CXLVII. His highness was a man of solemn port, His lately bowstrung brother caused his rise; Of Cantemir, or Knolles, where few shine CXLVIII. He went to mosque in state, and said his prayers And show'd but little royal curiosity: I know not if he had domestic cares No process proved connubial animosity; Four wives and twice five hundred maids, unseen, Were ruled as calmly as a christian queen. CXLIX. If now and then there happen'd a slight slip, The story scarcely pass'd a single lip The sack and sea had settled all in time, From which the secret nobody could rip: The public knew no more than does this rhyme; No scandals made the daily press a curse— Morals were better, and the fish no worse. CL. He saw with his own eyes the moon was round, No sign that it was circular any where; 'T is true, a little troubled here and there, By rebel pachas, and encroaching giaours, But then they never came to the «Seven Towers;» CLI. Except in shape of envoys, who were sent To lodge there when a war broke out, according To the true law of nations, which ne'er meant Those scoundrels, who have never had a sword in Their dirty diplomatic hands, to vent Their spleen in making strife, and safely wording Their lies, yclep'd despatches, without risk or The singeing of a single inky whisker. CLII, He had fifty daughters and four dozen sons, They lived till some bashaw was sent abroad, When she, whose turn it was, was wed at once, Sometimes at six years old-though this seems odd, 'Tis true; the reason is, that the bashaw Must make a present to his sire-in-law. CLIII. His sons were kept in prison, till they grew Could yet be known unto the fates alone; Was princely, as the proofs have always shown: So that the heir apparent still was found No less deserving to be hang'd than crown'd. CLIV. His majesty saluted his fourth spouse With all the ceremonies of his rank, Who clear'd her sparkling eyes and smooth'd her brows, To save the credit of their breaking bank: To no men are such cordial greetings given As those whose wives have made them fit for heaven. CLV. His highness cast around his great black eyes, At which he seem'd no whit surprised nor grieved, CLVI. This compliment, which drew all eyes upon CLVII. The Turks do well to shut-at least, sometimes The women up-because in sad reality, Their chastity in these unhappy climes Is not a thing of that astringent quality, Which in the north prevents precocious crimes, And makes our snow less pure than our morality; The sun, which yearly melts the polar ice, Has quite the contrary effect on vice. CLVIII. Thus in the east they are extremely strict, It ne'er can be replaced in proper frame; But then their own polygamy 's to blame; Why don't they knead two virtuous souls for life Into that moral centaur, man and wife? CLIX. Thus far our chronicle; and now we pause, Though not for want of matter; but 't is time, According to the ancient epic laws, To slacken sail, and anchor with our rhyme. Let this fifth canto meet with due applause, The sixth shall have a touch of the sublime; Meanwhile, as Homer sometimes sleeps, perhaps You'll pardon to my muse a few short naps. END OF CANTO FIFTH. |