LXXVIII.

All this she told with some confusion and
Dismay, the usual consequence of dreams
Of the unpleasant kind, with none at hand
To expound their vain and visionary gleams.
I ve known some odd ones which seem'd really plann'd
Prophetically, or that which one deems

A "strange coincidence," to use a phrase
By which such things are settled now-a-days. (1)

LXXIX.

The damsels, who had thoughts of some great harm. Began, as is the consequence of fear,

To scold a little at the false alarm

That broke for nothing on their sleeping ear. The matron, too, was wroth to leave her warm

Bed for the dream she had been obliged to hear, And chafed at poor Dudù, who only sigh'd, And said, that she was sorry she had cried.

LXXX.

I've heard of stories of a cock and bull;
But visions of an apple and a bee,

To take us from our natural rest, and pull

The whole Oda from their beds at half-past three, Would make us think the moon is at its full.

You surely are unwell, child! we must see, To-morrow, what his Highness's physician Will say to this hysteric of a vision.

(1) [One of the advocates employed for Queen Caroline in the House of Lords spoke of some of the most puzzling passages in the history of her intercourse with Bergami, as amounting to "odd instances of strange coincidence."]

LXXXI.

"And poor Juanna, too, the child's first night
Within these walls, to be broke in upon
With such a clamour-I had thought it right
That the young stranger should not lie alone,
And, as the quietest of all, she might

With you, Dudu, a good night's rest have known;
But now I must transfer her to the charge
Of Lolah-though her couch is not so large."

LXXXII.

Lolah's eyes sparkled at the proposition;

But poor Dudù, with large drops in her own,
Resulting from the scolding or the vision,

Implored that present pardon might be shown
For this first fault, and that on no condition
(She added in a soft and piteous tone)
Juanna should be taken from her, and
Her future dreams should all be kept in hand.

LXXXIII.

She promised never more to have a dream,
At least to dream so loudly as just now ;
She wonder'd at herself how she could scream
'T was foolish, nervous, as she must allow,
A fond hallucination, and a theme

For laughter-but she felt her spirits low,
And begg'd they would excuse her; she'd get over
This weakness in a few hours, and recover.

LXXXIV.

And here Juanna kindly interposed,

And said she felt herself extremely well Where she then was, as her sound sleep disclosed When all around rang like a tocsin bell: She did not find herself the least disposed To quit her gentle partner, and to dwell Apart from one who had no sin to show Save that of dreaming once" mal-à-propos."

LXXXV.

As thus Juanna spoke, Dudù turn'd round
And hid her face within Juanna's breast:
Her neck alone was seen, but that was found
The colour of a budding rose's crest.
I can't tell why she blush'd, nor can expound
The mystery of this rupture of their rest;
All that I know is, that the facts I state
Are true as truth has ever been of late.

LXXXVI.

And so good night to them,-or, if you will,

Good morrow-for the cock had crown,

Began to clothe each Asiatic hill,

and light

And the mosque crescent struggled into sight Of the long caravan, which in the chill

Of dewy dawn wound slowly round each height That stretches to the stony belt, which girds Asia, where Kaff looks down upon the Kurds.

LXXXVII.

With the first ray, or rather grey of morn,
Gulbeyaz rose from restlessness; and pale
As Passion rises, with its bosom worn,

Array'd herself with mantle, gem, and veil.
The nightingale that sings with the deep thorn,
Which fable places in her breast of wail,
Is lighter far of heart and voice than those
Whose headlong passions form their proper woes.

LXXXVIII.

And that's the moral of this composition,
If people would but see its real drift ;-
But that they will not do without suspicion,
Because all gentle readers have the gift
Of closing 'gainst the light their orbs of vision;
While gentle writers also love to lift

Their voices 'gainst each other, which is natural,
The numbers are too great for them to flatter all.

LXXXIX.

Rose the sultana from a bed of splendour,
Softer than the soft Sybarite's, who cried
Aloud because his feelings were too tender

To brook a ruffled rose-leaf by his side,-
So beautiful that art could little mend her,
Though pale with conflicts between love and

So agitated was she with her error,

She did not even look into the mirror.

[pride;

XC.

Also arose about the self-same time,
Perhaps a little later, her great lord,
Master of thirty kingdoms so sublime,

And of a wife by whom he was abhorr'd; A thing of much less import in that climeAt least to those of incomes which afford The filling up their whole connubial cargoThan where two wives are under an embargo.

XCI.

He did not think much on the matter, nor
Indeed on any other: as a man

He liked to have a handsome paramour
At hand, as one may like to have a fan,
And therefore of Circassians had good store,
As an amusement after the Divan;
Though an unusual fit of love, or duty,
Had made him lately bask in his bride's beauty.

XCII.

And now he rose; and after due ablutions
Exacted by the customs of the East,
And prayers and other pious evolutions,

He drank six cups of coffee at the least,
And then withdrew to hear about the Russians,
Whose victories had recently increased

In Catherine's reign, whom glory still adores
As greatest of all sovereigns and w——s.