XVII.

That is, we cannot pardon their bad taste,
For so it seems to lovers swift or slow,
Who fain would have a mutual flame confess'd,
And see a sentimental passion glow,
Even were St. Francis' paramour their guest,
In his monastic concubine of snow ;—(1)
In short, the maxim for the amorous tribe is
Horatian," Medio tu tutissimus ibis."

XVIII.

The "tu"'s too much,-but let it stand,-the verse Requires it, that's to say, the English rhyme, And not the pink of old hexameters ;

But, after all, there's neither tune nor time In the last line, which cannot well be worse, And was thrust in to close the octave's chime: I own no prosody can ever rate it

As a rule, but truth may, if you translate it.

XIX.

If fair Gulbeyaz overdid her part,

I know not-it succeeded, and success
Is much in most things, not less in the heart
Than other articles of female dress.

(1) "The blessed Francis, being strongly solicited one day by the emotions of the flesh, pulled off his clothes and scourged himself soundly: being after this inflamed with a wonderful fervour of mind, he plunged his naked body into a great heap of snow. The devil, being overcome, retired immediately, and the holy man returned victorious into his cell.' -See BUTLER's Lives of the Saints.

Self-love in man, too, beats all female art;
They lie, we lie, all lie, but love no less:
And no one virtue yet, except starvation,
Could stop that worst of vices-propagation.

XX.

We leave this royal couple to repose:

A bed is not a throne, and they may sleep,
Whate'er their dreams be, if of joys or woes:
Yet disappointed joys are woes as deep
As any man's clay mixture undergoes.

Our least of sorrows are such as we weep;
'Tis the vile daily drop on drop which wears
The soul out (like the stone) with petty cares.

XXI.

A scolding wife, a sullen son, a bill

To pay, unpaid, protested, or discounted At a per-centage; a child cross, dog ill,

A favourite horse fallen lame just as he's mounted, A bad old woman making a worse will,

Which leaves you minus of the cash you counted As certain; these are paltry things, and yet

I've rarely seen the man they did not fret.

XXII.

I'm a philosopher; confound them all!

Bills, beasts, and men, and—no! not womankind!

With one good hearty curse I vent my gall,

And then my stoicism leaves nought behind

Which it can either pain or evil call,

And I can give my whole soul up to mind;

Though what is soul or mind, their birth or growth, Is more than I know- the deuce take them both!

XXIII.

So now all things are d―n'd one feels at ease,
As after reading Athanasius' curse,

Which doth your true believer so much please:
I doubt if any now could make it worse
O'er his worst enemy when at his knees,
'Tis so sententious, positive, and terse,
And decorates the book of Common Prayer
As doth a rainbow the just clearing air.

XXIV.

Gulbeyaz and her lord were sleeping, or

At least one of them!-Oh, the heavy night, When wicked wives, who love some bachelor, Lie down in dudgeon to sigh for the light Of the grey morning, and look vainly for

Its twinkle through the lattice dusky quiteTo toss, to tumble, doze, revive, and quake Lest their too lawful bed-fellow should wake!

XXV.

These are beneath the canopy of heaven,
Also beneath the canopy of beds

Four-posted and silk-curtain'd, which are given

For rich men and their brides to lay their heads

Upon, in sheets white as what bards call " driven
Snow." Well! 'tis all hap-hazard when one weds.
Gulbeyaz was an empress, but had been
Perhaps as wretched if a peasant's quean.(')

XXVI.

Don Juan in his feminine disguise,

With all the damsels in their long array,
Had bow'd themselves before th' imperial eyes,
And at the usual signal ta'en their way
Back to their chambers, those long galleries
In the seraglio, where the ladies lay
Their delicate limbs; a thousand bosoms there
Beating for love, as the caged bird's for air.

XXVII.

I love the sex, and sometimes would reverse
The tyrant's (2) wish," that mankind only had
One neck, which he with one fell stroke might pierce:".
My wish is quite as wide, but not so bad,

And much more tender on the whole than fierce;
It being (not now, but only while a lad)
That womankind had but one rosy mouth,
To kiss them all at once from North to South.

(1) [The bards of Queen Caroline, in the Times newspaper, were continually, during the period of her trial, ringing the changes on the "driven snow" of her purity.-E.]

(2) Caligula see Suetonius. "Being in a rage at the people, for favouring a party in the Circensian games in opposition to him, he cried out, I wish the Roman people had but one neck.'"

XXVIII.

Oh, enviable Briareus! with thy hands

And heads, if thou hadst all things multiplied
In such proportion!-But my Muse withstands
The giant thought of being a Titan's bride,
Or travelling in Patagonian lands;

So let us back to Lilliput, and guide
Our hero through the labyrinth of love
In which we left him several lines above.

XXIX.

He went forth with the lovely Odalisques, (1)
At the given signal join'd to their array;
And though he certainly ran many risks,

Yet he could not at times keep, by the way, (Although the consequences of such frisks

Are worse than the worst damages men pay In moral England, where the thing's a tax,) From ogling all their charms from breasts to backs.

XXX.

Still he forgot not his disguise :- along

The galleries from room to room they walk'd, A virgin-like and edifying throng,

By eunuchs flank'd; while at their head there stalk'd

A dame who kept up discipline among

The female ranks, so that none stirr'd or talk'd

Without her sanction on their she-parades:

Her title was

"the Mother of the Maids."

(1) The ladies of the seraglio.