СХСІХ. Alas! the love of women! it is known And if 'tis lost, life hath no more to bring And their revenge is as the tiger's spring, Deadly, and quick, and crushing; yet, as real Torture is theirs, what they inflict they feel. CC. They are right; for man, to man so oft unjust, Taught to conceal, their bursting hearts despond Over their idol, till some wealthier lust Buys them in marriage-and what rests beyond? A thankless husband, next a faithless lover, Then dressing, nursing, praying, and all's over. CCI. Some take a lover, some take drams or prayers, CCII. Haidee was Nature's bride, and knew not this; Haidee was Passion's child, born where the sun Showers triple light, and scorches even the kiss his gazelle-eyed daughters; she was one Made but to love, to feel that she was his Who was her chosen: what was said or done Elsewhere was nothing-She had nought to fear, Hope, care, nor love beyond, her heart beat here. ССІІІ. And oh! that quickening of the heart that beat! Is in its cause as its effect so sweet, That Wisdom, ever on the watch to rob Fine truths; even Conscience, too, has a tough job CCIV. And now 'twas done—on the lone shore were plighted Their hearts; the stars, their nuptial torches, shed Beauty upon the beautiful they lighted: Ocean their witness, and the cave their bed, By their own feelings hallow'd and united, Their priest was Solitude, and they were wed: And they were happy, for to their young eyes Each was an angel, and earth paradise. CCV. Oh Love! of whom great Cæsar was the suitor, Horace, Catullus, scholars, Ovid tutor, Sappho the sage blue-stocking, in whose grave All those may leap who rather would be neuter— (Leucadia's rock still overlooks the wave) Oh Love! thou art the very god of evil, Thou mak'st the chaste connubial state precarious, And jestest with the brows of mightiest men: Cæsar and Pompey, Mahomet, Belisarius, Have much employ'd the muse of history's pen; Their lives and fortunes were extremely various, Such worthies Time will never see again; Yet to these four in three things the same luck holds, They all were heroes, conquerors, and cuckolds. CCVII. Thou mak❜st philosophers; there's Epicurus By theories quite practicable too; If only from the devil they would insure 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. CCVIII. But Juan! had he quite forgotten Julia? Else how the devil is it that fresh features CCIX. I hate inconstancy-I loathe, detest, Abhor, condemn, abjure the mortal made Of such quicksilver clay, that in his breast No permanent foundation can be laid; Love, constant love, has been my constant guest, CCX. But soon Philosophy came to my aid, And whisper'd "think of every sacred tie!" “I will, my dear Philosophy!" I said, "But then her teeth, and then, Oh heaven! her eye! I'll just inquire if she be wife or maid, Or neither out of curiosity." "Stop!" cried Philosophy, with air so Grecian, CCXI. "Stop!" so I stopp'd.-But to return: that which CCXII. 'Tis the perception of the beautiful, A fine extension of the faculties, Platonic, universal, wonderful, Drawn from the stars, and filter'd through the skies, Without which life would be extremely dull; In short, it is the use of our own eyes, With one or two small senses, added, just To hint that flesh is form'd of fiery dust. CCXIII. Yet 'tis a painful feeling, and unwilling, For surely if we always could perceive In the same object graces quite as killing As when she rose upon us like an Eve, 'Twould save us many a heart-ach, many a shilling, CCXIV. The heart is like the sky, a part of heaven, But changes night and day too, like the sky; Now o'er it clouds and thunder must be driven, And darkness and destruction as on high; But when it hath been scorched, and pierced, and riven, Pours forth at last the heart's blood turn'd to tears, CCXV. The liver is the lazaret of bile, But very rarely executes its function, Rage, fear, hate, jealously, revenge, compunction, CCXVI. In the mean time, without proceeding more In this anatomy, I've finish'd now, |