rose,

And curtsying off, as curtsies country-dame, Retired with most unfashionable bows Their docile esquires also did the same, Delighted with the dinner and their host, But with the Lady Adeline the most.

Some praised her beauty; others her great

grace;

The warmth of her politeness, whose sincerity

Was obvious in each feature of her face, Whose traits were radiant with the rays of verity.

Yes; She was truly worthy her high place! No one could envy her deserved prosperity; And then her dress-what beautiful simplicity

Draperied her form with curious felicity!

praises,

By an impartial indemnification
For all her past exertion and soft phrases,
In a most edifying conversation,
Which turn'd upon their late guests' miens
and faces,

And families, even to the last relation; Their hideous wives, their horrid selves and dresses,

And truculent distortion of their tresses.

broke

Forth into universal epigram:
But then 'twas to the purpose what she spoke:
LikeAddison's "faint praise," so wont to
damn,

Her own but served to set off every joke,
As music chimes in with a melodrame.
How sweet the task to shield an absent
friend!

I ask but this of mine, to-not defend.

There were but two exceptions to this keen
Skirmish of wits o'er the departed; one,
Aurora, with her pure and placid mien;
And Juan too, in general behind none
In gay remark on what he had heard or seen,
Sate silent now, his usual spirits gone;
In vain he heard the others rail or rally,
He would not join them in a single sally.

'Tis true he saw Aurora look as though She approved his silence; she perhaps mistook

Its motive for that charity we owe
But seldom pay the absent, nor would look
Further; it might or it might not be so.

dart

Of Eros; but, though thou hast play'd us many tricks,

Still we respect thee," AlmaVenus Genetrix!"

And full of sentiments, sublime as billows Heaving between this world and worlds beyond,

Don Juan, when the midnight hour of pillows
Arrived, retired to his; but to despond
Rather than rest. Instead of poppies, willows
Waved o'er his couch; he meditated, fond
Of those sweet bitter thoughts which banish
sleep,
And make the worldling sneer, the young-
ling weep.

The night was as before; he was undrest,
Saving his night-gown, which is an undress;
Completely "sans culotte," and without
vest;

In short, he hardly could be clothed with less;
But, apprehensive of his spectral guest,
He sate, with feelings awkward to express
(By those who have not had such visitations),
Expectant of the ghost's fresh operations.

And not in vain listen'd-Hush! what 's that?

I see I see- -Ah, no!-'tis not-yet 'tis Ye powers! it is the-the-the-Pooh! the cat!

The devil may take that stealthy pace of his!

So like a spiritual pit-a-pat,
Or tiptoe of an amatory Miss,
Gliding the first time to a rendezvous,
And dreading the chaste echoes of her shoe.

The door flew wide, not swiftly-but, as fly
The sea-gulls, with a steady, sober flight-
And then swung back; nor close-but stood
awry,

Half letting in long shadows on the light,
Which still in Juan's candlesticks burn'd
high,
For he had two, both tolerably bright,-
And in the door-way, darkening Darkness,

stood
The sable Friar in his solemn hood.

The night before; but, being sick of shaking, He first inclined to think he had been mistaken,

And then to be ashamed of such mistaking; His own internal ghost began to awaken Within him, and to quell his corporal quaking

Hinting, that soul and body on the whole Were odds against a disembodied soul.

And then his dread grew wrath, and his wrath fierce;

And he arose, advanced—the shade retreated; But Juan, eager now the truth to pierce, Follow'd; his veins no longer cold, but heated,

Resolved to thrust the mystery carte and tierce,

At whatsoever risk of being defeated: The ghost stopp'd, menaced, then retired, until

He reach'd the ancient wall, then stood stone-still.

Juan put forth one arm-Eternal Powers! It touch'd no soul, nor body, but the wall, On which the moonbeams fell in silvery showers

Chequer'd with all the tracery of the hall: He shudder'd, as no doubt the bravest cowers When he can't tell what 'tis that doth appal. How odd, a single hobgoblin's non-entity Should cause more fear than a whole host's identity!

But still the shade remain'd; the blue eyes glared,

And rather variably for stony death; Yet one thing rather good the grave had spared

The ghost had a remarkably sweet breath. A straggling curl show'd he had been fairhair'd;

A red lip, with two rows of pearl beneath, leam'd forth, as through the casement's ivy shroud

The moon peep'd, just escaped from a gray cloud.

And Juan, puzzled, but still curious,

thrust

His other arm forth--Wonder upon wonder! It press'd upon a hard but glowing bust, Which beat as if there was a warm heart under.

He found, as people on most trials must, That he had made at first a silly blunder,

And that in his confusion he had caught Only the wall instead of what he sought.

The ghost, if ghost it were,seem'd a sweet soul
As ever lurk'd beneath a holy hood:
A dimpled chin, a neck of ivory, stole
Forth into something much like flesh and
blood;

Back fell the sable frock and dreary cowl, And they reveal'd (alas! that e'er they should!)

In full, voluptuous, but not o'ergrown bulk, The phantom of her frolic Grace-FitzFulke!

CANTO I

THE morningwatch was come; the vessel

lay

Her course, and gently made her liquid way; The cloven billow flash'd from off her prow In furrows form'd by that majestic plough; The waters with their world were all before; Behind, the South Sea's many an islet-shore. The quiet night, now dappling, 'gan to wane, Dividing darkness from the dawning main; The dolphins, not unconscious of the day, Swam high, as eager of the coming ray; The stars from broader beams began to creep, And lift their shining eyelids from the deep; The sail resumed its lately-shadow'd white, And the wind flutter'd with a freshening flight;

The purpling ocean owns the coming SunBut, ere he break, a deed is to be done.

The gallant Chief within his cabin slept, Secure in those by whom the watch was kept: His dreams were of Old England's welcome shore,

Of toils rewarded, and of dangers o'er; His name was added to the glorious roll Of those who search the storm-surrounded

Pole.

The worst was over, and the rest seem'd sure, And why should not his slumber be secure? Alas! his deck was trod by unwilling feet, And wilder hands would hold the vessel's sheet;

Young hearts, which languish'd for some sunny isle,

Where summer years and summer women smile;

And, half-uncivilized, preferr'd the cave Of some soft savage to the uncertain wave; The gushing fruits that Nature gave untill'd; The wood without a path but where they will'd;

The field o'er which promiscuous Plenty pour'd

Her horn; the equal land without a lord; The wish-which ages have not yet subdued In man- to have no master save his mood; The Earth, whose mine was on its face, unsold The glowing sun and produce all its gold; The freedom which can call each grot a home;

The general garden, where all steps may

roam,

Where Nature owns a nation as her child, Exulting in the enjoyment of the wild; Their shells, their fruits, the only wealth they know;

Their unexploring navy, the canoe; Their sport, the dashing breakers and the chase;

Their strangest sight, an European face: Such was the country which these strangers yearn'd

To see again—a sight they dearly earn'd.

Awake, bold Bligh! the foe is at the gate! Awake! awake!--Alas! it is too late! Fiercely beside thy cot the mutineer Stands, and proclaims the reign of rage and fear.

Thy limbs are bound, the bayonet at thy breast,

The hands, which trembled at thy voice, arrest;

Dragg'd o'er the deck, no more at thy command shall veer, the sail expand;

1

estranged, changed,

which would lull by

wrath