CLXIV. "Tis pleasing to be school'd in a strange tongue By female lips and eyes—that is, I mean, When both the teacher and the taught are young, As was the case, at least, where I have been; They smile so when one's right, and when one's wrong They smile still more, and then there intervene Pressure of hands, perhaps even a chaste kiss:I learn'd the little that I know by this: CLXV. That is some words of Spanish, Turk, and Greek, Of eloquence in piety and prose I hate your poets, so read none of those. CLXVI. As for the ladies, I have nought to say, A wanderer from the British world of fashion,' Where I, like other" dogs, have had my day," Like other men too, may have had my passionBut that, like other things, has pass'd away; And all her fools whom I could lay the lash on, Foes, friends, men, women, now are nought to me, But dreams of what has been, no more to be. CLXVII. Return we to Don Juan. He begun To hear new words, and to repeat them: but Some feelings, universal as the sun, Were such as could not in his breast be shut He was in love,-as you would be, no doubt, CLXVIII. And every day by daybreak-rather early To see her bird reposing in his nest; And she would softly stir his locks so curly, Without disturbing her yet slumbering guest, Breathing all gently o'er his cheek and mouth, As o'er a bed of roses the sweet south. CLXIX. And every morn his colour freshlier came, Are oil and gunpowder; and some good lessons CLXX. While Venus fills the heart (without heart really For love must be sustain'd like flesh and blood,While Bacchus pours out wine, or hands a jelly; Eggs, oysters too, are amatory food; But who is their purveyor from above Heaven knows, it may be Neptune, Pan o r Jove. CLXXI. When Juan woke he found some good things ready, A bath, a breakfast, and the finest eyes CLXXII. Both were so young, and one so innocent, Of whom these two years she had nightly dream'd, CLXXIII. It was such pleasure to behold him, such To watch him slumbering and to see him wake: To live with him for ever were too much; But then the thought of parting made her quake; He was her own, her ocean-treasure, cast Like a rich wreck-her first love, and her last. CLXXIV. And thus a moon roll'd on, and fair Haidee Paid daily visits to her boy, and took Remain'd unknown within his craggy nook; But three Ragusan vessels, bound for Scio. CLXXV. Then came her freedom, for she had no mother, CLXXVI. Now she prolong'd her visits and her talk, For little had he wander'd since the day On which, like a young flower snapp'd from the stalk, And thus they walk'd out in the afternoon, CLXXVII. It was a wild and breaker-beaten coast, With cliffs above, and a broad sandy shore, Guarded by shoals and rocks as by an host, With here and there a creek, whose aspect wore A better welcome to the tempest-tost; And rarely ceased the haughty billow's roar, Save on the dead long summer days, which make The outstretch'd ocean glitter like a lake. CLXXVIII. And the small ripple spilt upon the beach Scarcely o'erpass'd the cream of your champaigne, 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 vain,— Let us have wine and woman, mirth and laughter, Sermons and soda-water the day after. CLXXIX. Man being reasonable, must get drunk; CLXXX. Ring for your valet-bid him quickly bring CLXXXI. The coast-I think it was the coast that I Was just describing-Yes, it was the coastLay at this period quiet as the sky, The sands untumbled, the blue waves untost, |