LAMBRO'S RETURN. (DON JUAN, Canto iii. Stanzas 27, 29-41.) He saw his white walls shining in the sun, The moving figures, and the sparkling sheen And still more nearly to the place advancing, Through the waved branches, o'er the greensward glancing, 'Midst other indications of festivity, Seeing a troop of his domestics dancing Like dervises, who turn as on a pivot, he Perceived it was the Pyrrhic dance so martial, To which the Levantines are very partial. And further on a group of Grecian girls, The first and tallest her white kerchief waving, Were strung together like a row of pearls, Link'd hand in hand, and dancing; each too having Down her white neck long floating auburn curls(The least of which would set ten poets raving); Their leader sang-and bounded to her song, With choral step and voice, the virgin throng. And here, assembled cross-legg'd round their trays, Above them their dessert grew on its vine, A band of children, round a snow-white ram, Or eats from out the palm, or playful lowers Their classic profiles, and glittering dresses, Their large black eyes, and soft seraphic cheeks, Sigh'd, for their sakes-that they should e'er grow older. Afar, a dwarf buffoon stood telling tales Of wonderful replies from Arab jokers, Of charms to make good gold and cure bad ails, Of magic ladies who, by one sole act, Transform'd their lords to beasts (but that's a fact). Here was no lack of innocent diversion Song, dance, wine, music, stories from the Persian, Ah! what is man? what perils still environ Is all that life allows the luckiest sinner; He-being a man who seldom used a word And long he paused to re-assure his eyes, He did not know (alas! how men will lie) And put his house in mourning several weeks,— But now their eyes and also lips were dry; The bloom, too, had return'd to Haidée's cheeks. Her tears, too, being return'd into their fount, She now kept house upon her own account. S Hence all this rice, meat, dancing, wine, and fiddling, A life which made them happy beyond measure. Compared with what Haidée did with his treasure; 'Twas wonderful how things went on improving, While she had not one hour to spare from loving. Perhaps you think in stumbling on this feast You're wrong.-He was the mildest manner'd man A STORMED CITY. (DON JUAN, Canto viii. Stanzas 123-127.) ALL that the mind would shrink from of excesses; As hell-mere mortals who their power abuse— If here and there some transient trait of pity Was shown, and some more noble heart broke through What's this in one annihilated city, Where thousand loves, and ties, and duties grow? Cockneys of London! Muscadins of Paris! Just ponder what a pious pastime war is. Think how the joys of reading a Gazette Are purchased by all agonies and crimes : Or if these do not move you, don't forget Such doom may be your own in after-times. Meantime the Taxes, Castlereagh, and Debt, Are hints as good as sermons, or as rhymes. Read your own hearts and Ireland's present story, Then feed her famine fat with Wellesley's glory. 4 |