The Works of Lord Byron Volume VI Part 2

"Would _he_ subside into a hackney Laureate-- A scribbling, self-sold, soul-hired, scorned Iscariot?"

I doubt if "Laureate" and "Iscariot" be good rhymes, but must say, as Ben Jonson did to Sylvester, who challenged him to rhyme with--

"I, John Sylvester, Lay with your sister."

Jonson answered--"I, Ben Jonson, lay with your wife." Sylvester answered,--"That is not rhyme."--"No," said Ben Jonson; "but it is _true_."

[For Robert Stewart, Viscount Castlereagh, see _The Age of Bronze_, line 538, _Poetical Works_, 1901, v. 568, note 2; and _Letters_, 1900, iv.

108, note 1.]

{8}[9] For the character of Eutropius, the eunuch and minister at the court of Arcadius, see Gibbon, [_Decline and Fall_, 1825, ii. 307, 308].

[10] ["Mr. John Murray,--As publisher to the Admiralty and of various Government works, if the five stanzas concerning Castlereagh should risk your ears or the Navy List, you may omit them in the publication--in that case the two last lines of stanza 10 [_i.e_. 11] must end with the couplet (lines 7, 8) inscribed in the margin. The stanzas on Castlerighi (as the Italians call him) are 11, 12, 13, 14, 15."--_MS. M_.]

[11] [Commenting on a "pathetic sentiment" of Leoni, the author of the Italian translation of _Childe Harold_ ("Sciagurata condizione di questa mia patria!"), Byron affirms that the Italians execrated Castlereagh "as the cause, by the conduct of the English at Genoa." "Surely," he exclaims, "that man will not die in his bed: there is no spot of the earth where his name is not a hissing and a curse. Imagine what must be the man's talent for Odium, who has contrived to spread his infamy like a pestilence from Ireland to Italy, and to make his name an execration in all languages."--Letter to Murray, May 8, 1820, _Letters_, 1901, v.

22, note 1.]

{9}[12] [Charles James Fox and the Whig Club of his time adopted a uniform of blue and buff. Hence the livery of the _Edinburgh Review_.]

[13] I allude not to our friend Landor's hero, the traitor Count Julian, but to Gibbon's hero, vulgarly yclept "The Apostate."

DON JUAN

CANTO THE FIRST.[14]

I.

I WANT a hero: an uncommon want, When every year and month sends forth a new one, Till, after cloying the gazettes with cant, The age discovers he is not the true one; Of such as these I should not care to vaunt, I'll therefore take our ancient friend Don Juan-- We all have seen him, in the pantomime,[15]

Sent to the Devil somewhat ere his time.

II.

Vernon,[16] the butcher c.u.mberland, Wolfe, Hawke, Prince Ferdinand, Granby, Burgoyne, Keppel, Howe, Evil and good, have had their t.i.the of talk, And filled their sign-posts then, like Wellesley now; Each in their turn like Banquo's monarchs stalk, Followers of Fame, "nine farrow"[17] of that sow: France, too, had Buonaparte[18] and Dumourier[19]

Recorded in the Moniteur and Courier.

III.

Barnave, Brissot, Condorcet, Mirabeau, Petion, Clootz, Danton, Marat, La Fayette[20]

Were French, and famous people, as we know; And there were others, scarce forgotten yet, Joubert, Hoche, Marceau, Lannes, Desaix, Moreau,[21]

With many of the military set, Exceedingly remarkable at times, But not at all adapted to my rhymes.

IV.

Nelson was once Britannia's G.o.d of War, And still should be so, but the tide is turned; There's no more to be said of Trafalgar, 'T is with our hero quietly inurned; Because the army's grown more popular, At which the naval people are concerned; Besides, the Prince is all for the land-service.

Forgetting Duncan, Nelson, Howe, and Jervis.

V.

Brave men were living before Agamemnon[22]

And since, exceeding valorous and sage, A good deal like him too, though quite the same none; But then they shone not on the poet's page, And so have been forgotten:--I condemn none, But can't find any in the present age Fit for my poem (that is, for my new one); So, as I said, I'll take my friend Don Juan.

VI.

Most epic poets plunge _"in medias res"_[23]

(Horace makes this the heroic turnpike road), And then your hero tells, whene'er you please, What went before--by way of episode, While seated after dinner at his ease, Beside his mistress in some soft abode, Palace, or garden, paradise, or cavern, Which serves the happy couple for a tavern.

VII.

That is the usual method, but not mine-- My way is to begin with the beginning; The regularity of my design Forbids all wandering as the worst of sinning, And therefore I shall open with a line (Although it cost me half an hour in spinning), Narrating somewhat of Don Juan's father, And also of his mother, if you'd rather.

VIII.

In Seville was he born, a pleasant city, Famous for oranges and women,--he Who has not seen it will be much to pity, So says the proverb[24]--and I quite agree; Of all the Spanish towns is none more pretty, Cadiz perhaps--but that you soon may see;-- Don Juan's parents lived beside the river, A n.o.ble stream, and called the Guadalquivir.

IX.

His father's name was Jose-_Don_, of course,-- A true Hidalgo, free from every stain Of Moor or Hebrew blood, he traced his source Through the most Gothic gentlemen of Spain; A better cavalier ne'er mounted horse, Or, being mounted, e'er got down again, Than Jose, who begot our hero, who Begot--but that's to come----Well, to renew:

X.[25]

His mother was a learned lady, famed For every branch of every science known-- In every Christian language ever named, With virtues equalled by her wit alone: She made the cleverest people quite ashamed, And even the good with inward envy groan, Finding themselves so very much exceeded, In their own way, by all the things that she did.

XI.

Her memory was a mine: she knew by heart All Calderon and greater part of Lope; So, that if any actor missed his part, She could have served him for the prompter's copy; For her Feinagle's were an useless art,[26]

And he himself obliged to shut up shop--he Could never make a memory so fine as That which adorned the brain of Donna Inez.

XII.

Her favourite science was the mathematical, Her n.o.blest virtue was her magnanimity, Her wit (she sometimes tried at wit) was Attic all, Her serious sayings darkened to sublimity;[a]

In short, in all things she was fairly what I call A prodigy--her morning dress was dimity, Her evening silk, or, in the summer, muslin, And other stuffs, with which I won't stay puzzling.

XIII.

She knew the Latin--that is, "the Lord's prayer,"

And Greek--the alphabet--I'm nearly sure; She read some French romances here and there, Although her mode of speaking was not pure; For native Spanish she had no great care, At least her conversation was obscure; Her thoughts were theorems, her words a problem, As if she deemed that mystery would enn.o.ble 'em.

XIV.

She liked the English and the Hebrew tongue, And said there was a.n.a.logy between 'em; She proved it somehow out of sacred song, But I must leave the proofs to those who've seen 'em; But this I heard her say, and can't be wrong, And all may think which way their judgments lean 'em, "'T is strange--the Hebrew noun which means 'I am,'

The English always use to govern d--n."

XV.

Some women use their tongues--she _looked_ a lecture, Each eye a sermon, and her brow a homily, An all-in-all sufficient self-director, Like the lamented late Sir Samuel Romilly,[27]

The Law's expounder, and the State's corrector, Whose suicide was almost an anomaly-- One sad example more, that "All is vanity,"-- (The jury brought their verdict in "Insanity!")