — Matter, on the whole, 
 
 Is hardly less mysterious than the soul. 
 
 CXXVIII. 
 
 The soul even while — embodied — she produces 
 
 Such visible effects, is never seen ; 
 For immaterial substance aye refuses 
 
 The contact of gross, earthly eyes, I ween s 
 In this respect, she can't do as she chooses, 
 
 But must be subject, as she e'er hath been, 
 To the original, unchang'd decree 
 Of Him who made her — limited, through free. 
 
44 APOLOGY FOIL 
 
 CXXIX. 
 
 'Twas therefore not much more to be expected, 
 That when the spirit leaves this house of clay, 
 
 She should be capable of being inspected, 
 Or render' d visible by the solar ray ! 
 
 And, really, if his lordship had detected 
 
 Its flight, when his friend's corpse before him lay, 
 
 'T would seem, without my being the least satirical, 
 
 More than ought else that could occur — a miracle. 
 
 cxxx. 
 
 Will nothing, short of an impossibility, 
 Give satisfaction to the doubting mind ? 
 
 Perhaps it shows good breeding and gentility, 
 When people are to scepticism inclin'd ; 
 
 But sure I am, there can't be much humility, 
 And still less reason, in that foolish kind 
 
 Of false Philosophy, which ' f turns aside 
 
 To blackest shade, nor will endure a guide."™ 
 
 cxxxi. 
 
 Survey those massy, mouldering, moss-grown walls, 
 Yon crumbling arch, and broken battlement : 
 
 The wild wind whistles thro' those once throng'd halls, 
 And Ruin frowns, and Time his rage hath spent : 
 
 The fabric trembles, but not yet itjalls, 
 
 Such strength unto the structure Art hath lent ; 
 
 But who have dwelt within it, since the day 
 
 Its towers uprose, and walls were finish'd ? say ! 
 
DON JUAN. 45 
 
 CXXXII. 
 
 No matter,— they have pass'd away, long since, 
 The dust hath all, ere now, to dust return' d, 
 
 Of fifty generations. Yet, from hence, 
 
 Instruction may be gain'd and wisdom learn'd. 
 
 The mind — the skill which works like these evince, 
 Can it be clay, or with cold clay inurn'd ? 
 
 Can they, for whom these lasting walls were rear'd, 
 
 Have ceas'd to be, because they've disappear'dr 
 
 CXXXIII. 
 
 It is not so ; for though we pass away, 
 We do but pass : at least, I challenge you 
 
 Who teach, there is no future state — who say, 
 Man is all mortal — prove your doctrine true ! 
 
 But this you plainly are not able — nay, 
 'Tis what ye do not even pretend to do : 
 
 With you all's doubt and darkness : then for shame, 
 
 Why should you wish that others felt the same ? 
 
 CXXXIV. 
 
 Our life's a journey, when the goal we reach, 
 We disappear, and leave mere dust behind : 
 
 But Reason and Religion jointly teach 
 The glorious durability of Mind ; 
 
 Unfolding to the enraptur'd view of each 
 Who greatly thinks, a prospect unconflned 
 
 B# time or space, extending far away, 
 
 Into the regions of eternal day. 
 
46 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 cxxxv. 
 
 'Tis hard to say whence sprung the supposition, 
 That death annihilates our noblest part ; 
 
 Or what gave rise to such a, dire suspicion, 
 As doubly sharpens Death's terrific dart : 
 
 One cause, perhaps, there may be — in addition 
 To the desperate wish of a corrupted heart — 
 
 Reason being'weak, and sense and fancy strong 
 
 In human nature, these oft lead us wrong. 
 
 CXXXVI. 
 
 The elements which with our frame are waging 
 Continual war, soon bring us, to the tomb ; 
 
 And since we then no longer can engage in 
 Aught earthly, nor the soul the eye illume ; 
 
 That it exists no longer, some imagine ; 
 
 But why should such extinction be its doom ? 
 
 The body still remains ; — its separation 
 
 From soul involves not its annihilation ! 
 
 CXXXVI I. 
 
 And though the unbodied mind have no connexion, 
 Through these dull organs, with material things 
 
 Must she lose too her power of recollection, 
 And all the knowledge that experience brings ? 
 
 Why may she not still exercise reflection, 
 And mount aloft on Contemplation's wings ? 
 
 Or would it seem so marvellous and strange, 
 
 If she should even survive that mortal^change ? 
 
DON JUAN. 47 
 
 CXXXVIII. 
 
 Why, yes— -it would be — just about as strange as 
 What oft befals her in her present lot : 
 
 She hath survived already, many changes 
 Of her frail partner ; these affect her not. 
 
 In dreams, how free and unconfmed she ranges, 
 Her low companionship with clay forgot ! 
 
 Matter was made for spirit, body meant 
 
 For the soul's use — her humble tenement. 
 
 CXXXIX. 
 
 Yet even the body glorified shall stand, 
 
 For the soul's sake, refined and raised at last ; 
 
 Though now of constant change the subject, and 
 With perishable things it must be class'd, 
 
 Speeding to death : — yet when that fatal strand 
 We touch, and thence look back on all the past, 
 
 The invisible spirit still remains the same, 
 
 In spite of change, and this decaying frame. xx 
 
 Cxl. [thought, 
 
 Tve mention'd dreams : from these 'tis clear, that 
 
 And consciousness, and fancy's operation, 
 May be continued, when the mind hath nought 
 
 To do with things external by sensation ; 
 When sleep a new and wondrous world hath brought 
 
 Of separate life, through which imagination 
 Wkh eagle pinion strays, and spurns all bound, 
 Exulting such enlargement to have found. 
 
48 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 CXLI. 
 
 And thus was sleep ordained by the Creator, 
 
 A presage of our destiny to be ; 
 While dreams bespeak a spiritual nature, 
 
 " And look like heralds of eternity : " yy 
 They show that death will not annihilate her, 
 
 But merely from life's bondage set her free : 
 The deathless spirit — who released from earth, 
 Shall then assert her high, celestial birth. 
 
 CXLI I. 
 
 Hail ! everlasting spirit-r-breath divine 
 
 Of the Almighty ! — Heaven'fc bright offspring, hail ! 
 When sun, and moon, and stars shall cease to shine, 
 
 And earth, and air, and ocean's waters fail, 
 Thou still shalt be — immortal vigour thine ! — 
 
 Their history shall be unto thee a tale 
 Of times so distant, ages so long past, 
 Thou wouldst forget them, could thy knowledge waste. 
 
 CXLIII. 
 
 Hail! thou bright effluence of the Eternal Mind ! 
 
 Made in his image, form'd for his delight ; 
 Ordain' d to triumph in the unconfined 
 
 And blissful presence of the Infinite ! — 
 Yes, thou shalt live, shall really live ! — and find 
 
 Age, sickness, sorrow, pain, death, vanish'd quite — 
 Unless thou now thy proferr'd good refusest, 
 And earthly pleasure for thy portion choosest. 
 
DON JUAN. 49 
 
 CXLIT. 
 
 How lovely and how lasting are the forms 
 Which, thy imagination can give birth to ! 
 
 To distant ages they preserve their charms, 
 
 And shall continue while the heavens and earth do ! 
 
 But that which time with such importance arms, 
 That I know nothing to compare its worth to, 
 
 Is, that our deeds in their effects shall live 
 
 For ever, and their endless meed receive. 
 
 CXJ/V. 
 
 Men's vices injure not themselves alone ; 
 
 The fatal leaven spreads on every side ; 
 And sad examples have too often shown 
 
 The ill effects of talents misapplied. 
 Knowledge is power, they say, and 'tis well known, 
 
 That power hath often play'd the homicide : 
 And he whose glory is on mischief built 
 Proclaims but more extensively his guilt. 
 
 CXLVI. 
 
 Men aim at happiness — and often miss it ; 
 
 They aim at glory, but succeed no better : 
 As for the latter, I would ask, what is it ? 
 
 I fain would learn its value and its nature. 
 Tell me, ye sages, heroes, bards — is this it ? 
 
 Or can ye show a glory that is greater ? 
 That honour which to virtuous deeds is given — 
 The praise of good men, and the applause of heaven. 
 
 D 
 
•50 APOLOGY FOU 
 
 CXLVII. 
 
 The Power to whom our life and all we owe, 
 In condescension hath prescribed the course 
 
 Which man should follow, through this world of woe, 
 Until the soul rejoins her heavenly Source ; 
 
 And he who makes Heaven's will his guide below 
 Need fear no adverse fraud, no hostile force 
 
 To mar his interest, but shall ever find 
 
 Virtue, enjoyment, glory, all combined. 
 
 CXLVTII. 
 
 And dost thou pant for immortality:? 
 
 Beware its counterfeit ! nor, be content 
 With what is but its shadow, when to thee 
 
 That which is real Heavendoth now present:: 
 If truly bless'd and honour'd thou wouldst be, 
 
 Fulfil the end for which thy powers were lent ; 
 Befriend thy species ; serve mankind ; employ 
 Thy talents to improve, .and not destroy. 
 
 CLrx. 
 
 "Of Poets that come down to us through distance 
 Of time and tongues, the foster-babes of Fame, 
 
 Life seems the smallest portion of existence, 
 Where twenty ages gather o'er a name." 
 
 O ! why should Vice from these derive assistance, 
 Or light her torch up at the vestal flame 
 
 That o'er the Muse's sacred altar burns, 
 
 While her apostate sons the .goddess mourns! 
 
DON JUAN. 51 
 
 CL. 
 
 "While Nature lasts their lasting fame shall nourish, 
 And triumph over time and dull decay ; 
 
 When Nature perishes their fame shall perish ; 
 But not the effects of their seductive lay : 
 
 The wasting passions which it serves to cherish 
 The future shall in their full growth display : 
 
 And oh ! Eternity ! thy shoreless ocean 
 
 *We view with fearful and sublime emotion ! 
 
 OLX. 
 
 " Pleasure (whene'er she sings at least)'s a siren, 
 That lures to flay alive the young beginner:" 
 
 Such is the striking language of Lord Byron, [here. 
 Whom I've, by name, thought proper to bring in 
 
 Yet, with her shape and voice, he tunes his lyre on 
 Her charms with such sweet pathos, all would win her .: 
 
 But Homer nods, and I may therefore doubt, 
 
 If Byron well knew what he was about . 
 
 Clrfl. 
 
 At least, I can ? t applaud his inconsistency, 
 
 To plead so well the cruel siren's cause ! 
 But apropos ; — the sage when at a distance he 
 
 Approach' d the sirens' dwelling, wisely chose, 
 To run no risk, being warn'd that whoso listens, he, 
 
 Powerless, could not escape the monster's jaws. 
 -" Pleasure's a siren ! "—act (then like Ulysses ; 
 
 The surest way to escape destruction this is.. 
 
52 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 CLIII. 
 
 Alas ! when men discover — but too late — 
 Their fatal folly ; great beyond comparing ; 
 
 And feel the consequences which await 
 Those who the livery of sin are wearing ! 
 
 How great their misery ! yet at what a rate 
 Men are deluded still by those who daring 
 
 The foremost rank in guilt, like him are lost, 
 
 Whose fall drew down the third part of heaven's host. zz 
 
 CLIV. 
 
 What is the Poet's fame then ?•— his, I mean, 
 Whoe'er he may be, by whose charm the broad 
 
 And beaten way that leads to hell hath been 
 
 Profusely with fresh flowers and flowrets strow'd; 
 
 Whose bosom vents its overflowing spleen, 
 By scattering firebrands, plagues, and death abroad, 
 
 And whose expressions, sentiments, and wishes, 
 
 Reproach his Maker, and affront his species ? 
 
 CLV. 
 
 Why, it is not unlike the fame of those 
 Who gain'd the pinnacle of high renown 
 
 By flight and conquest, and whose glory rose 
 O'er ravaged provinces, and realms o'erthrown ; 
 
 Bequeathing to mankind unnumbered woes : — 
 Such enviable bliss in his, I own : 
 
 " In each how guilt and greatness equal ran ! 
 
 What raised the (bard or) hero, sunk the man." 
 
DON JUAN. 53 
 
 CXVI. 
 
 There's only one slight difference between 
 What these obtain as their respective shares ; 
 
 And here the advantage is the bard's, I ween. 
 War's desolation time at length repairs : 
 
 The bard inflicts more lasting ill, 'tis seen ; 
 
 And hence his glory spreads with lengthening years. 
 
 " Consult the whole of that enormous fame; 
 
 A Tale — that blends his glory with his shame.*' 
 
 CL.VII. 
 
 You won't condemn an extract, when one copies 
 A striking hint in morals or theology — 
 
 The last quotation from the works of Pope is ; 
 Thus endeth Canto first of my Apology : 
 
 And here I may observe, my humble hope is, 
 That my remarks, my plan, and phraseology 
 
 (Forgive so great presumption) you'll find such 
 
 As shall not move you to displeasure much. 
 
 clviii. 
 Should this be my good lack, I'll write some more 
 
 On the same theme, when 'tis my Muse's pleasure- 
 But, tired of her long flight, she must give o'er, 
 
 As she's almost exhausted, you may be sure : 
 I wonder that she did not droop o*efore : 
 
 She now must be allowed a little leisure ; 
 And so I'll only add, that what I've writ, 
 I leave with you — to read, if you think fit. 
 
CANTO II. 
 
 i. 
 Hail ! chief of Bards, immortal Byron, hail 1 
 
 Thy praise I sing, whose fame all praise exceeds ; 
 On such a theme, ah ! what can words avail ? 
 
 An abler pen than mine the subject needs. 
 Yet, what I can, accept. While others rail r 
 
 Or frown, or storm, as inclination leads ; 
 'Tis thus my humble Muse would celebrate thee, 
 And from reproach and slander vindicate thee. 
 
 II, 
 
 O ingrate world ! is scandal the reward 
 
 A writer who would please you must expect? 
 
 Is't thus you treat a meritorious Bard ; 
 And all his claims to gratitude reject? 
 
 Assist me, Muse ! to praise a patriot lord ; 
 To challenge, in his name, mankind's respect 
 
 P make them understand me, while I show 'em 
 
 A little more, the merits of his poem. 
 
56 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 III. 
 
 O ! that I were Longinus— or at least, 
 
 Dry den — or Pope — or Addison— or Johnson ! 
 
 I'd give my gentle readers such a feast 
 
 Of criticism, as they would not wish done soon ; 
 
 But I'm, alas ! " a wooden spoon" at best, 
 And not like ye whom surly Jacob Tons on, a 
 
 The poet's friend — if I remember right — 
 
 Immortalized in lasting black and white. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Ah! what were bards or critics, without thine 
 Essential aid, O muse-befriending Press ! 
 
 Rude, naked, graceless, till thy hand divine 
 Provides a handsome and becoming dress. 
 
 Thanks and good wishes, then, the grateful Nine 
 To thee accord, since, what can they do less ? 
 
 The mighty goose-quill's nought, compared to thee, 
 
 Who spread'st the Muses' fame o'er land and sea. 
 
 v. 
 'Tis true, our shameless, modern grub-street race 
 
 (Compared with whom a Lintot and a Curie 
 Deserve respect) b involve in deep disgrace 
 
 Thy sacred cause — on them the Muse would hurl 
 Her heaviest censures ; but she can't abase 
 
 Them lower than they are — let them unfurl 
 The record of their shame, and not even falter, 
 While showing how well they deserve the halter. 
 
DON JUAN. 57 
 
 VI. 
 
 But I'm digressing — what have I to do 
 With those abandoned ruffian vaticides ; c 
 
 Those worse than Cornish plunderers, who pursue 
 The"r dire intent where greedy instinct guides : 
 
 From them the Muse, disgusted, turns to view 
 The glories of the Press, and justly prides 
 
 Hersslf in publicly her sense recording, 
 
 Of that immense advantage 'tis affording. 
 
 vi f, 
 
 O ! that I were Longinus — but I am not, 
 
 Nor Pope, nor Addison, nor Johnson : I 
 (Although, observe, my destiny I blame not) 
 
 With these, in truth, cannot pretend to vie ; 
 Much less with modern critics — whom I name not, 
 
 Lest I call forth too modest a reply : [ m g> 
 
 Their names, I'm sure, they would not have me spell- 
 Humility's a grace they so excel in ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Their works are fine — I've very often scann'd 'em, 
 And found there just what 1 at present want ; 
 
 Canons of criticism — you understand 'em ? 
 These, as I'm able, I intend to plant 
 
 Against the foe, and fire — perhaps at random : 
 For of my skill I should not care to vaunt, 
 
 Legt you suppose me proud, or vain : however, 
 
 I'll do my very best to be thought clever. 
 
58 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 IX. 
 
 That is to say, I'll do the best I can, 
 
 In his behalf, whose work I am reviewing :: 
 
 Then give me your attention, while the plan 
 Which I've adopted I am still pursuing. 
 
 I've found so much to say since I began, 
 That it demands a second Canto, shewing. 
 
 The grateful debt society is under 
 
 To him who — would break all its ties asunder.. 
 
 x. 
 
 Though like the " fabled Hebrew wanderer," he,. 
 
 All restless, hath retired to climes remote ; 
 Yet neither time, nor distance, nor the sea 
 
 That yawns between, can from his memory blot 
 " The inviolate island of the sage and free :." 
 
 Still labours he our welfare to promote 1 , 
 By perseverance in the scribbling trade ; 
 For thus no doubt a good deal may be made.. 
 
 XI. 
 
 England's the mart where this great poet finds 
 His works go off most easily, and hence 
 
 Though, without doubt, a friend of all mankind's,. 
 Yet would he most especially dispense 
 
 Instruction and delight to British minds ; 
 
 Which ought, beyond all question, to convince 
 
 All persons of his very generous spirit, 
 
 And also of his patriotic merit. 
 
DON JUAN. 59 
 
 XII. 
 
 While thus I honour his exalted worth, 
 
 You must admit, I act with strict propriety; 
 
 As well as when I venture to set forth 
 The advantages resulting to society 
 
 From his late works, of which there is no dearth, 
 He having almost cramm'd us to satiety 
 
 With " samples of the finest orientalism," 
 
 Mix' d with a kind of " Western sentimentalism."' 
 
 XIII. 
 
 I therefore hope my gentle readers will 
 Approve my object, method, and design : 
 
 To please them I shall try with all my skill,. 
 So, if I fail, the fault will not be mine. 
 
 I may not always be perspicuous, — still 
 I hope 'tis seldom you can not divine 
 
 The drift of my expressions, for I'm sure, 
 
 I should be sorry to be found obscure. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 'Tis true some friends of mine have told me, gratis, 
 That I've employ'd a doubtful phraseology. 
 
 They say, the Canto that I wrote of late is 
 Of all things most unlike to an Apology ! 
 
 Because, in sooth, I've not allowed our Vates 
 
 To be all-blameless ! Why, I must acknowledge, I 
 
 Cannot admire his faults, though they're not many, 
 
 1 wish I could say that I know not any. 
 
60 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 XV. 
 
 Flattery I hate, although 'tis grown so common, 
 For which, I think, I merit your applause. 
 
 My sense and reason I'll resign for no man ; 
 And this I mention as a saving clause : 
 
 But yet, when I find fault,— with man or woman,- 
 Tis in a kind and gentle way, because 
 
 I hope to have the same indulgence, when 
 
 There happens a slight slip of my own pen. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 " They accuse me, — me, the present writer of 
 The present poem, of — I know not what — 
 
 A tendency to underrate and scoff" 
 
 At what his lordship lately has been at 
 
 In his Don Juan ! Surely there's enough 
 That I've to bear the blame of, without that! 
 
 I'm true as this steel pen ; then wherefore merit I 
 
 So grave a charge as that of insincerity ? 
 
 XVII. 
 
 I hope that my good-temper won't forsake me, 
 Although I ill can brook the above remark ; 
 
 It can't be fair in people thus to make me 
 Accountable for every thing's that dark. 
 
 If anybody chooses to mistake me, 
 
 I cannot help it ; but if there's a spark 
 
 Of candour in his breast, he'll surely show it, 
 
 By all due reverence to myself, a poet. 
 
DOX JUAN. 61 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 " I would observe, however, 'tis not meant here, 
 To blame a proper, just, and prudent caution ! 
 
 I don't at all approve of those who venture, [on : 
 Thro' right or wrong, with heedless steps to rush 
 
 I rather would apply the strongest censure, 
 When carelessness and levity are thus shown : 
 
 But what I meant was, that in my own case, 
 
 Your hesitation seems quite out of place. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 I know some writers are extremely wrong — 
 I own it, I deplore it, I condemn it — 
 
 Who make the powers of eloquence and song 
 The means of spreading mischief without limit : 
 
 Though great their fame, and their example strong, 
 Even as the tide, yet by God's grace I'll stem it ; 
 
 In truth's impartial balances I'll try them, 
 
 Without being dazzled or deluded by them. 
 
 xx. 
 
 I know these writers labour to conceal 
 
 From unsuspecting eyes the latent danger— 
 
 That with consummate artifice they veil 
 
 Their tricks as doth the juggling money-changer, 
 
 And thus with fraud o'er innocence prevail : 
 
 " For my part, to such doings I'm a stranger ; " 
 
 .Afnd you need, therefore, entertain no fear 
 
 Of any sleight of hand to cheat you here. 
 
62 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 XXI. 
 
 I've warri'd you all against dissimulation ; 
 
 Why should I then myself that charge incur ? 
 Would people exercise discrimination, 
 
 They would not wrongfully such blame transfer. 
 Sincerely, and without equivocation, 
 
 What I before have said, I now aver ; 
 That there are modern poets, in whose works, 
 Conceal' d by beauty's charm, destruction lurks, 
 
 XXII. 
 
 And like the asps in Cleopatra's basket, 
 
 Finds .quick admission to the unguarded breast:: 
 
 O that I could before all eyes unmask it, 
 Dispel the illusion, and the plague arrest ! 
 
 Is it not hard then — let me once more ask it — 
 That I who falsehood do so much detest, 
 
 Should, in a way so strange and unexpected, 
 
 Now find my own integrity suspected. 
 
 xx in. 
 Well, well — if I must suffer for the sins 
 
 Of others, be it so — -but if I'd known, 
 Ere I began, how people would evince 
 
 Their paltry jealousies, I would have thrown 
 My pen and paper on the shelf — but since 
 
 Tis come to this, I will not lay them down.,; 
 But still proceed as hitherto I've done, 
 .Until I finish what my zeal begun — 
 
DON TUAN. 63 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Began — or what you please : (I am not sure 
 About the grammar — genius never teazes 
 
 'Itself about such trifles, being secure 
 Of public approbation, which it seizes. 
 
 The rules of syntax — be they more or fewer — 
 The ten commandments, or whate'er he pleases, 
 
 A poet may forget, as 'tis convenient/) 
 
 Excuse these observations intervenient. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 JBut it is now high time we should proceed 
 
 To where we have for some time past been tending — 
 My client's cause — by whom I am not fee'd, 
 
 Though my assistance I have thus been lending : 
 'Tis from the " purest motives" that I plead. 
 Now for the second Canto, comprehending 
 Remarks upon the first five of Don Juan's, 
 And also on the three late publish'd new ones. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 •" In every work regard the writer's end :" — 
 So Pope says, and I think the precept just— 
 
 " Since none e'er compass more than they intend ;" 
 Which being the case you'll keep in mind, I trust, 
 
 'What I have said to make you comprehend 
 
 His lordship's drift, nor let slight faults disgust.: 
 
 "Whoever hopes a faultless work to see, 
 
 Hopes what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be." 
 
64 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 XXYII. 
 
 Slight faults in Byron then may well be spared, 
 Since his " intentions" are the very " best" — 
 
 " These form," as he observes, mankind's trump card, 
 To be produced when brought up to the test. 
 
 The statesman, hero, harlot, lawyer, ward 
 Off each attack, when people are in quest 
 
 Of their 'designs, by saying, they meant well ; 
 
 'Tis pity that such meanings should pave hell !" e 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Permit me, therefore, to express a hope 
 That everybody will, in time to come, 
 
 Judge of our author's merits by his scope, 
 Design, and tendency, abstracted from 
 
 Each slip, gloss, blunder, simile, and trope. 
 
 And here I may observe, that I've known some 
 
 Who, when they view Don Juan in his glory, 
 
 Conceive the bard the hero of the story ! . 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 With this opinion I am quite at variance ; 
 
 And yet, I must confess, I cannot tell 
 How, without some assistance from experience, 
 
 A bard could in description shine so well. 
 O with what ease his melting muse can bear you hence 
 
 To scenes whereon his fancy loves to dwell ! 
 Yet still, I think, we cannot well regard 
 This poem as the adventures of the bard. 
 
DON JUAN. 65 
 
 XXX. 
 
 We can't suppose it ; since he is no Spaniard, 
 But a true Englishman, as is quite plain : 
 
 He never fought beneath the Imperial Standard, 
 In Suvaroff 's army, amid heaps of slain : 
 
 He could not have been one of the fierce vanguard 1 
 Who entered Ismail through that fiery rain : — 
 
 And this denial may be strongly back'd, 
 
 By proof — drawn from Chronology, in fact.* 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 'Tis true, his mother was a learned lady, 
 And, like fair Inez, punctual and devout ; 
 
 'Tis also true, that 'twixt her and his daddy, 
 A quarrel rose — whate'er it was about : — 
 
 A legal process was commenced ; and had he 
 
 Lived longer, he would have been dish'd, no doubt ; 
 
 " But scarce a fee was paid on either side, 
 
 When most unluckily (alas !) he died. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 ** He died : and most unluckily, because, 
 
 According to all hints I could collect 
 From counsel learned in those kind of laws, 
 
 Although their talk's obscure and circumspect, 
 His death contrived to spoil a charming cause ; 
 
 A thousand pities also with respect 
 To public feeling, which on this occasion 
 Was manifested in a great sensation." 
 
 E 
 
66 APOLOGY FOB 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 It is " an actual fact " that Byron was 
 Left very early without sire or brother ; 
 
 So much doth his resemble Juan's case, 
 " An only son left with an only mother." 
 
 " A strange coincidence !" — to use a phrase 
 As good, for aught I know, as any other : 
 
 And this coincidence, no doubt you'll find 
 
 To have been on his part wholly undesigned. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 However bad this wicked world may be, 
 
 It cannot often furnish an example 
 Of so much heartless mean brutality, 
 
 As his who on the dead delights to trample ! 
 However great our former enmity, 
 
 We war not with the dust — and reasons ample, 
 When such a charge is made, should fully prove it, 
 Before we judge a person guilty of it," 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 If this be proper as a general maxim, 
 'Tis doubly so when sentiments are rife, 
 
 Which throw such scandal on our Bard, and tax him 
 With a burlesque on her who gave him life. 
 
 And therefore every one that so attacks him 
 I challenge here to controversial strife : 
 
 For "scandal's my aversion — I protest 
 
 Against all evil speaking, even in jest." 
 
TK>S JUAN. j6T 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 And can you really think, that he could be so 
 
 Depraved as upon any ground to call 
 (The idea is absurd — it seems to me so) 
 " His lady mother, mathematical, 
 
 A never mind ?"— Why, if he had been Esau, 
 
 Or Cain, or Ham, his retrospective gall 
 Could scarce have earn'd him greater obloquy, 
 Than so to satirize her memory. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 To further argument I might resort, 
 
 And clear the subject from remaining specks i 
 
 If we allow, for instance, that (in short) 
 
 Our Bard had been disgusted with the sex — 
 
 Allowing that he meant to plague them for't, 
 And for one's fault, we'll say, all others vex, 
 
 Yet that for this end he'd expose his mother, 
 
 Like Nero, is a thought I fain would smother.. 
 
 XXXV III. 
 
 I sha'n't traee Juan here in his adventures, 
 
 To prove the point for whieh I have contended :] 
 
 'Gainst the belief my Muse her protest enters, 
 That any real person was intended 
 
 In that description : bards as well as painters 
 May pick and choose ; and when they've duly blended 
 
 The finest traits and colours of the real, 
 
 We're then presented with the " beau ideal." 
 
t»* APOLOGY FOR 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 Yet still we may and must allow, that though 
 
 Juan may be a character fictitious, 
 The tale, in substance, for all that, is true : 
 
 Of this we cannot fairly be suspicious : 
 The author must himself too have gone through 
 
 The like exploits — in fact, he seems ambitious 
 To share his hero's fame, and spread the opinion, 
 That in like manner, he himself hath been one. 
 
 XL. 
 
 " Pleasure, you're indeed a pleasant thing, 
 
 Although one must be damn'd for you, no doubt; 
 
 I make a resolution, every Spring, 
 Of reformation ere the year run out : 
 
 But, somehow, this my vestal vow takes wing."* 
 Thus to convince you, I'm obliged to quote 
 
 His lordship's own remark in this connexion, 
 
 Which else might have escaped your recollection. 
 
 XLT. 
 
 In short, he leads you in a friendly way 
 
 Through Pleasure's labyrinth, without betraying 
 
 That awkwardness which might make people say, 
 That there he never had before been straying ; 
 
 And in her cause he writes so well, we may 
 Conclude him versed in that he is displaying. 
 
 Homer fought not at Troy, perhaps, yet still he had 
 
 Seen camps, or he could ne'er have penn'd the Iliad, 
 
DON JUAN. 69 
 
 XLII. 
 
 Our Bard condemns " the child of murder's rattles," 1 
 To Venus partial rather than to Mars : 
 
 History supplies him with such goods and chattel* 
 As lifts the hero's name up to the stars, k 
 
 And with her aid he writes of bloody battles ; 
 His own experience, drawn from safer wars 
 
 And easier conquests, gives '* a slight substratum" 
 
 Of truth, and " truth's the grand desideratum." 
 
 xLiir. 
 So much that's luscious, it might almost pall, 
 
 He gives you, but I'm not inclined to quote it : 
 Bowers, couches, toilets, and the — what d'ye call 
 
 It — harem, or serai r 1 — with all about it, 
 He paints, and tells you he has " seen it all :" 
 
 And, certainly, 'twould be absurd to doubt it ; 
 Since so minutely he describes each object, 
 As shows him quite familiar with his subject. 
 
 xLiy. 
 
 But here I find we're wandering : did not we 
 Propose just now, to show the good intention! 
 
 That actuate our Bard ? — and — let me see — 
 I think I also quoted what Pope mentions 
 
 About a " writer's end." It seems to me — 
 
 And so I think 'twill strike most apprehensions— 
 * Design would have been better ; end seems ominous 
 
 To talk of Byron" s end is unbecoming us. 
 
70 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 XLV. 
 
 Because, although his hair is turning grey, 
 And his sere fancy fades, as he informs us, 
 
 The noon of life is not yet pass'd away, 
 
 And brightly blazing still, his genius warms us ; 
 
 Besides, admitting what some people say, [us 
 
 That much of that descriptive power which charms 
 
 Has wrongly been employed ; our hope would be 
 
 That he may live, and this perversion see. 
 
 XL VI. 
 
 There's nothing new, 'tis said, beneath the sun, 
 And that which once has happen'd, may again ; 
 
 Thus Rochester, before his course was run, 
 With penitence bewail'd each looser strain : 
 
 Boccacio, too, whose lay for him had won 
 The laurel, in his hoary age would fain 
 
 Have torn that garland from his brow — repenting™ 
 
 The wide-spread mischief Conscience was resenting. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 Such penitence, perhaps, may be more general 
 'Mongst those who, with peculiar aggravation, 
 
 Have sinn'd in rhyme or poesy, than men are all 
 Aware of ; but the pride of reputation, 
 
 Contending with such sentiments, they then are all 
 Abortive, and instead of reformation, 
 
 The offending bard from wisdom turns aside, 
 
 Compell' d by deep, unconquerable pride. 
 
DON JUAN. 71 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 Besides, repentance sometimes comes too late, 
 When that's the case 'tis terrible indeed ! 
 
 To evade that " income tax laid on by fate," [speed : 
 You cannot change your course with too much 
 
 For, but imagine what a dreadful state 
 
 Must there's be who in sinning will proceed, 
 
 Until a hopeless death-bed they expire on ! 
 
 God grant this may not be the case with Byron ! 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 Long may he live ! and O may heaven avert ! — 
 But I again digress : then as to Juan — 
 
 I mean, the tale — we safely may assert, 
 
 It has no end, and ne'er perhaps may know one :" 
 
 But what is its design $ — aye, let's exert 
 
 Our powers of criticism to find, and shew one : 
 
 Since this is what we chiefly should regard, 
 
 In weighing the pretensions of a bard. 
 
 L. 
 
 Well then, I think I've found at last a clue, 
 Which will perhaps assist in this enquiry : 
 
 This object we shall steadily pursue, 
 
 If that our Pegasus don't prove too fiery. 
 
 Now then, proceed we, without more ado — 
 
 In the mean time, I hope my rhymes won't tire ye : 
 
 For such a thought would very sadly pose 
 
 Your bard, and mak,e him tumble down to prose. 
 
72 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 LI. 
 
 And therefore, ere I say another word 
 Upon this subject, I'll relieve its tedium 
 
 By a short story of what once occurr'd ; 
 
 Tales have their use when people duly heed 'em : 
 
 With writers they are much in vogue, I've heard, 
 And that the public with great pleasure read' em ; 
 
 I'll therefore be like all the rest ; then list ye, 
 
 While I relate a simple one like this t' ye. 
 
 LII. 
 
 Once on a time there lived — no matter where — 
 This point appears involved in some obscurity— 
 
 A youth whose early genius promised fair, 
 And gave the brightest prospects of futurity : 
 
 This by the bye, is neither here nor there, 
 My business chiefly being with his maturity ; 
 
 And yet, it seems, " he was an idle wight 
 
 Who ne'er in virtue's ways did take delight." 
 
 LIII. 
 
 As he grew up he felt a wish to wander, 
 And so he sail'd to climes beyond the sea ; 
 
 Restless, dissatisfied, through many a land where 
 Nature appears in all her charms, roved he ; 
 
 And where the sad remains of ancient grandeur 
 Prove empires subject to mortality : 
 
 AH these he view'd, and being a good deal wiser 
 
 Than other people, he turned moraliser. 
 
DON JUAN. 73 
 
 LIT. 
 
 Like many others in our age and nation, 
 Who have the general benefit in view, 
 
 He travelFd with an eye to publication ; 
 And his reflections, though not wholly new, 
 
 Far from the track of common observation, 
 Were such as would be ventured on by few : 
 
 Much argument there was not in his reasoning, 
 
 But of absurdity the proper seasoning. 
 
 " He thought about himself, and the whole earth — 
 Of man, the wonderful," of mind and soul, 
 
 " And how the deuce they ever had their birth ; " 
 And if the grave will prove our final goal : 
 
 Of politics, religion, grief and mirth ; 
 
 The change time's billows make as on they roll : 
 
 On these and other topics, as occasion 
 
 Directed, he employ'd his contemplation. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 Permit me to point out, as a fine sample 
 Of his philosophy, the thoughts he had 
 
 While meditating in Minerva's temple, 
 
 Amidst those ruins, not with ivy clad. [all 
 
 'Twas chill and cold, Heaven knows, enough to damp 
 Our visions bright, and make each bosom sad. 
 
 What ! for our human race hath God designed 
 
 No other heaven than what on earth we find ? 
 
74 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 J, VI I. 
 
 "Bound to the earth, man lifts his eye to heaven : 
 Is 't not enough, unhappy thing ! to know 
 
 Thou art? Is this a boon so kindly giveu, 
 That being thou wouldst be again, and go 
 
 No matter where, if in the skies thy haven ? 
 Still wilt thou dream on future joy and woe ? 
 
 Vainly thy incense soars, thy victim bleeds ; 
 
 Poor child of doubt, whose hope is built on reeds." 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 In thoughts like these true wisdom might discern 
 Longings sublime, and aspirations high ! 
 
 Is it not strange that people should concern 
 Their heads about a world beyond the sky ? 
 
 By " boldly pondering," he at times could spurn 
 All thought of a hereafter when we die. 
 
 But if you think Philosophy all this did : 
 
 I can't help thinking Vanity assisted. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 For when returned he gave the world the journal 
 Of his reflections, and it was in rhyme ; 
 
 Wherein those words a Childe mote quickly learn all, 
 Which by our sires were used i'the olden time : 
 
 Yet in his lays the reader might discern all 
 The rare ingredients of the true sublime ; 
 
 While ever and anon he would assume an 
 
 Air and behaviour almost superhuman. 
 
DON JUAN. 75 
 
 LX. 
 
 All that of wealth imagination has, 
 
 He own'd ; the golden chalice held by him, 
 
 Fill'd from the fount of joy although it was, 
 Received some bitters too within its brim : 
 
 Then he'd philosophise again, " but as 
 
 He gazed on truth his aching eyes grew dim ;" 
 
 So that in those who sought illumination 
 
 His book produc'd a deeper obscuration. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 It is not my intention to record here 
 All his remarks ; it is enough to say, 
 
 They mostly were of a superior order, 
 
 Bespeaking great conceptions : what if they 
 
 On the romantic sometimes seem'd to border ? 
 That sort of rhapsody which they display, 
 
 Though it might seem nonsensical in prose, 
 
 Sounds well in verse, as everybody knows. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 Then, as the sun oft from behind a cloud [same : 
 Breaks forth in splendour, 'twas with him the 
 
 And in his praise the public voice was loud ; 
 His Pilgrimage had won for him a name : 
 
 Like Saul he stood, and overlook' d the crowd ; 
 And though his errors we may justly blame, 
 
 I much regret, when hearing his bold lay, 
 
 That such a genius should be thrown away. 
 
.76 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 LXTII. 
 
 His language seem'd even such as might have suited 
 A lost archangel ; you would have supposed 
 
 Him scarcely less, if he had not refuted 
 That sentiment by traits that stand opposed 
 
 To Godlike natures — by desires embruted, 
 
 And aims inglorious, here and there disclosed : 
 
 Satan would hence be wrong' d by such comparison, 
 
 Unless we took him in his reptile garrison. 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 I mean, the shape in which he tempted Eve, 
 And paved the way to universal evil ;° 
 
 Though some, I know, pretend not to believe 
 That the fiend lurk'd there, they're so very civil. 
 
 For my own part, I certainly should grieve 
 In any way to scandalise the devil : 
 
 But yet I think he'd stoop, to serve his turn, 
 
 Since pride oft stoops, we see. Well, to return : 
 
 LXV. 
 
 This man, if that indeed he were a man — [tion ;" 
 " Not that his manhood could be called in ques- 
 
 A point I shall not here presume to scan ; 
 The semblance of a man he had at least on ; 
 
 But facts are facts ; and by the course he ran, 
 His claim unto that title will be best shown — 
 
 I say, that being return* d he stood before 
 
 One, whom he vow'd to love for evermore. 
 
DON JUAN. 77 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 The lady loved him, and became his spouse ; 
 
 To him she gave her heart, her hand, her all : 
 Ah ! credulous she ! even while with her he bows 
 
 Before yon altar, and on Heaven doth call, 
 He's absent, though he, " spoke the fitting vows,'* 
 
 Nor heard the words which from his own lips fall ; 
 And soon shalt thou, fair injured lady, prove 
 The deep distress of ill-requited love ! 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 But let me quit a theme that grows too serious, 
 And over this dark picture draw the curtain : 
 
 The causes of domestic strife are various ; 
 And its effects but seldom prove diverting. 
 
 All human happiness is but precarious, 
 
 And nothing earthly can be reckon'd certain : 
 
 Take warning then, you whom it may concern, 
 
 And from this sad example wisdom learn. 
 
 LXVIIl. 
 
 Yet " Brutus is an honourable man ;" 
 
 Thus much at least must certainly be granted : 
 
 His frailties therefore I'll no further scan, 
 On these I have sufficiently descanted : 
 
 Besides, this episode no longer can 
 
 Be here allow'd, my Muse's aid being wanted, 
 
 To c^rry n the general argument, 
 
 Before her strength of wing is wholly spent. 
 
78 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 1XIX. 
 
 She has skimm'd along the surface of her theme, 
 And dipt into it sometimes, here and there ; 
 
 With now and then (what you perhaps esteem) 
 A very strange digression ; and I fear, 
 
 That if I thus go on to talk and dream, 
 Your patience I shall certainly impair : 
 
 But then I wish in all things to abide 
 
 By that example Byron has supplied. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 And here I also shall accuse myself: 
 
 (This virtue too his bright example teaches) 
 
 Not that the love of pleasure, or of pelf, 
 Resides in me ; but my ambition reaches 
 
 To hope that side by side, on the same shelf, 
 
 This work and his may rest. My Muse beseeches 
 
 (Although, for my part, I don't care one feather) 
 
 Juan and she may live and die together. 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 For, notwithstanding what her zeal hath done 
 Already for him, much remains in store ; 
 
 In fact the subject hardly is begun, 
 
 So don't suppose that she can say no more. 
 
 Our Bard's design will by and by be shown, 
 As I have told you several timesV-befbre : 
 
 But this appears to me a knotty question, 
 
 Which may not prove so easy of digestion. 
 
DON JUAN. 79 
 
 L.XXII. 
 
 I therefore think we had better pause a little, 
 Without. attempting' further to engage 
 
 In what at present we can't fairly settle : 
 'Tis not for halting a convenient stage ; 
 
 But my poetic " thread" being somewhat brittle, 
 I break off. in the middle of a page : 
 
 And, therefore, those remarks I so much want to 
 
 Produce, must be reserved for a third canto. 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 We there shall do it with advantage ; for 
 
 (And this is, between you and me, the reason 
 
 Which makes me so abruptly here give o'er :) 
 A newspaper I just now chanced to seize on, 
 
 In which I learn, that several Cantos more 
 Of Juan are come out — perhaps I may soon 
 
 Give them a reading ; but, till that is done, 
 
 I cannot, for the muse of me, go on. 
 
 END OF THE SECOND CANTO. 
 
CANTO III. 
 
 i. 
 
 * Tis sweet," so Byron hath affirm'd, " to hear 
 At midnight on the blue and moonlit deep, 
 
 The song and oar of Adria's gondolier, 
 
 By distance mellow'd, o'er the waters sweep ; " 
 
 " Old wine in bottles, " if not sweet, is dear ; 
 
 Good " ale in barrels" pleasant, though not cheap ; 
 
 And, not being tied in the Teetotal tether, 
 
 I've no objection to a glass of either : — 
 
 il. 
 
 That is, of course, at any proper season ; 
 
 As when a friend doth call, or after dinner : 
 And this, I hope, will not be counted treason. 
 
 I always have despised the thirsty sinner, 
 Who makes himself a slave to his own weasand ; 
 
 And wish to caution every young beginner, 
 That if he goes beyond the second glass, 
 He'll, very likely, make himself an ass. 
 
 F 
 
82 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 t 
 
 III. 
 
 Tis sweet to gaze upon the sun's decline. 
 To see the stars come twinkling one by one 
 
 Through the blue sky, till countless myriads shine : 
 'Tis sweet to wander by the moon alone : [mine), 
 
 'Tis sweet to know we've friends (I'm proud of 
 To ask advice of them and take our own ! 
 
 But sweeter far than all I've mention' d yet, 
 
 Is what one feels in getting out of debt ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 And I'm a debtor — both to Greeks and Jews, 
 And Englishmen — the living and the dead. 
 
 So now for payment : — yet my wayward Muse 
 Will not be driv'n, but must be gently led ; 
 
 And after all, will her own method choose 
 In making honest payment, as I said, 
 
 Of what is due — in retributive rhymes, 
 
 To — Byron's memory and the present Times ! 
 
 v. 
 
 When tidings of his death first reach'd her ear, 
 She stood aghast and silent ! Some things are 
 
 So stunning, they admit nor word, nor tear ! 
 Yet sounds of grief were wafted from afar ! 
 
 What voice of wailing did the breezes bear ? 
 Did nations mourn some sad reverse in war ? 
 
 Nay, but thy children, Greece, bewail'd the blow, 
 
 The fatal stroke which laid thy martyr low. 
 
DON JUAN. 80 
 
 VI. 
 
 Byron, alas ! is dead, and Genius weeps ! 
 
 Yet can it be, or is it but a dream ? 
 Say that her hold on me delusion keeps ; 
 
 Believe, my heart, that 'twas but fancy's gleam ! 
 Ah ! 'tis in vain ; in darkness now he sleeps ; 
 
 " The star hath set that shone on Helle's stream :" 
 Upon our sight its lustre beams no more, 
 And Greece and Freedom its quench' d ray deplore. 
 
 VII. 
 
 The Bard who mourn' d o'er Greece in plaintive lays, 
 And Britain's ardour in her cause awoke ; 
 
 Who swiftly flew to aid her first essays, 
 
 From off her neck to fling the long-worn yoke ; 
 
 Recalling the renown of ancient days, 
 
 When Freedom's dawn above thy mountains broke ; 
 
 Who gave thee purse, and heart, and hand, and all, 
 
 Kath perish'd, Greece, and thou hast mourn'd his fall. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 But shall not Britain mourn her mighty Bard ? [him ? 
 
 What though her wayward, moody child she found 
 Though while he liv'd, she show'd but slight regard 
 
 For one who scattered satire's darts around him, — 
 Not sparing even his country, which was hard ; — 
 
 Yet he no doubt had many things to wound him : 
 And Britain, while she weaves the cypress wreath, 
 Will mourn her Bard who now r lies low in death. 
 
84 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 IX. 
 
 O yes, her labouring bosom heaves the sigh 
 For him who with her language hath entwineu 
 
 His name, a pledge that tongue shall never die : 
 Both are in human hearts for aye enshrined ; — 
 
 Together sharing immortality ! 
 
 But ah ! where now is that once powerful mind ? 
 
 Was Byron mortal ? he who could create 
 
 What mocks old Time, and braves the shock of Fate ? 
 
 x. 
 
 " The beings of the mind are not of clay, 
 Essentially immortal." — "What are we ? 
 
 Man's works outlast his own contracted day, 
 And smile secure in their eternity : 
 
 Yet man himself must early pass away ! 
 
 He dies — alas, how soon ! — and where is he ! 
 
 As sets the sun below the western wave, 
 
 So sinks the bard, or hero, to the grave ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 But can he so have perish'd? Is the mind 
 Lost in unconscious, ever-during night ? 
 
 Is there no region, no bright world assign'd, 
 
 Where souls shall burst from darkness into light ? 
 
 Can powers which seem divinity enshrined 
 In dust, endure annihilation's blight ? 
 
 To her congenial place the spirit flies ; 
 
 Nor can Destruction claim so rich a prize. 
 
 • ; 
 
DON JUAN. 85 
 
 XII. 
 
 Byron ! thy generous deeds shall stand recorded 
 On History's page ; and be thy faults forgot : 
 
 Could mourners' tears atonement have afforded, 
 An ocean had been shed those faults to blot : 
 
 To them shall our forgiveness be accorded, 
 While we compassionate thy earthly lot ; 
 
 Whose hardship and indignity I'll show, 
 
 By quoting here a case which well I know. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 " I had — ah ! have I now ? — a friend," whose wife 
 Forsook him, like the Levite's consort, who 
 
 In Gibeah was deprived of more than life : 
 With her she carried off their offspring too — 
 
 A boy : — and long and grievous was the strife 
 Which did from this abandonment ensue : 
 
 And quoting Byron he described his grief 
 
 To me, and thus I wrote for his relief. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 " Like you, ' I'm fond of true Philosophy, 
 * And often say unto myself,' — a lass 
 That quits her loving spouse, must surely be 
 
 Not less untoward than a mule or ass : 
 And yet ' a headlong, headstrong, downright she,' , 
 
 Whom as a limb of Satan we must class, 
 Should she no longer by her presence harrass, 
 May by her very absence much embarrass. 
 
86" APOLOGY FOR 
 
 XV. 
 
 " Especially if she should bear away 
 
 Your son, for whom you look, and look again ; 
 
 Like one that looks into the stormy spray 
 Of the remorseless, unrestoring main, 
 
 For some loved object that the waves convey 
 To distant shores ; — and still you look in vain : 
 
 But Fate, I hope will soon restore your child, 
 
 And you and your good wife be reconciled. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 " I know you have been vexed and disappointed ; — 
 Yet don't be out of heart !— <J know you've seen 
 
 Your cherish' d schemes and favorite plans disjointed : 
 But so great men's in former times have been : 
 
 Saul's persecution of the Lord's anointed, 
 And Absalom's revolt, prove this I ween : 
 
 Lot's wife look'd back, and Abraham's told a lie, 
 
 And Job's bade him to curse his God and die. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 " Rebecca's guile condemn'd her favourite son 
 To fifteen years of absence, at the least : 
 
 Jacob, when Joseph's bloody coat was shown, 
 Concluded him the prey of some wild beast : 
 
 Of all these cases the result is known : 
 
 Indeed the number might be much increased ; 
 
 For ' Dante's Beatrice and Milton's Eve 
 
 Were not drawn from their spouses, you conceive !'* 
 
DON JUAN. 87 
 
 XVI II. 
 
 " Some say that Dante meant to represent 
 
 By Beatrice, the lady of his love : 
 Yet though to this opinion once I leant, 
 
 'Tis one which time has tended to remove : 
 Some say, it was Theology he meant ; 
 
 But this it would be difficult to prove : 
 The Bard, in his Celestial Tutelary, 
 Intended to pourtray the Virgin Mary. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 " ' The Virgin mother of the God-horn child, 
 With her son in her blessed arms looked round,' 
 
 In Byron's verse, with aspect meek and mild, 
 As from some Gothic niche with ivy crown'd : 
 
 Of old, her sculptured form could tame the wild, 
 And make ' the earth below seem holy ground :' 
 
 Now, like a star, behold her vision shine, 
 
 And in our bosoms ' wake some thoughts divine.' 
 
 xx. 
 
 " That Dante had a spouse, I'm quite aware : 
 Her name was Gemma too — and such a jewel ! 
 
 Though of his goods and children she took care, 
 To him her temper was morose and cruel. b 
 
 Jacopo Rusticucci, suffering where 
 
 The grim fires go not out for want of fuel, 
 
 Said that his wife's proud, savage disposition, 
 
 Had chiefly proved the cause of his perdition.' 
 
88 APOLOGY TOR 
 
 XXI. 
 
 " And Milton tells us, d Cupid hath a brother 
 Called Anteros, though not with him twin-born, 
 
 Yet wond'rous like — a child of the same mother ;— 
 Without whose company he is forlorn : 
 
 And yet he's oft imposed on by some other, 
 Borrowing the raiment by his brother worn : 
 
 But as an archer aiming he's one-eyed, 
 
 And such deceivers keep on his blind side. 
 
 XXTI. 
 
 " Besides, he's unsuspicious ; and his eye, 
 
 In this dim dwelling — not his proper spheres- 
 Is clouded ; but at length he soars on high 
 
 Above the shadow of the earth, and there 
 Perceives the imposture, and detects the lie, [clear. 
 With eyesight now grown vigorous, keen, and 
 No genuine brother this, as deem'd of late ; 
 No fellowship he holds with such a mate. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 " Then straight his arrows lose their golden heads 
 And shed their purple feathers ; then untwine 
 
 His silken bands ; his fiery virtue fades ; 
 Undeified he feels no force divine ; — 
 
 Till finding Anteros, new strength pervades 
 His limbs ; again the beams of Godhead shine, 
 
 And kindled by the mutual flame he shares, 
 
 His wasted ammunition he repairs. 
 
DON JUAN. 89 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 " Ere Milton wrote his treatise on divorce, 
 Or publish' d that entitled " Tetrachordon," 
 
 His consort left him : and without remorse, 
 
 John Wesley's fled — whom see his pithy word on. e 
 
 I need not trace these house-quakes to their source. 
 The same thing happen' d too to Noel Gordon. 
 
 See these great men, so different in their lives — 
 
 Great Poets too — abandon'd by their wives. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 " Then why should you complain ? Be firm and bold ; 
 
 Yet be not rash, but prudent, sage, and calm : 
 On faith and a good conscience keep firm hold ; 
 
 For inward peace is still the heart's best balm : 
 More bright examples might these rhymes unfold, 
 
 Worthy of Grecian ode, or Hebrew Psalm : 
 But one more instance, which I here shall quote, is 
 From modern times, and worthy special notice. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 " Timour the Tartar, after a defeat, 
 Within a gloomy cave desponding lay, 
 
 Musing upon the cruelty of Fate ; 
 
 And as he mused, an Emmet did essay 
 
 To bear a grain up to the ceiling's height, 
 And nineteen times pursued her weary way, 
 
 But with her burden tumbled to the ground ; — 
 
 The twentieth with success her efforts crown'd. 
 
90 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 "And Timour started on his feet, thus taught 
 The secret of success 1 ; which in a word 
 
 Is Perseverance : and again he sought 
 
 The battle-field, and drew a conqueror's sword : 
 
 His followers too, the inspiration caught : 
 
 And thus the Tartar chief, when Fortune pour'd 
 
 An adverse deluge, owed the power to stem it, 
 
 And gain the world's wide empire, to an Emnlet. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 " And thus, Vantromp, thou on thy couch didst lie, 
 Dejected, baffled, while the feeble flesh 
 
 Complain'd ; but resolution did not die ; 
 In thee the hero started up afresh : 
 
 And though, perhaps, thy enemies may try 
 To take thee captive in some cunning mesh, 
 
 Yet I believe, unless thou die a martyr, 
 
 It will turn out that they have "caught a Tartar." 
 
 " ' The love of offspring's nature's general law, 
 
 From tigresses and cubs to ducks and ducklings ; 
 There's nothing whets the beak or arms the claw 
 Like an invasion of their babes and sucklings : 
 And all who've seen a human nursery, saw, [lings ,f 
 Howmothers love their children's squalls and chuck- 
 But people fancy, why, I cannot guess, 
 That fathers love their babes a good deal less. 
 
DON JUAN. 91 
 
 XXX. 
 
 " They're wrong : a father's love is just as much, 
 Though in the self- same way he may not show it : 
 
 But take his young ones, and he'll prove it such f 
 Let him be prince or peasant, peer or poet : 
 
 Nay, with rude finger one of them but touch, 
 And by experience you shall quickly know it : 
 
 So brightly, fiercely, burns the immortal fire 
 
 1 Of a strong human heart, and in a sire !' " 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 This letter of advice and comfort penn'd 
 By me, was sent ; — but several years ago. 
 
 What good it did to my afflicted friend, 
 He, from that hour has never let me know. 
 
 And longer still the time since I did send 
 
 Forth to the world those Cantos two, which show 
 
 My zeal for Byron — fated then to die ; 
 
 So that, I fear, they never met his eye. 
 
 XXXI I. 
 
 Since then the earth has on her axle spun — 
 
 Yes, let me see, — nine thousand times and more ; 
 
 Completing in her orbit round the sun, 
 Of revolutions five above a score. 
 
 And yet some say — despite this mighty run — 
 That space is nothing ! I have thought it o'er, 
 
 And pondering deeply on the subtle case, 
 
 Conclude, if there is motion there is space. 
 
92 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 And then there's matter too — not quite ethereal, 
 Which Bishop Berkeley like a cloud would scatter 
 
 This globe of earth, he, from his height aerial, 
 With logical artillery could batter. 
 
 His notion of it — but 'tis immaterial : 
 
 And then the universe he makes — no matter ! 
 
 Yet he, in some things, argues with precision : 
 
 What think you of his " Theory of Vision ? 
 
 >ih' 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 For instance, when he says that all good Christians 
 
 Who exercise the faculty of s,ight, 
 Are taught the notion which they have of distance 
 
 By their experience, he no doubt is right. 
 But when he tells us, that the same assistance 
 
 Appears to be as necessary quite, 
 Ere we pronounce those objects we descry 
 Inverted or erect, 'tis " all my eye ! " 
 
 xxxv. 
 But what areTiis exploits, and those of Hume, 
 
 Compared with yours who would abolish space ? 
 For our " ideas'' they at least left room ; 
 
 But what they spared you from existence chase ! 
 You deepen even of Scepticism the gloom : 
 
 Of souls and bodies they deprived our race ; 
 Yet left the realm of space, a field for thought, 
 Which for our comfort you've to Nothing brought ! 
 
DON JUAN. 93 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 'Tis twenty-five years since, and yet it seems 
 But yesterday. In childhood time seems long : 
 
 And longer still, perhaps, appear the dreams 
 Of infancy, faint echos of the song 
 
 Of Paradise, whose lingering glory beams 
 
 On our life's dawn : but when no longer young, 
 
 Our years contract, and time appears too short 
 
 For business, though it seemed so long for sport. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 The vivid sense of pain or pleasure may 
 
 Make minutes ages ; apathy appears 
 To shorten much the hours we sleep away. 
 
 Our conciousness a strict relation bears 
 To time and time's progression : thus one day 
 
 Is as a thousand years — a thousand years 
 But as a day. 1 If Time no more shall be ; 
 Thought's home already is — Eternity. 
 
 XXXVITI. 
 
 The mind can call up ages past, and slake 
 Her thirst at Eden's fountains : she can give 
 
 New breath to forms that have expired, and make 
 The vanish' d scene again all freshly live ; 
 
 And with the great of old communion take ; 
 Enjoy the future ere it can arrive, 
 
 Anticipating her immortal dower, 
 
 And crowd Eternity into an hour. 
 
94 APOLOGY FOB 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 The thought is boundless and disdains control, 
 That Conscience deals with, in her might sublime 
 
 And mark, how in the sinner's guilty soul 
 One moment can avenge a life of crime : 
 
 How years of recollection o'er it roll, 
 An age collecting in one point of time : 
 
 That thought " which in itself can comprehend" 
 
 Affliction " without name, or hope, or end." k 
 
 XL. 
 
 Here then my Metaphysics you behold ; 
 
 Not sole, " but married to immortal verse :" 
 That I am fond of them, few need be told ; 
 
 For were I not, I should have match' d them worse. 
 The following mode of studying them, I hold 
 
 The true one ; — to invert, or to reverse. 
 One's eyes and gaze on one's own thoughts within, 
 That we the knowledge of ourselves may win ; — 
 
 XLI. 
 
 And eke of others : for as face to face 
 Doth in a mirror answer, so the thought 
 
 Of one man's mind another's thought displays : — 
 In each case, truth is by reflection caught. 
 
 " Your trumpery books," as my friend Hobson says, 
 Can't help you much, however dearly bought : 
 
 Our only chance is, when we dig and grope as 
 
 For hidden treasure ; but — " hie labor, hoc opus" 
 
DON JUAN. 95 
 
 XLII. 
 
 A quarter of a century has pass'd, 
 
 Since first the Public saw those Cantos two, — 
 Almost a generation, — and at last, 
 
 Behold the third, — in which I shall review 
 The times which have been fleeting by so fast ; 
 
 Not as laudator temporis acti : — few 
 There are who of the present age don't find, 
 The times that went before come far behind. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 While earth has been revolving, science, arts, 
 And nations too, have had their revolutions. 
 
 Geology, on mica, schist, and quartz, 
 
 With fossil rocks has built sublime conclusions. 
 
 The astronomers have acted well their parts ; 
 And Uranus, by his odd evolutions, 
 
 To Adams and Le Verrier did suggest 
 
 A planet new — more distant than the rest. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 Lord Rosse's telescope I lately saw ; — 
 
 A wonder of the world ;— the depths of space 
 
 To pierce, and let us see with deepest awe 
 The nebulae to stars resolved ; and trace 
 
 Systems of systems : to explain what law 
 Upholds each system in its separate place ; 
 
 And if the whole in mighty orbits run 
 
 Around some central universal sun. 
 
96 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 XLV. 
 
 What glorious powers ! and yet what wide extremes ! 
 
 An atom, I can mount where Science guides, 
 To weigh the air, and count the solar beams ; 
 
 Or tread heaven's highway with the Queen of tides ; 
 Or to their fountains trace ten thousand streams 
 
 Of starry light ; or where the sun presides 
 In cloudless pomp, with Uriel stand, nor stay, 
 But wing towards Creation's bounds my way, 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 With other suns for sky-marks ; — that vague shore 
 Which this vast universe encircles round ; 
 
 Beyond whose limits God weign'd worlds no more. 
 Yet when Thought reaches Nature's utmost bound, 
 
 She spreads her daring wings again to soar, 
 Then plunges into that abyss profound, — 
 
 Immensity ! — not void, but fill'd by Him [dim. 
 
 Match'd with whose glory heaven's bright hosts are 
 
 XLVI I. 
 
 So much for our improvements in Astronomy : 
 And — but not now — my Muse intends to give 
 
 A lecture on Political Economy : 
 
 I wonder how our sires contrived to live 
 
 Without it : — 'tis a kind of Deuteronomy, 
 Or second law, — to make the nation thrive : 
 
 Although the farmers terribly complain ; 
 
 And with the slave-trade Afric bleeds again. 
 
DON JUAN. 97 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 Some arts and sciences lay strangely hid 
 
 For ages, yet for ever on the brink 
 Of great discovery ; — others early did 
 
 Invite mankind at Wisdom's fount to drink* 
 Millions had seen a boiling kettle's lid [think 
 
 Heaved up by steam ; — but which of these could 
 What power mysterious that light vapour hides ; 
 What wonderful enchantment there abides ?' 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 Job was an author, and his words were writ on 
 Leaves, books of skin, and cut in lead and stone : m 
 
 The glorious Greeks and Romans never hit on 
 The art of Printing, which remain' d unknown 
 
 Till Gutenberg of Mentz the method lit on 
 
 Of cutting types, from which impressions thrown, 
 
 When smeared with ink, which seem'd the work of 
 
 Had almost led to consequences tragic." [magic, 
 
 L. 
 
 But now the giant steam not only sends 
 The car along a thousand railway lines : 
 
 Its Cyclopean arm, resistless, lends 
 
 To speed our vessels, and keep dry our mines ; 
 
 To heave, and weave, and spin, it condescends, 
 The anchor hammers, and the cable twines ; 
 
 While to the Press it yields its Godlike power, 
 
 And of the " Times" prints myriads in an hour. 
 
 G 
 
98 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 LI. 
 
 Match' d with, the modern miracles of steam, 
 
 What were the works of Vulcan, with the stamp 
 
 Of Homer's genius — an immortal theme? 
 What are the wonders of Aladdin's lamp ? 
 
 Or that which won the Tartar king's esteem, 
 
 The wondrous horse of brass, with silent tramp ; 
 
 •Upsoaring like a Pegasus tow'rds heaven, 
 
 As if to it for wings the winds were given. ? p 
 
 L1I. 
 
 The car we enter, as the steeds of fire 
 
 Are harness'd to the long an|i ponderous train : 
 
 The signal given, their motion we admire, 
 Though like leviathans they puff amain : 
 
 Beside them soon Mazeppa's horse would tire: 
 The speed with which they bear us o'er the plain 
 
 So swift, yet smooth^like Earth's— we cannot test; 
 
 To our mere sense we seem at perfect rest. 
 
 TOUT. 
 
 As Earth moves eastward, sun, moon, stars, we see, 
 In seeming journey westward, shine on high : 
 
 "So in the railway carriage borne, as we 
 Over the scene around us glance our eye, 
 
 All nearer objects — house, bridge, river, tree, 
 And towers and towns — -the- other way rush by: 
 
 Even the far mountains come, and pass away.; 
 
 And nothing but the heavenly bodies stay. q 
 
DON JUAN. 99 
 
 LIY. 
 
 A whistle, shrill and loud! — the tunnel gapes 
 And the long railway train its jaws receive ! 
 
 'Tis dim — 'tis dark, dark, dark! — fantastic shapes 
 People the darkness, which the fire-steeds cleave ! 
 
 The huge arch thunders, for no sound escapes, 
 But the piled rocks that round and o'er us heave, 
 
 Confine, reverberated these, and seem to wake 
 
 Voices. that in ten thousand echos speak. 
 
 LY. 
 
 With Dante, Virgil-guided, not forlorn, 
 
 We travel through the abyss : — lo, sparks of iire 
 
 Shine through the gloom ; in which no light of morn 
 Ere dawns ; and yet hope doth not here expire : 
 
 Like Milton too, " through utter darkness borne, 
 With other notes than to the Orphean lyre," 
 
 'We sing this " chaos and eternal night :" 
 
 But not like him — again we see the light ! 
 
 LVI. 
 
 With him I oft — especially when young 
 
 Soaring, the star-paved floor of heaven have trod, 
 
 While seraphim their golden harps have strung, 
 And raised their chorus round the throne of God ; 
 
 Or with dire arms the empyrean rung : 
 
 Then ventured down the deep, where Satan strode 
 
 Over the burning marie, and heard him call 
 
 His legions, thunders tricken in their fall. 
 
100 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 LVII. 
 
 The fire-steeds rushing onward bring to view 
 The opening of the cave, the distant ray 
 
 Of dusky light, increasing, brightening too, 
 Till we emerge — and all again is day ! 
 
 A glorious prospect, beautiful and new — 
 
 Plains,, woods, and mountains, and the sunlit bay, 
 
 Old frowning castles, and the winding river, 
 
 Whose free, bright waves, roll on and on for ever. 
 
 Lvin. 
 And lo, the train draws near a mighty portal, 
 
 A granite lion couch'd on either side, 
 Of vast dimensions ! — but what hand immortal 
 
 Hath poised yon iron road athwart the tide ?*. 
 Arch'd over — and so strong as to support all 
 
 Those ponderous carriages, that rushing glide 
 From the mainland, high o'er the rolling surge, 
 And on the opposing shore at length emerge. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 We, at this further pcrtal, pass between 
 
 Two other lions of colossal size, 
 Couch'd like the guardian Genii of the scene : 
 
 And onward, onward, like a dragon flies 
 The railway train — we sitting all serene ; — 
 
 At length its speed grows less, its motion dies : 
 And now, arriving safely at the Station,, 
 Our railway journey has its termination. 
 
DON JUAN. 101 
 
 I>X. 
 
 Brought to the verge of ocean by the giant, 
 We launch our bark upon its bounding waves ; 
 
 And Steam still aids us, to the wish compliant 
 Of Her whose children never will be slaves. 
 
 With wind and tide opposing — storm- defiant — 
 The iron steam-boat ploughs the deep, and braves 
 
 The Atlantic peril — to Columbia borne ; — yea, 
 
 To India, China, or to California ! 
 
 LXI. 
 
 Yes, El Dorado is no more a fable ; s 
 
 In California it is really found : 
 There all you touch turns gold, if you're but able 
 
 With spade or mattock to turn up the ground.: 
 Like Midas, you may heap it on your table, 
 
 A golden one, till gladly you'd compound 
 For all you have, with hunger, thirst and cold : — 
 Thrice happy they who can subsist on gold. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 Yet Steam is but a loiterer, dull and slow, 
 Compared with yon Electric Telegraph ! 
 
 Behold the Poisoner — fast as Steam can go, 
 He flies from Justice, with an inward laugh, 
 
 To think he has outstripp'd her ! — Is it so ? 
 She's gone before and waits for him ! — Ere half 
 
 Jlis journey is perform'd, the fact transpires, 
 
 Even with the speed of lightning, through yon wires. 
 
102 APOLOGY' FOB 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 And as he quits the railway train he rode in, 
 On him her steadfast look see Justice bow ! 
 
 Of that which shall be has he yet no boding ? 
 He stands arraign'd-'; each fact finds audience now : 
 
 His guilt brought home, remorse his bosom goading, 
 Heaven's hand, with one bright sunbeam, on that 
 
 Writes 'This is he:' — there only seen to fall, [brow 
 
 Amidst the faces in that crowded hall.* 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 Electro-Magnetism ! — swift Messenger ! 
 
 Yet, like a spirit, none thy foum hath caught : 
 No matter what the distance ; thou canst bear 
 
 Tidings with speed which rivals that of thought ! 
 Where'er the lines which are thy paths appear, 
 
 Even in an instant is thy message brought, 
 ' c As by the stroke of the Enchanter's wand," 
 From town to province, and from land to land. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 And then, what visions of the future rise ! 
 
 To Paris, Petersburg, Vienna speaking, 
 To Capitals beneath the Eastern skies, 
 
 Jerusalem, Calcutta, Ispahan, Pekin, 
 We're heard at once, and back the answer flies [kin. 
 
 With equal speed : u — thus may the whole world be 
 And this is likewise to happen soon, 
 Than that steam-engines waft us to the moon. 
 
DON JUAN. 
 
 103 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 Yes : Bishop Wilkins did a scheme propound, 
 Of getting to the moon ; in which were shown 
 
 The vast advantages that would redound 
 
 To British commerce : on one point alone — 
 
 A fit conveyance — 'twas defective found ; 
 
 Since railways and halloons were then unknown, 
 
 For inns upon the road, it promised fair ; 
 
 'Twas only — building castles in the air/ 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 Honour to Wilkins — and his lunar scheme ! 
 
 But has the moon her crowds, with life and breath r 
 Or but one man ! — as, in the Arabian dream, 
 
 The idolatrous city, fix'd in stony death, 
 Had one survivor, — while a diamond's gleam 
 
 Blazed o'er the silent throne on all beneath 
 See now (no dream !) from eastern splendours shorn, 
 Its brilliant rival to Britannia borne. w 
 
 LXVITT. 
 
 Mountain of light ! — Refulgent Koh-i-noor ! : 
 
 Worthy to grace Victoria's diadem ! 
 Which shines already with a ray more pure : 
 
 While Science, that outweighs the priceless gem, 
 Turns charcoal into diamond ! — nothing truer ! 
 
 As for yon chalk-hills, analysing them, 
 £he shows their mass with insect mummies rife ;. 
 And wakes the soften'd rock to sudden life. 
 
104 APOLOGY FOII 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Thus have the arts and sciences progress'd, 
 Between my two first Cantos and my third : 
 
 And tho' already I've too much digress'd, 
 Yet as the public mind has oft been stirr'd 
 
 With other changes, 'twill perhaps be best, 
 Ere we proceed, of these to say a word. 
 
 "We've got Emancipation and Reform ; 
 
 And Britain's ark hath weather'd many a storm. 
 
 lxx. [that day 
 
 When " France got drunk with blood," she sow'd 
 
 The seeds of future wrong, to reap the same. 
 Lo ! Freedom^ giant statue, form'd of clay ! x 
 
 While Anarchy presided in her name ; 
 To whom were sacrificed the grave and gay : — 
 
 The old and young alike her altars claim : 
 And when the guillotine too slow was found, 
 Whole hecatombs were sabred, shot, or drown'd. 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 Then rose Napoleon, like the Sun of Fame ; 
 
 And the clay- goddess fell : the battle-plain 
 His path to empire : to the stars his name 
 
 He raised ; and France and Europe felt his chain : 
 His character " a mass of glorious blame." 
 
 And Byron, who a monarch wish'd to reign, 
 " Was reckon' d a considerable time, 
 The grand Napoleon of the realms of rkyme." y 
 
DON JUAN. 105 
 
 LXXTI. 
 
 But Beppo was his Leipsic, and Don Juan 
 His Moscow ; Cain perhaps his Waterloo. 
 
 Two Nota Benes these, whom Victory drew on 
 Too far, while Glory's meteor they pursue. 
 
 And what's the moral of their lives ? — No new one : 
 If thou wouldst mount in safety, keep in view 
 
 Thy pole-star Duty : — govern thy own mind, 
 
 Rather than lord it over half mankind. 
 
 Lxxur. 
 And as Napoleon grieved in his lone isle, 
 
 And the bright past with inward anguish mourn'd, 
 So, far from home and offspring, Byron's smile 
 
 With pain was sadden'd, as his spirit turn'd 
 Back to the vast and venerable pile 
 
 His lay so gloriously described : and yearn'd, 
 Though vainly, for his lost ancestral seat, 
 Like "angels who kept not their first estate."' 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 In France they've had a second Revolution, 
 Besides a third : — the former overthrew 
 
 The Bourbon family, 'midst much confusion 
 And strife ; a three days' siege of Paris too, 
 
 In which the cannon did great execution : 
 
 And when the smoke is clear'd away, we view 
 
 Tr*e throne of Louis Philippe, first of men, 
 
 King of the Barricades, and Citizen. 
 
106 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 For eighteen years in France he held high rule ; 
 
 In Algiers conquer' d, in Tahiti changed 
 The laws and government ; — of Rome the tool ; — 
 
 And thus his guardian Genius was estrang'd. 
 Like Hannibal, a theme for boys at school ; 
 
 In him the world has seen the wrongs avenged, 
 Of Abd-el-Kader, Dara, and Pomare-: 
 'Tis the same tale — for truth can never vary. 
 
 LXXVT. 
 
 " When Nero perish'd by the justest doom 
 That ever the destroyer yet destroy'd, 
 
 Amidst the roar of liberated Rome, 
 
 Of nations freed, and the world overjoy" d," Ra 
 
 Where was the prayer that from the catacomb [void ; 
 To heaven had risen ? That prayer had not been 
 
 The cry of martyrs, in their weakest hour, 
 
 Had prov'd triumphant o'er the Imperial power. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 So now, the throne of France assail' d, o'errnatch'dj 
 
 By Revolution, perish'd in a day : 
 Despite the enclosing walls and forts detach "d : 
 
 With ammunition and artillery they 
 Were stored ; a hundred thousand soldiers watch"d, 
 
 In arms well train' d, and in complete array : 
 But all in vain ; though o'er these heroes banded, 
 Bugeaud, the Conqueror of Algiers, commanded. 
 
DON JUAN. 107 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 The sage, experienced monarch flies-; 
 
 And the Republic is establish' d ! soon 
 The Assembly meets — but lo, the Faubergs rise 
 
 In hot rebellion ! — Revolution's boon 
 Is civil war ; and stern Cavaignaic tries 
 
 The effect of grape-shot : such the days of June ! 
 The Red Republicans lose their sheet anchor ; 
 Fierce Ledrufled, and Louis Blanc look'd blanker. 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 thou, of adverse fortune long the sport ! 
 
 Shade of a mighty name ! the helm assume ! 
 Escaped from prison to preside at court, 
 
 Why hast thou put down liberty in Rome ? 
 Where dost thou steer for — as thy future port ? 
 
 Doth an Imperial throne before thee loom ? 
 Consult thy (oath and) uncle's ashes, when 
 " Vive V Empereur /" soundeth in thine ears again ! 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 The aspect of the times has also lower'd 
 
 Elsewhere : — o'er Naples, Prussia, Germany, 
 
 And Austria too, the deluge hath been pour'd, 
 Which shook their thrones. Alas, for Hungary ! 
 
 Whose very champions have turn'd Turks ! — the 
 Has quell'd her freedom ! — City of the sea, [sword 
 
 Fah> Venice ! thy late struggle well became 
 
 (First-born of Liberty !) "thy ancient fame. 
 
108 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 " The Suabian sued, and now the Austrian reigns — 
 An Emperor tramples where an Emperor knelt ; 
 
 Kingdoms are shrunk to provinces, and chains 
 Clank over sceptred cities :" Thou hast felt 
 
 The galling yoke, which on thy neck remains. 
 May Heaven with lightning-glance thy fetters 
 
 Or grant " one hour of blind old Dandolo," bb [melt ; 
 
 To hurl destruction on the invading foe ! 
 
 LXXX1I. 
 
 Before the walls of Rome, the eternal city, 
 
 By night is heard of gathering troops the hum : 
 
 Is it the sound of " Bourbon's black banditti? " 
 Are Austria's, Naples' armies, hither come ? 
 
 No : — for the dawn reveals — the more's the pity — 
 In martial guise on old Jauiculum, 
 
 The French Republicans elate with hope, 
 
 To put down Freedom and restore the Pope ! 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 The artillery thunders and the seven hills 
 Are shaken to their bases with the roar. 
 
 The man-invented lightning blasts and kills ; 
 The bolt men hurl makes Tiber red with gore ; 
 
 Each matron, maid, and child, with terror fills ; 
 Church, pillar, statue, rends, — unharnrd before : 
 
 And while the French such liberal measure give, 
 
 See Guido's fresco riddled like a sieve.! 
 
DON jUAN. 109 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 In yon Palazzo named Rospigliosi, 
 
 It ceil'd the mansion like a heaven :— the dawn 
 Breaks o'er the earth, and flings, with fingers rosy, 
 
 Flowers in the path of bright Apollo — drawn 
 By rapid steeds — what golden radiance throws he 
 
 On ocean, mountain, castle, wood and, lawn ! 
 The hours (or houris) round his car still dance ; 
 Though beaten by the livelier balls of France. 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 But there are those who combat long and well 
 For Rome and Liberty, within those walls. 
 
 Yet vain their efforts : who their grief shall tell, 
 When France their Country conquers and enthrals ? 
 
 Before her arms the seven-hill'd city fell. 
 
 And thither France the absconded Pope recalls ; 
 
 He show'd no haste to come ; but — much the same — 
 
 Three Car dinal Virtues govern in his name ! 
 
 ixxxvi. 
 Days, weeks, and months, pass by ; at length appears, 
 
 Wending his way to Rome, good Pio Nono ! 
 He enters the famed City : — do the cheers 
 
 Of thousands hail him, as they once did ? Oh, no ? 
 And in his bosom hopes contend with fears ; 
 
 Around, the state of things is hardly " buono,' J 
 At Jhat high altar, in that temple splendid, 
 By foreign troops he's guarded and attended. 
 
110 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 " Yet, Freedom! yet thy banner torn but flying, 
 Streams like the thunder-cloud against the wind, 
 
 Thy trumpet voice, though broken now and dying," 
 (Thy hosts, like Israel's, foil'd, because they sinn'd) 
 
 Shall yet be heard, in loudest peals- replying 
 To Tyranny; and its decrees rescind. 
 
 Lo, from the waning Cresoent- -Greece is free.; 
 
 So from her thraldom Italy shall be. 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 If gentle Nature makes the whole world kin, 
 How is it that such evils have existed 
 
 Among mankind, in every age, since -sin 
 
 Sought happiness in wrong, and ever miss'd it:: 
 
 And war and persecution did begin 
 
 With Cain, who slew his brother, unresisted ? 
 
 Is theremo influence that can disenthral? 
 
 No Power benign to raise us from our fall ? 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 And must the blood and tears of mortals be 
 A deluge that still ebbs but to reflow ? 
 
 Have we no refuge but in apathy ; 
 
 Or must mankind despair ? — It is not so : 
 
 The flood abates; the dove of Promise see, 
 Bearing the welcome olive branch ; and lo ! 
 
 Through Nature's tears, upon the cloud we view 
 
 Hope's Iris ! — God his rainbow doth renew ! 
 
DON JUAN. 1 1 1 
 
 XC. 
 
 Signs of the Times-!— the Times have many signs ; 
 
 And if not all, yet most of them are cheering • 
 Truth o'er the world with brighter lustre shines ; 
 
 At home the moral atmosphere is clearing.; 
 And with God's Providence his word combines, 
 
 To free men from the chains they have been wearing, 
 The chains of error, vice, and superstition; — 
 To raise and to improve the world's condition. 
 
 xci. 
 'When Rome's triumphant arms had form'd one vast 
 
 Imperial system, and made sure her sway : 
 She closed the gates of »war, the trumpet blast 
 
 Was hush'd, and arts began to make their way : 
 The earthquake and the tempest now had passed ; 
 
 The still small voiqe was heard ; and from that day, 
 An Empire grew which time will not remove ; 
 Its laws, truth, justice,; purity, and love. 
 
 XCIT. 
 
 After the semi-barbarous Middle Ages ; 
 
 When Charles the fifth, "in Leo's golden days, " 
 Was Europe's lord; again. the classic pages 
 
 Of Greece and Rome were opened, and the blaze 
 Of science spread-: — the Bible too engages 
 
 In warfare with the Popedom ; and its rays 
 The Triple Crown of half its beams have shorn ; 
 It proved the Sun of Europe's second morn! 
 
112 APOLOGY FOE 
 
 XCIII. 
 
 And now the Queen of Victory is reigning 
 Over an Empire such as Rome ne'er saw : 
 
 Lo, Science, Commerce, Arts — new triumphs gaining ; 
 And every land receives the Living Law. 
 
 Truth's Champions who, her holy cause mantaining, 
 From Heaven's own armory their weapons draw, 
 
 'Midst heathen countries their pure triumphs win, 
 
 O'er Idol- worship, Ignorance, and Sin. 
 
 XC1Y. 
 
 " But where is he, the Pilgrim of my song," 
 The hero of Lord Byron's tale ? alas, 
 
 Though he from Catharine's court to London's throng, 
 'Midst high society, was made to pass ; 
 
 His shade, like many more, has vanish'd long, 
 " And fades away into destruction's mass."' 
 
 So, as digression with convenience chimes, 
 
 We'll touch a little further on the Times. 
 
 xev. 
 There is the Daily "Times," of world-wide fame, 
 
 Which can, like Goldsmith's schoolmaster, "confute, 
 Change sides, and still confute : " — and where's the 
 
 Of catering well the Public taste to suit ? [blame 
 'Tis thus that Journal answers to its name ; 
 
 And keeps its circulation up, to boot : 
 Yet from its present views it will not falter — 
 Like Bray's famed Yicar — till the Times do alter ! 
 
DON JUAN. 1 1 3 
 
 XCVI. 
 
 Chief of the Fourth Estate, how vast thy realm ! 
 
 Lord of the Press ! — Thou king without a crown, 
 Or with a crown of foolscap ; — at the helm 
 
 The Premier must consult thee — lest thy frown 
 Should gather, and thy vengeance overwhelm : 
 
 One Cabinet — and more — hast thou struck down : 
 And though our flag the breeze and battle braves, 
 Thou rulest Britannia who still rules the waves. 
 
 xcvu. 
 Thou art a. God — the Thunderer — Jupiter ! 
 
 And thy Olympus — wrapp'd in fog and smoke- 
 Is London; and its peak yon famous square,. [voke 
 
 Whence the fork'd lightnings flash : who dares pro- 
 Thine anger must the vollied thunders bear, — 
 
 Chain' d like Prometheus to the naked rock ; 
 While he, perchance, not even thy bolts appal, 
 But— prescient — he foretells thy godship's fall. 
 
 XCVIII. 
 
 Though thus I write, I mean not in these rhymes 
 
 Aught of offence to JEschylus, or Homer: [Times;' 
 Then we've the 'Weekly,' 'Western,' ' Wesleyan — 
 
 The last of which is plainly a misnomer : 
 The first, of commerce, casualties, and crimes, 
 
 Of Politics and plays, — outspeaking Rumour, 
 Each Sunday morn doth to the public tell ; — 
 And battles with the Socialists as well. 
 
 H 
 
114 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 XCIX. 
 
 Star of the " Western" City of the Waters ; 
 
 Offrhas the Bishop felt thy scorching ray: 
 When erst he call'd upon thy sons and daughters, 
 
 To walk in Puseyite paths which lead astray, 
 Old Isca's zeal w r as roused, and Devon caught hers : 
 
 And o'er their mighty Protestant array 
 Thy brilliant beam, that like a meteor shone, 
 Was thrown, till they the victory had won. 
 
 c. 
 
 And in that famous trial, thou — defendant 
 
 Against the Bishop — didst thy prowess show : 
 
 Yet pause and ponder :— as an Independent, 
 
 The bench of Bishops thou would'st overthrow : 
 
 Another Cromwell might be in the ascendant, 
 If thou couldst realize thy wish, we know : 
 
 But pray, how for thy readers couldst thou dish up 
 
 Their weekly feast, without a roasted Bishop ? 
 
 cr. 
 
 Dante, when journeying through the shades below,. 
 
 Saw Ugolino in those regions dreary, 
 Gnawing the head of his remorseless foe, 
 
 With mitre gone, the Archbishop Ruggieri : 
 Perhaps we may excuse his doing so : 
 
 He had been shut up by this adversary, 
 With his two sons (if you the case examine ; — 
 How different yours !) within the tower of Famine. 
 
DON JUAN. 115 
 
 CII. 
 
 And there his rage and hunger grew so fierce, 
 That with him to the shades below they went, 
 
 But you are not less sportive than my verse ; 
 Well fed ; and ne'er have been to prison sent. 
 
 If you at once could all the Bishops pierce, 
 
 Why should you strike — to your own detriment ? 
 
 Your income you would seriously reduce, 
 
 Like him who for the eggs cut up the goose. 
 
 cm. 
 
 But, Britons, if the Surplice-Rubric- War 
 Has quell'd all adoration of the sainted ! 
 
 Some things above your altars yet there are, 
 By which at times your incense may be tainted ! 
 
 "The likeness of what is inheav'n" may mar [painted: 
 Your worship ; though not carved, but merely 
 
 " What tho' 'tis but a pictured image strike" one ? 
 
 That figure, though no idol, is " too like" one. 
 
 civ. 
 " for that warning voice, which he who saw 
 
 The Apocalypse heard cry in heaven aloud !" 
 Lest he who did from their allegiance draw 
 
 The embattled seraphim — that angel proud — 
 Should lead a second host to break Heaven's law ! 
 
 Stars of the churches ! though the tempter shroud 
 Himself in darkness, yet — for all prepared — 
 Against his force or guile, be on your guard. 
 
116 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 €Y. 
 
 And thou, Proprietor of " Worsdell's Pills" 
 For curing all complaints — ah, art thou tired 
 
 Of thus removing our corporeal ills ? 
 
 Or not content — that with ambition fired, 
 
 To physic Churches, even against their wills, 
 As Arch-heresiarch, thou hast now aspired ? 
 
 But I suspect, thou hast an eye to pelf ; 
 
 And therefore say, " Physician heal thyself!" 
 
 cvi. 
 For blasphemy thy " Wesleyan" Worst or Times, 
 
 With its " Religious" boast, throws into shade 
 All others ; with its mountebanks and mimes, 
 
 Its Scribes and Pharisees, of light afraid ! 
 Its weekly page foul calumny begrimes ; 
 
 Its rage betrays the rancorous renegade : 
 Hail, king of dykes ! than whom no sluice of mire 
 With deeper sable blots the virgin quire ! cc 
 
 cvu. 
 
 To thee the trickling rills of slander flow 
 
 From all the Wesleyan world, as yonder Fleet, 
 
 O'erarched receives the tribute, black and slow, 
 That rolls in common shores beneath our feet : 
 
 Ape of the Thunderer ! many a dastard blow 
 "Through thee is dealt, and finds concealment meet : 
 
 -And that thou may'st not serve the devil by halves, 
 
 Thou lately hast set up three molten calves. 
 
DON JUAN. 117 
 
 CVIII. 
 
 One — of mix'd metal — shrewd, astute ; alas ! 
 
 Angels at his grey hairs and jests might weep ! 
 Tough, heavy, dull, the next for lead may pass ; 
 
 And " tyrant" is upon his brow stamp'd deep. 
 The third, like Gog at Guildhall, seems all brass, 
 
 And brainless too : — the Chartist rabble keep 
 Near him< — for he's their favourite idol deem'd, 
 Since oft Victoria's name he has blasphemed. 
 
 cix. 
 Servants of Chaos !— Genii of the Deep ! dd 
 
 Adepts in Pseudo-Wesleyan prose and pathos ! 
 Around " the Anarch old " your court ye keep ; 
 
 Your work is faction, and your home " the Bathos" 
 Greedy and restless as the waves that sweep, 
 
 And dash the bark against the foot of Athos, 
 You march with desolation in your train, 
 While " havock, spoil, and ruin, are your gain !" 
 
 ex. 
 
 Nave of the Fly-sheet wheel, who centralized 
 Mid creaking spokes, and grumbling shaky felloes, 
 
 For revolutionary motion prized — 
 
 Wert stationary once, and didst grow jealous 
 
 Of merit that eclipsed thine own : disguised* 
 Thou from thy secret place with patent bellows, 
 oHast blown the coals of strife beneath their ashes, 
 
 In hope to see them blaze, like lightning flashes ! 
 
118 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 cxr. 
 
 Like Lucifer, who once made war in heaven, 
 Contending for dominion these were foil'd ; 
 
 And harden'd, glorying in their pride, were driven 
 Forth from the fellowship they would have spoil'd : 
 
 Since which they in a lower sphere have striven, 
 And, burning for revenge, in mischief toil'd ; 
 
 With classic motto ; " since we cannot bend 
 
 Heaven, we'll move hell, for Pluto is our friend !" ee 
 
 cxn. 
 
 These by the "Worst of Times " have been uprear'd, 
 As types and instruments of revolution. 
 
 They in our towns and cities have appeared," 
 
 And brought with them a whirlwind of confusion. 
 
 "These be thy Gods, O Israel!" — worshipp'd,cheer'd, 
 By those who hate each legal institution : 
 
 But on my page their names shall not be given, 
 
 " Mark'd with a blot and damn'd in that of heaven !" 
 
 CXIII. 
 
 My Muse a strain of higher mood would try, [on : 
 But these are themes one's genius won't take fire 
 
 The age which we have seen careering by, 
 Blends in itself gold, silver, brass, and iron. 
 
 Where is the world of my young days ? I cry : [Byron ! 
 " Where is the world of eight years since ?" asks 
 
 O, I have watch' d life's unreturning wave 
 
 Sweep by, and bear its millions to the grave ! 
 
DON JUAN. 119 
 
 CXIV. 
 
 Time rushes by— towards eternity, 
 
 Her final goal — on wings swift as the wind : 
 
 Stretching away, beyond the things we see, 
 Leaving earth's mightiest empires far behind. 
 
 But there's a future kingdom that shall be 
 Without an end — unto the just assigned : 
 
 From the foundation of the world prepared, 
 
 By him who made all worlds — their vast reward. 
 
 cxV. 
 
 " Between two worlds, life hovers like a star 
 
 'Twixt night and morn upon the horisons verge. 
 
 How little do we know that which we are ! 
 How less what we may be ! the eternal surge 
 
 Of time and tide rolls on, and bears afar 
 Our bubbles ; as the old burst, new emerge, 
 
 Lash'd from the foam of ages ; while the graves 
 
 Of empires heave but like some passing waves. eK 
 
 cxvi. 
 So mueh for Time and Times — the past and present, 
 
 And that vast shoreless sea, the future too : 
 Thus to expatiate at large, how pleasant, 
 
 When Thought asserts her freedom, and her view, 
 Reaching beyond the visible and recent, 
 
 Is limitless : — yet there's a bourn, 'tis true, 
 Near which the boldest, bravest, holds his breath, 
 And Nature trembles in the shades of death. 
 
120 APOLOGY FOR 
 
 CXVII. 
 
 " Yet if, as holiest men have deenvd, there "be 
 A land of souls beyond that sable shore, 
 
 To shame the doctrine of the Sadducee, 
 And sophists, madly vain of dubious lore," 
 
 Like old, fond, vain Voltaire, and such as he, 
 " How sweet it were in concert to adore 
 
 With those who made our earthly labours light/' 
 
 Each ancient sage, "and all who taught the right." hh 
 
 CXVIII. 
 
 That thus it is, not holiest men alone, 
 
 But Heaven itself to mortal man declares ; 
 
 The secrets of Eternity makes known, 
 In voices from beyond the morning stars : 
 
 And things invisible to Faith are shown ; 
 The Christian by anticipation shares 
 
 With those above — what God's own words assure — 
 
 The bliss that shall immortally endure. 
 
 CXIX. 
 
 And now I've nearly finish' d my Third Canto : 
 'Twill be the last, as may be well supposed ; 
 
 Whether or not you find it consonant to 
 Your wishes, or the plan at first proposed. 
 
 I make the public thus my confidant too : 
 My subject, like the sepulchre, hath closed 
 
 On him whose Muse delighted, or astounded ; 
 
 Surprised with wit, or with abuse confoun ded. 
 
DON JUAN. 121 
 
 cxx. 
 
 O, where is he whose daring genius soar'd, 
 
 On rapid wing, through Fancy's boundless realm ; 
 
 Who thro' thought's wilderness new tracks explored, 
 And like Columbus steer'd with vent'rous helm 
 
 Through untried seas, where threat'ning billows roar'd ; 
 Whom nought but his own passions could o'er- 
 
 Where is the Bard who, like Olympian Jove, [whelm ? 
 
 Hurl'd the red bolt of vengeance from above ? 
 
 cxxi. 
 
 Gone — to the land where all things are forgot ! 
 
 Ah, what avail his genius and his wit ? 
 The call of Glory now can rouse him not ; 
 
 His race is run, and— what is writ is writ ! 
 O that his memory had no single blot ! 
 
 O had his Muse been pure, his writings fit 
 For safe and unreproved perusal, nor 
 Been such as, while we praise, we must abhor ! 
 
 Ah, youth, come near : — behold the mighty ruin, 
 The wreck of mind in this example shown : 
 
 Contemplate here the misery^ensuing, 
 When Pride o'er principle erects her throne : 
 
 Then pause — nor persevere to thy undoing, 
 
 But wisdom learn from sufferings not thine own 
 
 So ahall that beacon save thee future pain, 
 
 x>or Byron's genius quite have blazed in vain. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO I. 
 
 Note a, stanza 1. 
 If anybody should presume to assert 
 
 This story is nor moral 
 
 I tell him, if a clergyman, he lies. — 
 The public approbation I expect, 
 And beg theyll take my word about the moral. 
 
 —Don Juan, canto 1, St. 207-9. 
 
 Note b, stanza 4. 
 
 I never married ; but I think I know 
 That sons should not be educated so. 
 
 —Canto 1, st. 53. 
 
 Note c, stanza 5. 
 
 But soon Philosophy came to my aid, 
 
 And whisper'd, " Think of every sacred tie !" 
 " I will, my dear Philosophy," I said, &c. 
 
 —Canto 2, st. 210. 
 
 Note d, stanza 6. 
 
 My days of love are over ; me no more 
 
 The cherms of maid, wife, and s-'Jl less of widow, 
 Can make the fool of that they did before. 
 
 —Canto 1, st. 216. 
 
 Note e, stanza 7. 
 Tis a sad thing, I cannot choose but say, 
 And all the fault of that indecent sun, &c. 
 
 — Canto 1, st. 63. 
 
 but, no doubt, the moon 
 
 Does these things for us, &c. 
 
 —Canto 2, st. 208. 
 
 Note f, stanza 8. 
 
 Feeling, in a poet, is the source 
 Ot others' ieeling ; but they are such liars, 
 And take all colours, like the hands of dyers. 
 
 —Canto 3, st. 87. 
 
 Probably tbis was borrowed from Dean Swift, who says, 
 
 Poets are liars by profession." 
 
124 NOTES. 
 
 Note g, stanza 11. 
 
 I don't pretend that I quite understand 
 My own meaning when 1 would be very fine. 
 
 —Canto 4, st 5. 
 
 Note h, stanza 12: 
 
 Besides, in Canto twelfth, I mean to show 
 The very place where wicked people go. 
 A panoramic view of hell's in training. 
 Sent to the devil somewhat ere his time. 
 
 —Canto 1, st. 1, 200, 207. 
 
 Note i, stanza 22. 
 And first one universal shriek there rush'd, &c. — Canto 2, st 53. 
 " f n a few minutes after Mr. Rogers had gained the rock, 
 a universal shriek announced the dreadful catastrophe : in a 
 few moments all was hushed, except the warring winds and 
 beating waves. The wreck was buried^ ih> the remorseless 
 deep, and not an atom of her ws(s ever after discernible." — 
 Narrative of the Loss of the Halsewell. 
 
 Note k, stanza 28. — " Ave Maria," &c, canto 3, stanza 102. 
 Note 1, stanza 34. — Childe Harold, canto 3, st. 89. 
 Note m, st. 41. 
 4< Ancient history and modern politics instruct us, that 
 something more than physical perfection is necessary to pre- 
 serve a State in vigour and independence ; and the Greeks in 
 particular, are a melancholy instance of the near connection 
 between moral degeneracy and national decay." — Notes to 
 ths Second Canto of Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, 
 Note n, st. 42. 
 Homer says of the Syrens — 
 
 Their song is death, and makes destruction please. 
 
 Odyssey, Book xii. 
 
 Note o, st. 43. 
 " The unquestionable possession of considerable genius, by 
 several of the writers here censured, makes their mental pros- 
 titution the more to be regretted. Imbecility may be pitied 
 
NOTES. 125 
 
 or at most laughed at and forgotten ; perverted powers demand 
 
 the most decided reprehension." — Preface to English Bards 
 
 and Scotch Reviewers. 
 
 Grieved to condemn, the Muse must still be just, 
 
 Nor spare melodious advocates of lust. 
 
 Pare is the name-that o'er her altar burns ; 
 
 From grosser incense with disgust she turns : 
 
 Yet kind to youth, this expiation o'er, 
 
 She bids thee mend thy line, and sin no more. 
 
 — English "Bards, &c. 
 
 Note p, st. 44, 45. 
 Don Juan, Canto 1, st. 42, 43. Of Sappho's famous Ode, 
 '« Blest as the immortal gods is he," &c; Longinus says, Sec- 
 tion 10, " The excellence of this ode consists in the judicious 
 choice and connexion of the most striking circumstances." 
 
 Note q, st. 47. 
 • Had he been one of us, he would have made 
 -An awful spirit. — Manfred, Act 2, sc. 4. 
 
 Note r, st, 53. — Hor. Carm. lib. i. 
 
 Note s, st. 53. 
 
 Multa fero, ut placem genus irritabile vatum 
 
 Cum scribo. —Horace, lib. i. ep. 2. 
 
 Note t, st. 55. 
 Don Juan, Canto 3, st. 97, 99, 100 ; Canto 4, st. 109. 
 
 Note u, st. 58. 
 
 Thou shalt not bear false witness, like the Blues. 
 
 —Canto 1, st. 206. 
 
 Boswell, in his Life of Johnson, relates, that about the year 
 1781, it was the fashion for ladies to have evening assemblies, 
 for conversation with literary and ingenious men. These so- 
 cieties were denominated ' Blue Stocking Clubs,' One of the 
 most eminent members of these societies, when they first 
 commenced, was Mr. Stillingfieet, whose dress was remark- 
 ably grave, and who wore blue stockings. Such was the ex- 
 cellence of his conversation, and his absence felt to be such a 
 loss, that it used to be said, " We can do nothing without the 
 
126 NOTES. 
 
 ' blue stockings;' " and thus by degrees the title was esta- 
 blished. Mrs. Hannah More, in her Poem, " Bas Bleu? has 
 described a Blue Stocking Club, and mentioned those who 
 were most conspicuous in them. 
 
 Note v, st. 58.— Canto 1, st. 206. 
 Note w, st. 61, — " Sacred to the memory of Milton, Prince 
 of Poets." — Inscription on a stone tablet, over the window of 
 a house in which Milton lived, in Little France, Westminster. 
 
 Note x, st. 65. — Aug. 24, 1819. " Keep the anonymous : it 
 helps what fun there may be. But if the matter grow se- 
 rious about Don Juan, and you feel yourself in a scrape, or 
 me either, own that I am the author." — Lord Byron to Mr. 
 Murray. — Works, p 578. An example which certain anony- 
 mous writers would do well to imitate ! 
 
 Note y, st. 65. 
 
 "We meet again, if we should understand 
 
 Each other, and if not, I shall not try 
 
 Your patience further than hy this shert sample. 
 
 — Canto 1, st. 221. 
 
 Note z, st. 72, 
 Followers of Eame, nine farrow of that sow. 
 
 — Canto 1, st. 2. 
 
 And I must say, I ne'er could see the very 
 
 Great happiness of the " nil admirari." 
 
 Not to admire, is all the art I know, 
 
 To make men happy, or to keep them so : 
 
 Thus Horace wrote.— And thus 
 
 Pope quotes the precept; hut had none admired, 
 
 Would Pope have sung, or Horace been inspired ? 
 
 —Canto 5, st. 101, 102. 
 
 Note aa, st. 76. 
 
 Now, if my Pegasus should not be shod ill, 
 This poem will become a moral model. 
 
 — Canto 5, st. 2. 
 
 Note bb, st. 84.— Canto 1, st. 128. 
 
 Note cc, st. 87. 
 
 And read your bible, sir, and mind your purse. 
 
 —Canto 1, st. 220. 
 
NOTES. 127 
 
 Note dd, st. 90. 
 In this incident, the Poet appears to have had in view the 
 boatswain of Dampier's ship, who very humorously urged a 
 similar plea, and with the like success. — See Taller, No. 62. 
 
 Note ee, st. 90. — Canto 5, st. 25. 
 
 I'm a philosopher; cor found them all ! 
 
 Bills, beasts, and men, and — no, not womankind ! 
 With one good hearty curse I vent my gall, 
 
 And then my stoicism leaves nought behind, &e. 
 
 —Canto 6, st. 22. 
 
 Note ff, st. 92.— Childe Harold, Canto 1, st. 65. 
 
 Note gg, st. 93. 
 
 So for a good old gentlemrnly vice, 
 I think I must take up with avarice. 
 
 — Don Juan, Canto 1, st. 216. 
 
 Note hh, st. 95.— Canto 2, st. 207. 
 
 The followers of Zeno were called Stoics, from the Stoa, or 
 Portico, at Athens, in which they usually met. Zeno died, 
 B.C. 264 at the age of ninety-eight. He taught and prac- 
 tised a strict morality, and was plain in dress and frugal in 
 living. The Stoics held the doctrine of a future state, a final 
 conflagration, and subsequent restoration of all things, — En- 
 fieWs History of Philosophy, Book. ii. chap. xi. sect. 2. 
 
 Aristippus was a disciple of Socrates, but departing from 
 the strictness of his master's principles, he founded the Cy- 
 renaic sect, and appears to have been the Preceptor of plea- 
 sure. Possessing elegant manners, ready wit, and an inge- 
 nious temper, he taught that pleasure is the ultimate object 
 of human pursuit ; that all crimes are venial, because com- 
 mitted under the impulse of passion ; that nothing is just or 
 unjust by nature, but by custom and law; and that a wise 
 man will enjoy the present hour, and be indifferent to life or 
 death. —Enfield's Hist. Phil, Bookii. chap. v. 
 
 Efpicurus made pleasure the end of his doctrine, and pro- 
 fessed to employ wisdom as a guide to happiness. His own 
 
128 NOTES. 
 
 conduct does not appear to have been vicious or immoral,; 
 but many of h is followers made it an apology for licentious- 
 ness. He taught that the universe is infinite and eternal ; 
 that nothing exists but body and space ; that atoms are the 
 elements of which all things are composed, and into which 
 they will be resolved ; that the world began to exist by the 
 fortuitous concourse of atoms possessing innate motion ; that 
 it is preserved, and will finally be destroyed, by the same me- 
 chanical causes ; that the parts of animals were not framed 
 for the uses to which they are now applied, but were acci- 
 dentally produced, and afterwards accidentally employed ; 
 and that the soul is a subtle corporeal substance, composed 
 of the finest atoms. — Ibid. Book ii. chap. xv. 
 
 Note ii, st. 95.— Canto 2, st. 207. 
 
 See Mitford's History of Greece*, vol. x., for an account of 
 the celebrated inscription on the walls of Anchialus, "Eat, 
 drink, play : all other joys are not worth a fillip." — "Sup- 
 posing this version to be nearly exact (for Arrian says it 
 is not quite so), whether the purpose was riot to invite to 
 civil order a people disposed to turbulence, rather than to re- 
 commend immoderate luxury, may perhaps reasonably be 
 questioned." — Ibid. 
 
 Note kk, st. 96.— Canto 2, 178. 
 Note 11, st. 96. 
 
 Some expressions and quotations in the first edition of this 
 Poem, have been carped at by Ignorance and Malignity. 
 Such objectors always remind one of Milton's remark, in the 
 " Apology for his Early Life and Writings," respecting 
 the Masoreths and Rabinical Scholiasts among the Jews, with 
 their Keri and Ketib, designed to purify the law and the pro- 
 phets ! — " Fools who would teach men to read more decently 
 than God thought fit to write." — Apology for Smectymnims, sec. 
 ii., Milton's Works, 1833, p. 84. 
 
NOTES. 129 
 
 Note mm, st. 99. 
 My altars are the mountains and the ocean, 
 Earth, air, stars,— all that springs from the Great Whole, 
 That hath produced, and will receive the soul. 
 
 —Canto 3, st. 104. 
 
 These lines are borrowed from Pope's Universal Prayer :" — 
 To Him whose temple is all space, 
 "Whose altar earth, sea, skies, &c. 
 
 Note nn, st. 100. 
 • The dreamless sleep that lulls the dead. 
 To be the nothing that I was, &c. 
 
 And know, however thou hast been, 
 'Tis something better not to be. 
 
 — Euthanasia. 
 
 When coldness wraps this suffering clay, 
 Ah ! whither strays the immortal mind ? 
 
 It cannot die, it cannot stay, 
 But leases its darkened dust behind. 
 
 — Hebrew Melodies. 
 
 Thou art immortal ; — so am I : I feel — 
 
 I feel my immortality o'ersweep 
 All pains, all tears, all time, all fears, and peal, 
 
 Like the eternal thunders of the deep, 
 Into my ears this truth — " Thou liv'st for ever." 
 
 — Heaven and Earth: a Mystery 
 
 " How, raising our eyes to heaven, or directing them to the 
 earth, can we doubt of the existence of God ? Or how, turn- 
 ing them to what is within us, can we doubt that there is 
 something more noble and durable than the clay of which we 
 are made V'—Lord Byron to Count Gamba, Works, Ed. 1841, 
 p. 639. 
 
 Note oo, st. 101. 
 
 Because, though I am but a simple noddy. 
 
 —Canto 7, st. 21. 
 
 Note pp, st. 102. 
 The narrative of an assassination in the streets of Ravenna 
 almost in the presence of our author, is given, Canto 5, st. 
 33,-39, and concludes in the words we have quoted. 
 
 Note qq, st. 105.— Childe Harold, Canto 3, st. 70. 
 
130 NOTES. 
 
 Note rr, st. 110 Ibid., Canto 3, st. 9. 
 
 Note ss, st. 13. 
 Voltaire's physician, M. de Tronchin, and those who at- 
 tended the philosopher in his last sickness, represent him to 
 have died in great remorse. 
 
 Note tt, st. 118. 
 " JDulce et decorum est pro patria mori." — Hor. lib. 2, 
 carm. 2. This sentiment, which might inspire courage into 
 the soul of a coward, is nevertheless incomplete without the 
 addition of Christ's saying, " He that loseth his life for my 
 sake, and the truth's, shall find it." 
 
 Note uu, st. 104. 
 
 The analogy of nature points out a Future state of rewards 
 and punishments, as likely, as reas6nable, as consistent, at 
 least, with the visible procedure of the God and Governor of 
 the universe. — See this argument pursued at large in Butler's 
 "Analogy of Natural and Revealed Religion" 
 
 An acquaintance writes, " I perceive Rutter has helped 
 you ; and Rutter is a man to whom it is an honour to be 
 indebted." 
 
 Note vv, st. 126. 
 Who reads his hosom, reads immortal life ; 
 Or Nature there, imposing on her sons, 
 Has written fables — Man was made a lie. 
 
 — Young's Night Thoughts, Night 7. 
 
 Note ww, st. 130. 
 There is no darkness like the cloud of mind, 
 On Grief's vain eye — the blindest of the blind ; 
 Which may not — dares not see — but turns aside 
 To blackest shade— nor will endure a guide I 
 
 — Corsair, Canto 3. 
 
 Note xx, st. 139. 
 There is something within us which constitutes personal 
 identity. Can any one believe himself to b'i not the sameper- 
 
NOTES. 131 
 
 -son that he was a year ago ? Yet in what sense is he the same ? 
 The whole substance of the body is continually changing, and 
 may have changed entirely and repeatedly, during our life. 
 Consciousness is not personal identity, as Locke supposes, but 
 rather the evidence of it. There is then a principle distinct 
 from the body— call it soul, or mind, or whatever you please. 
 This principle is often the most vigorous when life is ebbing 
 out! The Earl of Rochester a celebrated wit and infidel of 
 Charles 11,'s Court, acknowledged in his last illness, that in a 
 former sickness which brought him near dissolution, " when 
 he found his spirits so low that he could not move nor stir, 
 and he did not think to live an hour, he found his reason and 
 judgment so clear and strong, that from thence he was fully 
 persuaded, that death was not the spending or dissolution of 
 the soul, but only the separation of it from matter." — Some 
 Passages of the Life and Death of the Earl of Rochester, hy 
 .Bishop Burnett. 
 
 Note yy, at. Ml. — "The Dream," by Lord Byron. 
 
 Note zz, st. 153. 
 
 His countenance as the morning star that guides 
 The starry flock, allured them, and with lies 
 ,Drew after him the third part of heaven's host. 
 
 — Paradise Lost, Book 5. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO II. 
 
 Note a, st. 3. 
 
 Sure my invention must be down at zero, 
 
 And I grown out of many "wooden spoons" 
 Of verse (the name with which we Cantabs please 
 To dub the last of honours in degrees.) 
 
 —Don Juan, Canto 3, st 110. 
 Ton son was the name of a famous race of booksellers. 
 
 Note b, st. 5. 
 Curl and Lintot were two booksellers notorious for literary- 
 piracy. 
 
 Note c, st. 6. 
 The Caitiff Vaticide conceived a prayer. 
 
 — Dunciad, Book ii. c. 78. 
 
 Note d, st. 24. 
 But Actium, lost for Cleopatra's eyes, 
 Outbalance all the Ceesar's victories. 
 
 —Canto 6. st. * 
 So it stood in the early editions. 
 
 This may seem strange, but yet 'tis very common ; 
 
 For instance — gentlemen whose ladies take 
 Leave to o'erstep the written rights of woman, 
 
 And break the which commandment is 't they break ? 
 
 I have forgot the number, and think no man 
 
 Should rashly quote, for fear of a mistake. 
 
 —Canto 1, st. 98; 
 
 Note e, st. 27.— Canto 8, st, 25. 
 
 Note f, st. 30. 
 And this was admirable, for so hot 
 
 The fire was that were red Vesuvius loaded, 
 Besides its lava, with all sorts of shot, 
 
 Or shells or hells, it could not more have goaded. 
 But of the first, our little friend Don Juan 
 
 Walk'd o'er the walls of Ismail, as if nursed 
 .Amid such scenes— though this was quite a new one 
 
 To him. Canto 8,st. 16, 52. 
 
NOTES. 133 
 
 Note g, st. 29. 
 Ismail, a town of Bessarabia, on the Danube, was taken by 
 the Russian army, under Suvaroff, or Suwarow, December 
 22nd, 1790. 
 
 Note h, st- 39.— Canto 1, st. 119. 
 Note i, st. 41.— Canto 8, st. 4. 
 
 Notek, st. 41. 
 " The details of the siege of Ismail are taken from a 
 French work, entitled, " Essai sur l'Histoire, ancienne et mo- 
 derne, de la Nouvelle Russia, 3 torn., Paris, 1820."— Byron's 
 Works, p. 666. 
 
 Note 1, st. 42. 
 It was a spacious chamber (Oda is 
 
 The Turkish title) and ranged round the wall 
 "Were couches, toilets, — and muck more than this 
 I might describe, as I have seen it all. 
 
 —Canto 6, st. 7. 
 
 The above note appears in the first edition of the " Apo- 
 logy." But this did not prevent the dastardly " Fly-sheet" 
 writers' putting a construction on the stanza which only their 
 own obscene minds could have suggested. 
 
 Note m, st. 45. 
 See Bishop Burnett's account of Rochester's Death-bed 
 Repentance, in the work already referred to, Note xx. " Roc- 
 cacio in his old age wrote a letter, entreating his friend to 
 discourage the reading of the Decameron, for the sake of 
 modesty, and for the sake of the author, who would not have 
 an apologist always at hand to state, in his excuse, that he 
 wrote it when young, and at the command of his superiors." 
 — Notes to the Fourth Canto of Childe Harold. 
 
 Note.n, st. 48. 
 This anticipation has been singularly realised. 
 
J 34 tfoTEs. 
 
 Note o, st. 63. 
 P. B. Shelley, admitting that "at some distant period man 
 forsook the path of nature, and sacrificed the purity and hap- 
 piness of his being," explains the story of " Adam and Eve 
 eating of the tree of evil," by "the disease and crime that 
 have followed unnatural diet." He also says that Prometheus 
 effected a great change in the condition of mankind, by ap 
 plying fire to culinary purposes, in other words, Prometheus 
 teas the first cook ! 
 
 Lucifer. The snake was the snake 
 
 No more : and yet not less than those he tempted. 
 
 Think'st thou I'd take the shape of things that die ? 
 Cain. But the thing had a demon. 
 Lucijer. He but woke one 
 
 In those he spoke to with his forky tongue; 
 
 I tell thee that the serpent was no more 
 
 Than a mere serpent. < — Cain : a Mystery. 
 
 Dr. Adam Clarke maintains that the animal that tempted 
 Eve was not a serpent, but an ape or monkey. Yet there is 
 no instance of the Hebrew word nacash being so rendered. 
 The only passage quoted by the doctor in support of his the- 
 ory, is point blank against him. "Surely the serpent (na- 
 cash) will bite without enchantment, and a babbler is no bet- 
 ter." — Eccles. x. 11. "The rendering of serpents harmless 
 by certain charms, was the general opinion of eastern coun- 
 tries."— Taylor's Hebrew Concordance. The Psalmist alludes 
 to this custom, Ps. lviii. 4, 5. But who ever heard of charm- 
 ing a monkey for such a purpose ? Moses himself, in the 
 same book of Genesis, has, " Dan shall be a serpent (nacash) 
 by the v. ay, an adder in the path; that biteth the horse 
 heels," &c. Substitute monkey or ape for serpent, and the 
 parallelism is destroyed, and all propriety taken away. The 
 Septuagint, the New Testament, and all the versions and lexi- 
 cons are in favour of the common rendering. Were all these 
 authorities mistaken? The Doctor's Theory resembles the 
 serpent — not the monkey ; — it has not a leg to stand on. 
 
NOTES TO CANTO III. 
 
 Note a, stanza 17.— Canto 3, st. 10. 
 
 Note b, stanza 20. 
 In 1291 Dante was induced by the solicitation of his friends 
 to form a matrimonial connexion with Gemma, a lady of the 
 noble family of the Donati, by whom he had a numerous off- 
 spring. But the violence of her temper proved a source of 
 the bitterest suffering to him. It is but justice to add what 
 Boccacio relates of her ; that after the banishment of her hus- 
 and, she secured some share of his property from the popu- 
 ar fury, under the name of her dowry ; that out of this she 
 contrived to support their little family with exemplary discre- 
 tion; and that she even removed from them the pressure of 
 poverty, by such industrious efforts as in her former affluence 
 she had never been able to exert. Who does not regret, that 
 with qualities so estimable, she wanted the sweetness of tem- 
 per neceisary for ri vetting the affections of her husband ? — 
 Gary's Life of Dante; 
 
 Note c, stanza 20. 
 
 Jacopo Rusticucci ; whom indeed, 
 
 My harsh wife, more than all, this evil wrought. 
 
 — Inferno, Canto xvi. 
 
 He was a rich, valiant, and generous knight of Florence, 
 but unfortunate in having a wife of haughty temper and dis- 
 agreeable manners, which led to their separation ; and occa- 
 sioned his falling into those vices for which Dante places him 
 in the third round of the seventh circle of hell. 
 
136 NOTES. 
 
 Note d, stanza 21. 
 
 Venus had complained to Themis that her son Cupid al- 
 ways continued a child ; and was told that, if he had a bro- 
 ther he would grow up in a short time. As soon as Anteros 
 was born, Cupid felt his strength increase, and his wings en- 
 large ; but if ever his brother was at a distance from him, he 
 found himself reduced to his former condition. "By the 
 leave," says Milton, "of those who would be counted the 
 only grave ones, this is no mere amatorious novel (though to 
 be wise and skilful in these matters, men heretofore of great- 
 est name in virtue, have esteemed it one of the highest arcs 
 that human contemplation circling upwards can make from 
 the globy sea whereon she stands) : but this is a deep and 
 serious verity, showing that love in marriage cannot subsist 
 unless it be mutual."— lb. 
 
 There were among the hot baths at Gadara in Syria, two 
 lesser springs named Eros and Anteros. It is related of Jam- 
 blicus that when questioned by his disciples concerning them, 
 sitting by one of the springs, he put his hand into the water, 
 and muttering some words, a fair complexioned boy, with 
 gold-coloured locks, rose from the water; and then going to 
 the other spring, and doing as he had done before, called up 
 another Cupid, with darker and more dishevelled hair: upon 
 which both the Cupids clung about Jamblicus; but he pre- 
 sently sent them back to their proper places. — Life of Jam- 
 blicus, by Eunapius. 
 
 Note e, stanza 24. 
 " Non earn reliqui : non climisi : non revocabo." — Wesley's 
 Journal. 
 
 Note f, stanza 29. —Canto 5, st. 133. 
 
 Note g, st. 30. 
 What all my little ones ! hell-kite, all ! 
 At one Jell swoop ! — Macbeth. 
 
NOTES. 137 
 
 Note h, st. 33. 
 Berkeley, Bishop of Cloyne, was a very ingenious man, and 
 a clever metaphysician ; but Locke's doctrine of Secondary 
 Qualities, and the scholastic doctrine of Ideas, put him upon 
 a wrong scent, and led him (very legitimately, upon those 
 premises) to reject a material world, See his " Principles of 
 Human Knowledge." 
 
 Note i, st. 37. 
 In childhood time appeared much longer than it does now. 
 The first " month's holiday" of the school-boy seems an eter- 
 nity of delighted existence. As he grows older his holidays 
 appear shorter; the more ypars he lives, the less he seems 
 to have lived. The old man can by no mean9 allow that he 
 is old; and svhen reminded of the scenes of his childhood, 
 " It seems as if it were but yesterday." Carry the scale of 
 measurement backward and forward. If in childhood time 
 seems so long, it is probable that in infancy it seemed longer : 
 but we have forgot all about that period of existence, hardly 
 less dim and mysterious than the unknown future : and if our 
 progress in duration is continually accompanied by a corres- 
 ponding change in our notion of it — if, as the mind expands, 
 time seems to contract, then in a more exalted state of exist- 
 ence a thousand years may seem but as one day. 
 
 Note k, st. 39. 
 
 Though in time's record nearly nought, 
 
 It was eternity to thought ! 
 
 For infinite as boundless space 
 
 The thought that Conscience must embrace, 
 
 Which in itself can comprehend 
 
 Woe without name, or hope, or end. 
 
 —The Giaour. 
 
 Note 1, St. 48. 
 
 In the reign of Charles the Second, the principle of the 
 
 Steam-engine was discovered by the Marquis of Worcester, 
 
 who published it iu his " Century of Inventions." The first 
 
138 NOTES. 
 
 actual, working steam-engine, was invented and constructed' 
 by Captain Savery, who obtained a patent for it in 1698. 
 This engine, improved by Newcornen and Cawley, in 1713, 
 *as still imperfect. The invention was brought to its present 
 state of perfection by James Watt, of Greenock, assisted by 
 Bolton, of Birmingham, about the year 1782. A steam-tug, 
 made by William Symington, appeared on the Forth and 
 Clyde Canal in 1802. Robert Fulton, who had seen its ma- 
 chinery, introduced steam navigation into the United States, 
 in 1807. Four years afterwards, it was established success- 
 fully in this country, by Mr. Henry Bell. The voyage from 
 Boston to Liverpool has been performed in less than ten' 
 days. On the 15th Sept., 1830, the Liverpool and Manches- 
 ter Railway was opened, and the first steam railway-train 
 established. < 
 
 Note m, st. 49. 
 Job, who lived at a very early period in Arabia, mentions 
 not only writing, but " writing in a book," and engraving 
 " words" in "lead and rock" indelibly. Moses probably be- 
 came acquainted with these arts in Egypt ; for he was " learned 
 in all the wisdom of the Egyptians:" and before the tables 
 of the law were written, mention is made of these, as arts fa- 
 miliarly known. Exodus xvii. 14, xxviii. 9, 11, 36. 
 
 Note n, st. 49. 
 About a.d. 1435, John Gutenburg, a citizen of Mentz, dis- 
 covered the art of Printing by moveable types ; which with 
 the assistance of John Faust and Peter Shoeffer, he was en- 
 abled to bring to perfection. When Faust brought out an 
 edition of the bible at Paris, he sold the copies at 60 crowns 
 apiece, while the scribes demanded 500 for thftir manuscript 
 copies. This excited universal astonishment, which was much 
 increased by his producing copies as fast as they were wanted, 
 and even lowering the price. The uniformity of the copies 
 
NOTES. 139 
 
 heightened the wonder. Informations were laid against him, 
 as a magician : His lodgings were searched, and a great num- 
 ber of copies found. The red ink which embellished them 
 (and Faust's is peculiarly brilliant) was said to be his blood. 
 He was obliged to reveal his art to the parliament of Paris, to 
 save himself from the flames to which he would otherwise 
 have been consigned, as one in league with the devil to mul- 
 tiply copies of- the Bible ! 
 
 Note o, st. 50. 
 The first sheet of paper printed by steam was the Times 
 newspaper of Nov. 28, 1814. In 1833 the number of copies 
 produced in two hours and a half was 10,000. In the early 
 part of 1848, the introduction of a greatly improved principle 
 in the apparatus, considerably increased its power of rapid 
 production. The Times and Supplement, May 7th, 1 850, con- 
 tained 72 columns, or 17,500 lines, made up of more than a 
 million types, of which two fifths were composed and corrected 
 after seven in the evening. The greatest number of copies 
 printed, of one day's Times, was 54,000. 
 
 Note p, st. 51. 
 
 Chaucer : " The Squieres Tale," probably derived from an 
 Arabian source. 
 
 Note q, st. 53. 
 
 In moving over a tract of country, we see the objects on 
 either hand, appearing to move in a contrary direction ; more 
 or less rapidly, according to their distance from us. But any 
 portion of the earth's surface over which we may travel, is so 
 trifling when compared with the distance of the heavenly bo- 
 dies, that their appearance is not affected by such motion. 
 
 Note r, st, 58.— The Britannia Tubes. 
 * Notes, st. 61. 
 
 Oreilano, an officer of Pizarro, after his voyage down the 
 
140 NOTES. 
 
 Maragnon, pretended to have discovered nations so rich, that 
 the very roofs of their temples were covered with plate9 of 
 gold. Extravagant as the tale was, it gave rise to an opinion 
 that a region abounding in gold, distinguished by the name 
 of El Dorado (The Gilded), was to be found in this part of 
 the New World.— See Robertson's History of America. 
 
 Note t, st. 63, 
 
 Tawell's detection, by means of the Electric Telegraph, is 
 
 well known. It was while the Judge addressed the Prisoner, 
 
 before passing sentence, that the incident referred to occurred. 
 
 It seemed like " A sunbeam pointing out each secret thought." 
 
 Note u, st. 65. 
 In these times, fact soon overtakes anticipation. Since 
 writing the above, I have seen it stated, that " the Emperor 
 of Russia has determined on placing Petersburg in commu- 
 nication with Vienna, by means of the Electric Telegraph, 
 which will pass through Warsaw and Posen. When the line of 
 wire which is now being sunk between Dover and Calais is 
 completed, a person in London may hold almost instantane- 
 ous communication with another in Russia." — Watchman, 
 May 29th, 1850. 
 
 Note v, st. 66. 
 
 " Full soon 
 
 Steam-engines will conduct us to the moon." 
 
 Don Juan, Canto 10, st. 2. 
 
 Bishop Wilkins was born in 1614, and died in 1672. He 
 published a book entitled "The Discovery of a New World : 
 with a discourse tending to prove that it is possible there may 
 be another habitable world in the moon, with a discourse con- 
 cerning the possibility of a passage thither." In this treatise 
 he insists on the important results of a commercial inter- 
 course with the lunar inhabitants. " If it be enquired," he 
 sa}s, '.' what means there may be conjectured" for our ascending 
 
NOTES. 141 
 
 beyond the sphere of the earth's magnetical vigour, I answer, 
 1st. It is not, perhaps impossible, that a man may be able to 
 fly, by the application of wings to his own body, as angels are 
 pictured, and as Mercury and Daedalus are fained. 2nd. If 
 there be si.ch a great ruck in Madagascar, as Marcus Polus, 
 the Venetian, mentions, the feathers in whose wings are twelve 
 feet long, which can soope up a horse and his rider, or an ele- 
 phant, .as our kites do a mouse, why then, it is but teaching 
 one of them to curry a man, and he may ride up thither as 
 Ganymed does upon an eagle. 3rd. Or, if neither of these 
 ways will serve, yet I do seriously, and upon good grounds, 
 affirm it possible to make a flying chariot, in which a man 
 may sit, and give such a motion to it as shall convey him 
 through the air." Although the above was a juvenile pro- 
 duction, the Bishop in his old age adhered to the speculations 
 of his youth, notwithstanding the ridicule to which they ex- 
 posed him, and which sometimes he could repay. Someone 
 having objected the want of baiting houses, or taverns, by the 
 way ; the Bishop replied, that his observer ought to have been 
 the last to raise that obstacle, as few were more famous than 
 he for building Castles in the Air ! 
 
 Note w, st. 67, 68. 
 See the stopy of Zobeide, in the Arabian Nights. 
 The " Koh-i-noor" Diamond arrived at Plymouth in Her 
 Majesty's Steam-sloop, Medea, on Saturday, June 29, 1850. 
 This priceless gem was discovered in the Golconda mines, in 
 1550. From the hands of Kootub-shab, King of Golconda, 
 it passed into the hands of Shah Jehaun, the Mogul Emperor, 
 and father of Aurung-Zebe, as the reward of his assistance to 
 the revolted Prime Minister of Jehaun. Near the middle of 
 the 18th century, Nadir Shah, the Persian conqueror of the 
 M<rtrul Empire carried it, as the most highly prized of all his 
 spoils, in triumph to Khorassan. After his assassination, a 
 
142 rNOTES. 
 
 body of his Affghan Guards carried it with them to their na- 
 tive hills, Shujah Shah, who fled from the British forces to 
 seek the protection of Runjeet Singh, in the Punjaub, was 
 compelled to give up to that potentate, the " Mountain of 
 Light," which helhad carried with him. It remained at La- 
 hore with the other valuables of the Sikh treasury till the 
 commencement of our second campaign in the Panjaub, when 
 toward the close of 1848, it came into the hands of the Bri- 
 tish. Its conventional -value amounts to two millions sterling. 
 The experiments in Electro-chemistry, by Andrew Crosse, 
 Esq., of Taunton, appear to throw light on some of the deep- 
 est mysteries of nature; for instance, the crystallization of 
 carbon by Electricity, resulting in the production of Diamond. 
 
 Notex, st.<70. 
 " A colossal statue of Liberty, composed of clay, like the li- 
 berty of the time, then stood in the middle of the Place de la 
 Concorde, on the spot now occupied by the obelisk : the scaf- 
 fold was erected beside this statiu. On arriving there, Ma- 
 dame Roland descended from the cart, stepped lightly up to 
 the scaffold, and bowing before the statue of Liberty, as though 
 to do homage to.a power for whom she was about to die, ex- 
 claimed, " O Liberty ! Liberty ! how many crimes are com- 
 mitted in thy name!" -She then resigned herself into the hands 
 of the executioner, and in a few seconds her head fell into 
 the basket placed to receive it. — Lamartine's History of the 'Gi- 
 rondists, Book 51, sect. 8. 
 
 Note y, st. 71,72. 
 
 " Even I — albeit, I'm sure I did not know it, 
 
 Was reckon' d a considerable time, 
 
 The Grand Napoleon of the realms of rhyme. 
 
 £: But Juan was my Moscow -and Falieio 
 My Leipsic, and my Mont St. Jean seems Cain : 
 
 Eut I will fall, at least, as fell my hero, 
 Nor reign at all, or as a monarch reign." 
 
 Don Juan, Canto 1 !;], st. 55, 56. 
 
-votes. 143 
 
 Note z, st. 73. 
 'Besides the description of Newstead, under the appellation 
 of Norman Abbey, 
 
 "A glorious remnant of the gothic pile, 
 (While yet the church was Home's) ;" 
 
 We have the following in the " Epistle to Augusta" his sister : 
 
 " I did remind thee of our own dear lake 
 
 By the Old Hall, which may be mine no more : 
 Leman's is fair ; but think not I forsake 
 
 The sweet remembrance of a dearer shore ; 
 Sad havoc Time must with my memory make, 
 
 Ere that or thou cau fade these eyes before ; 
 Though, like all things that I have loved, they are 
 
 Resign' d for ever, or divided far." 
 
 Note aa, st. 76. — Don Juan Canto 3, st. 109. 
 
 Note bb, st. 81.— Childe Harold, Canto 4, st. 12. 
 Enrico Dandolo, in the year 1192, at the age of 85, wa3 
 elected Doge of Venice. At the age of 97, and when entirely 
 blind, he led the attack of the crusaders on Constantinople 
 in person, and took the city. 
 
 Note cc, st. 106. 
 
 " The king of dykes, than whom no sluice of mud, 
 With deeper sable blots the silver flood." 
 
 Dunciad. 
 <k As a Religious Journal, it will discuss the Religious 
 question of the day in the spirit of fairness, and catholicity," 
 &c. — Prospectus of " Wesleyan limes." Yet this is the journal 
 that has parodied the Ten Commandments, and the most sa- 
 cred words of the Gospel. The motto from Wesley, " I desire 
 to do all things openly and above board," is weekly inscribed 
 on the front of the " Wesleyan Times," as the motto of ano- 
 nymous calumniators! Thus the Pharisees made broad their 
 .Phylacteries — inscribed with texts of the law — for show and 
 not for use. 
 
 > Note dd, st. 109. 
 
 L. iEmilius, when engaged in a sea-fight on the iEgeaD, with 
 
144 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 the fleet of King Antiochus, vowed to build a temple to the 
 Lares permarini, the powers or Genii of the deep. — Livyx. 1. 52. 
 
 Note ee, st. 87. 
 
 '* Flectere si neqiieo superos, Acheronta movebo." 
 
 — iEneid, lib. vii. c. 312. 
 
 Noteff, st. 112. 
 " Behold they are all vanity ; their works are nothing; their 
 molten images are wind and confusion."— Isaiah xi. 29. 
 
 " Hi cornicines, et municipalis arena:" etc. 
 
 " These men are trumpeters, companions grown, 
 In each provincial town and city known ; 
 Where, with pufFd cheeks each on the platform blows : 
 Now rich, they sport their wealth in public shows, 
 In which to please the crowd's licentious will, 
 With thumbs reversed they popularly kill: 
 From thence return' d, their sordid avarice rakes 
 In the foul oi dure of their hireling jakes. 
 
 — Juvenal, Sat. iii. c. 34, &c. 
 
 N"ote gg, st. 115. 
 The stanza here quoted was written by Lord Byron, little 
 more than twelve months before the commencement of his 
 fatal illness. Within these few days it has received another 
 affecting illustration in the death of his " school and form 
 fellow," Peel. 
 
 Note hh, st. 117.— Childe Harold, Canto 2, st. 8. 
 
 Dudley : Printed by Thomas Stanley, Wolverhampton-street.