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Feelings of youth like those which over- Juan rejoined "She was a Catholio,

thrown lie And therefore fittest, as of his persuasion;
By death, when we are left, alas! behind, Since he was sure his mother would fall sick,
To feel, in friendless palaces, a horse And the Pope thunder excommunication,
Is wanting, and our best ties in the tomb? If—” But here Adeline, who seem'd to pique

Herself extremely on the inoculation

Of others with her own opinions, stated Early in years, and yet more infantine As usual - the same reason which she late did. In figure, she had something of sublime In eyes which sadly shone, as Seraphs'

shine.

And wherefore not? A reasonable reason,
All youth--but with an aspect beyond time; If good, is none the worse for repetition;
Radiant and grave-as pitying man's decline; If bad, the best way's certainly to tease on
Mournful--but mournful of another's crime, And amplify: you lose mạch by concision,
She look'd as if she sat by Eden's door, Whereas insisting in or out of season
And grieved for those who could return Convinces all men, even a politician;

Or- what is just the same - it wearies out.
So the end's gain’d, what signifies the

ronte
She was a Catholic too, sincere, austere,
As far as her own gentle heart allow'd,
And deem'd that fallen worship far more Why Adeline had this slight prejudice –

dear

For prejudice it was-against a creature Perhaps because 'twas fallen : her sires were As pure as sanctity itself from vice,

proud

With all the added charm of formand feature, of deeds and days when they had filla For me appears a question far too nice,

the ear

Since Adeline was liberal by nature; Of nations, and had never bent or bow'd But nature 's nature, and has more caprices To novel power; and as she was the last, Than I have time, or will, to take to pieces. She held their old faith and old feelings fast.

Perhaps she did not like the quiet way She gazed upon a world she scarcely knew With which Aurora on those baubles look'd, As seeking not to know it; silent, Ione, Which charm most people in their earlier As grows a flower, thus quietly she grew,

day: And kept her heart serene within its zone. For there are few things by mankind less There was awe in the homage which she

brook'd, drew;

And womankind too, if we so may say, Her spirit seem'd as seated on a throne Than finding thus their genius stand rebuked, Apart from the surrounding world, and Like "Anthony's by Cæsar,” by the few

strong

Who look upon them as they ought to do. In its own strength-most strange in one

80 young!

It was not envy-Adeline had none;

Her place was far beyond it, and her mind. Now it so happend, in the catalogue It was not scorn-which could not light Of Adeline, Aurora was omitted, Although her birth and wealth had given whose greatest fault was leaving few to find.

It was not jealousy, I think: but shun Beyond the charmers we have already cited; Following the “Ignes Fatui” of mankind. Her beauty also seem'd to form no clog It was not --but 'tis easier far, alas! Against her being mention'd as well fitted, To say what it was not, than what it was. By many virtues, to be worth the trouble Of single gentlemen who would be double.

Little Aurora deem'd she was the theme

Of such discussion. She was there a guest, And this omission, like that of the bust A beauteous ripple of the brilliant stream Of Brutus at the pageant of Tiberius, Of rank and youth, though purer than the Made Juan wonder, as no doubt he must.

rest, This he express'd half smiling and half Which flow'd on for a moment in the beam

serious;

Time sheds a moment o’er each sparkling When Adeline replied with some disgust,

crest. And with an air, to say the least, imperious, Had she known this, she would have calmly She marvellid “what he saw in such a baby

smiledAs that prim, silent, cold Aurora Raby?" She had so much, or little, of the child.

on one

her vogue

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The dashing and proud air of Adeline Adeline and Don Juan rather blended Imposed not upon her: she saw her blaze Somo acids with the sweets--for she was Much as she would have seen a glow-worm

heady ; shine.

But, ere the matter could be marrd or Then turn'd unto the stars for loftier rays.

mended, Juan was something she could not divine, The silvery bell rung, not for “dinner Being no Sibyl in the new world's ways;

ready," Yet she was nothing dazzled by the meteor, But for that hour, callid half-hour, given Because she did not pin her faith on feature.

to dress, Though ladies' rohes seem scant enough

for less. His fame too,- for he had that kind of fame Which sometimes plays the deuce with

womankind,

Great things were now to be achieved at A heterogeneous mass of glorious blame,

table, Halfvirtues and whole vices being combined; With massy plate for armour, knives and Faults which attract because they are not

forks tame;

For weapons;

but what Muse since Homer's Follies trick'd out so brightly that they

able blind :

(His feasts are not the worst part of his These seals upon her wax made no im

works) pression,

To draw up in array a single day-bill Such was her coldness or her self-possession. Of modern dinners ? where more mystery

lurks Jaan knew nought of such a character

In soups or sauces, or a sole ragoût, High, yet resembling not his lost Haidee; Than witches, bitches, or physicians brew. Yet each was radiant in her proper sphere: The Island-girl, bred up by the lone sea. There was a goodly soupe à la bonne More warm, as lovely, and not less sincere, Was Nature's all: Aurora could not be

femme,Nor would be thus;- the difference in them Though God knows whence it came from; Was such as lies between a flower and gem. A turbot for relief of those who cram,

there was too

Relieved with dindon à la Perigeux; Having wound up with this sublime com- There also was- -the sinner that I am !

parison,

How shall I get this gourmand-stanza Methinks we may proceed upon our nar

through? rative,

Soupe à la Beauveau, whose relief was Dory, And, as my friend Scott says, “I sound my Relieved itself by pork, for greater glory.

Warison ;” Scott, the superlative of my comparativeScott, who can paint your Christian knight But I must crowd all into one grand mess

or Saracen, Or mass; for should I stretch into detail, Serf, Lord, Man, with such skill as none My Muse would run much more into excess,

would share it, if Than when some squeamish people deem There had not been 'one Shakespeare and

her frail. Voltaire,

But though a "honne vivante," I must Of one or both of whom he seems the heir..

confess Her stomach's not her peccant part: this tale,

However,doth require some slight refection, I say, in my slight way I may proceed Just to relieve her spirits from dejection. To play upon the surface of Humanity. I write the world, nor care if the world read, At least for this I cannot spare its vanily. Fowls à la Condé, slices eke of salmon, My Muse hath bred, and still perhaps may With sauces Genevoises, and haunch of breed

venison; More foes by this same scroll: when I Wines too which might again have slain began it, I

young Ammon, Thought that it might turn ont so—now 1 A man like whom I hope we shan't see many know it,

soon; But still I am, or was, a pretty poet. They also set a glazed Westphalian ham on.

Whereon Apicius would bestow his benison;

And then there was Champagne with The conference or congress (for it ended

foaming whirls, As congresses of late do) of the Lady As white a Cleopatra's melted pearls.

Bull way:

Then there was God knows what “à l'Alle- | Than could roast-beef in our rough John

mande," “A l'Espagnole,” “timballe,” and “Sal- I must not introduce even a spare rib here, picon”

“Bubble and squeak” would spoil my liWith things I can't withstand or understand,

quid lay; Though swallow'd with much zest upon But I have dined, and must forego, alas ! the whole;

The chaste description even of a “Bécasse," And “entremets” to piddle with at hand, Gently to lull down the subsiding soul; While great Lucullus' (robe triomphale) And fruits, and ice, and all that art refines muffles

From nature for the service of the goût, (There's Fame)-young partridge-fillets, Taste or the gout,-pronounce it as inclines deck'd with truffles. Your stomach! Ere you dine, the French

will do ;

But after, there are sometimes certain signs What are the fillets on the victor's brow To these? They are rags or dust. Where Hast ever had the gout? I have not had it,

Which prove plain English truer of the two. is the arch

But I inay have, and you too, Reader, Which nodded to the nation's spoils below?

dread it. Where the triumphal chariot's haughty

march? Gone to where victories must like dinners go. The simple olives, best allies of wine, Further I shall not follow the research:

Must I pass over in my bill of fare? But oh! ye modern heroes with your

cart

I must, although a favourite“plat” of mine ridges, When will your names lend lustre even to On them and bread 'twas oft my luck to dine,

In Spain, and Lucca, Athens, every where: partridges?

The grass my table-cloth, in open air,

On Sunium or Hymettus, like Diogenes, Those truffles too are no bad accessaries, Of whom half my philosophy the progeny is. Follow'd by “Petits puits d'Amour"- a dish Of which perhaps the cookery rather varies, So every one may dress it to his wish, Amidst this tumult of fish, flesh and fowl, According to the best of dictionaries,

And vegetables, all in masquerade, Which encyclopedise both flesh and fish; The guests were placed according to their But even sans "confitures," it no less true is,

roll, There's pretty picking in those “petits puits." But various as the various meats display'd:

Don Juan sat next an “à l'Espagnole

No dainsel, but a dish, as hath been said ; The mind is lost in mighty contemplation But so far like a lady, that 'twas drest Of intellect expended on two courses; Superbly, and contained a world of zest. And indigestion’s grand multiplication Requires arithmetic beyond my forces. Who would suppose, from Adam's simple By some odd chance too he was placed ration

between That cookery could have call’d forth such Aurora and the Lady Adeline

A situation difficult, I ween, As form a science and a nomenclature For man therein, with eyes and heart to dine. From out the commonest demands of nature? Also the conference which we have seen

Was not such as to encourage him to shine;

For Adeline, addressing few words to him, The glasses jingled, and the palates tingled; With two transcendent eyes seem'd to look The diners of celebrity dined well;

through him. The ladies with more moderation mingled In the feast, pecking less than I can tell ; Also the younger men too; for a springald I sometimes almost think that eyes have ears: Can't like ripe age in gourmandise excel, This much is sure, that, out of earshot, things But thinks less of good eating than the Are somehow echoed to the pretty dears, whisper

Of which I can't tell whence their know(When seated next him) of some pretty lisper.

ledge springs; Like that same mystic music of the spheres,

Which no one hears so loudly though it Alas! I must leave undescribed the gibier,

rings. The salmi, the consommé, the purée, 'Tis wonderful how oft the sex have heard All which I use to make my rhymes run Long dialogues which pass'd without a glibber

word!

resources,

Aurora sat with that indifference

And taught him when to be reserved or free: Which piques a preuxChevalier- as it ought: He had the art of drawing people out, Of all offences that's the worst offence, Without their seeing what he was about. Which seems to hint you are not worth a

thought. Now Juan, though no coxcomb in pretence, Aurora, who in her indifference Was not exactly pleased to be so caught, Confounded him in common with the crowd Like a good ship entangled among ice, Of flutterers, though she deem'd he had And after so much excellent advice.

more sense Than whispering foplings, or than witlings

loud, To his gay nothings, nothing was replied, Commenced -(from such slight things will Or something which was nothing, as ur

great commence) banity

To feel that flattery which attracts the proud Required. Aurora scarcely look'd aside, Rather by deference than compliment, Nor even smiled enough for any vanity: And wins even by a delicate dissent. The devil was in the girl! Could it be pride? Or modesty, or absence, or inanity ? Heaven knows! But Adeline's malicious eyes And then he had good looks ;-that point Sparkled with her successful prophecies;

was carried Nem.con. amongst the women, which I grieve

To say leads oft to crim. con. with the And look'd as much as if to say, “I said

married it;" –

A case which to the Juries we may leave, A kind of triumph I'll not recommend, Since with digressions we too long have Because it sometimes, as I've seen or read it,

tarried. Both in the case of lover and of friend, Now though we know of old that looks Will pique a gentleman, for his own credit,

deceive, To bring what was a jest to a serious end: And always have done, somehow these For all inen prophesy what is or was,

good looks And hate those who won't let them come Make more impression than the best of

books.

to pass.

Juan was drawn thus into some attentions, Aurora, who look'd more on books than Slight but select, and just enough to express,

faces, To females of perspicuous comprehensions, was very young, although so very sage, That he would rather make them more than Admiring more Minerva than the Graces,

less.

Especially upon a printed page. Aurora at the last (so history mentions,

But Virtue's self, with all her tightest laces, Though probably much less a fact than Has not the natural stays of strict old age;

guess)

And Socrates, that model of all duty, So far relax'd her thoughts from their sweet Own’d too a penchant, though discreet, for prison,

beauty. As once or twice to smile, if not to listen.

And girls of sixteen are thus far Socratic, From answering, she began to question: this But innocently so, as Socrates: With her was rare; and Adeline, who as yet And really, if the Sage sublime and Attic Thought her predictions went not much At seventy years had phantasies like these,

amise,

Which Plato in his dialogues dramatic Began to dread she'd thaw to a Coquette Has shown, I know not why they should So very difficult, they say, it is

displease To keep extremes from meeting, when once In Virgins-- always in a modest way,

set

Observe; for that with me's a “sine qua." In motion; but she here too much refined Aurora's spirit was not of that kind.

Also observe, that like the great Lord Coke,

(See Littleton) whene'er I have exprest But Juan had a sort of winning way, Opinions two, which at first sight may look A proud humility, if such there be, Twin opposites, the second is the best. Which show'd such deference to wbat fe- Perhaps I have a third too in a nook,

Or none at all – which seems a sorry jest; As if each charming word were a decree. But if a writer should be quite consistent. His tact too temper'd him from grave to gay, I How could he possibly show things existent?

males say,

career

I not;

If people contradict themselves, can I And stuff with

sage
that

very verdant Help contradicting them, and every body,

goose. Even my veracious self!--but that's a lie; And now, that we may furnish with some I never did so, never will-how should I?

matter all He who doubts all things, nothing can deny; Tastes, we are going to try the supernatural. Truth's fountains may be clear-her streams

are muddy, And cut through such canals of contra- And now I will give up all argument;

diction,

And positively henceforth no temptation That she must often navigate o'er fiction. Shall “fool me to the top up of my bent;"

Yes, I'll begin a thorough reformation.

Indeed I never knew what people meant Apologue, fable, poesy, and parable, By deeming that my Muse's conversation Are false, but may be render'd also true Was dangerous;-I think she is as harmless By those who sow them in a land that's As some who labour more and yet may arable.

charm less. 'Tis wonderful what fable will not do! Tis said it makes reality more bearable: But what's reality? Who has its clue? Grim reader! did you evet see a ghost ? Philosophy? No; she too much rejects. No; but you have heard - I understand— be Religion?' Yes; but which of all her sects?

dumb! And don't regret the time you may have lost,

For you have got that pleasure still to come: Some millions must be wrong, that's pretty And do not think I mean to sneer at most

clear:

Of these things, or by ridicule benumb Perhaps it may turn out that all were right. That source of the sublime and the mysteGod help us! Since we have need on our

rious:

For certain reasons, my belief is serious. To keep our holy beacons always bright, Tis time that some new Prophet should

appear,

Serious ? You laugh:-you may; that will Or old indulge man with a second sight. Opinions wear ont in some thousand years, My smiles must be sincere or not at all. Without a small refreshment from the I say I do believe a haunted spot

spheres.

Exists - and where? That shall I not recal,
Because I'd rather it should be forgot,

“Shadows the soul of Richard” may appal, But here again, why will I thus entangle In short, upon that subject I've some qualms Myself with metaphysics ? None can hate

very So much as I do any kind of wrangle; Like those of the Philosopher of Malmsbury. And yet, such is my folly, or my fate, I always knock my head against some angle About the present, past, or future state : The night (I sing by night—sometimes an Yet I wish well to Trojan and to Tyrian, For I was bred a moderate Presbyterian. And now and then a nightingale) - is dim,

And the loud shriek of sage Minerva's fowl

Rattles around me her discordant hymn: But though I am a temperate Theologian, Old portraits from old walls upon me And also meek as a Metaphysician,

scówImpartial between Tyrian and Trojan, I wish to heaven they would not look so As Eldon on a lunatic commission,

grim; In politics, my duty is to show John The dying embers dwindle in the grate Buil something of the lower world's con- I think too that I have sate up too late :

dition. It makes my blood boil like the springs of

Hecla,

And therefore, though 'tis by no means To see men let these scoundrel Sovereigns

my way break law. To rhyme at noon -- when I have other

things

To think of, if I ever think,-I say But politics, and policy, and piety, I feel some chilly midnight shudderings, Are topics which I sometimes introduce, And prudently postpone, until mid-day, Not only for the sake of their variety, Treating a topic which alas! but brings But as subservient to a moral use; Shadows ;- but you must be in my condition Because my business is to dress society, Before you learn to call this superstition.

iwl,

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