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The Works of Lord Byron Volume VI Part 33

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But something of the spirit of old Greece Flashed o'er his soul a few heroic rays, Such as lit onward to the Golden Fleece His predecessors in the Colchian days; 'T is true he had no ardent love for peace-- Alas! his country showed no path to praise: Hate to the world and war with every nation He waged, in vengeance of her degradation.

LVI.

Still o'er his mind the influence of the clime Shed its Ionian elegance, which showed Its power unconsciously full many a time,-- A taste seen in the choice of his abode, A love of music and of scenes sublime, A pleasure in the gentle stream that flowed Past him in crystal, and a joy in flowers, Bedewed his spirit in his calmer hours.

LVII.

But whatsoe'er he had of love reposed On that beloved daughter; she had been The only thing which kept his heart unclosed Amidst the savage deeds he had done and seen, A lonely pure affection unopposed: There wanted but the loss of this to wean His feelings from all milk of human kindness, And turn him like the Cyclops mad with blindness.[cp]

LVIII.

The cubless tigress in her jungle raging Is dreadful to the shepherd and the flock; The Ocean when its yeasty war is waging Is awful to the vessel near the rock; But violent things will sooner bear a.s.suaging, Their fury being spent by its own shock, Than the stern, single, deep, and wordless ire[cq]

Of a strong human heart, and in a Sire.

LIX.

It is a hard although a common case To find our children running restive--they In whom our brightest days we would retrace, Our little selves re-formed in finer clay, Just as old age is creeping on apace, And clouds come o'er the sunset of our day, They kindly leave us, though not quite alone, But in good company--the gout or stone.

LX.

Yet a fine family is a fine thing (Provided they don't come in after dinner); 'T is beautiful to see a matron bring Her children up (if nursing them don't thin her); Like cherubs round an altar-piece they cling To the fire-side (a sight to touch a sinner).

A lady with her daughters or her nieces s.h.i.+ne like a guinea and seven-s.h.i.+lling pieces.

LXI.

Old Lambro pa.s.sed unseen a private gate, And stood within his hall at eventide; Meantime the lady and her lover sate At wa.s.sail in their beauty and their pride: An ivory inlaid table spread with state Before them, and fair slaves on every side;[183]

Gems, gold, and silver, formed the service mostly, Mother of pearl and coral the less costly.

LXII.

The dinner made about a hundred dishes; Lamb and pistachio nuts--in short, all meats, And saffron soups, and sweetbreads; and the fishes Were of the finest that e'er flounced in nets, Dressed to a Sybarite's most pampered wishes; The beverage was various sherbets Of raisin, orange, and pomegranate juice, Squeezed through the rind, which makes it best for use.

LXIII.

These were ranged round, each in its crystal ewer, And fruits, and date-bread loaves closed the repast, And Mocha's berry, from Arabia pure, In small fine China cups, came in at last; Gold cups of filigree, made to secure The hand from burning, underneath them placed; Cloves, cinnamon, and saffron too were boiled Up with the coffee, which (I think) they spoiled.

LXIV.

The hangings of the room were tapestry, made Of velvet panels, each of different hue, And thick with damask flowers of silk inlaid; And round them ran a yellow border too; The upper border, richly wrought, displayed, Embroidered delicately o'er with blue, Soft Persian sentences, in lilac letters, From poets, or the moralists their betters.

LXV.

These Oriental writings on the wall, Quite common in those countries, are a kind Of monitors adapted to recall, Like skulls at Memphian banquets, to the mind, The words which shook Belshazzar in his hall, And took his kingdom from him: You will find, Though sages may pour out their wisdom's treasure, There is no sterner moralist than Pleasure.

LXVI.

A Beauty at the season's close grown hectic, A Genius who has drunk himself to death, A Rake turned methodistic, or Eclectic--[184]

(For that's the name they like to pray beneath)--[cr]

But most, an Alderman struck apoplectic, Are things that really take away the breath,-- And show that late hours, wine, and love are able To do not much less damage than the table.

LXVII.

Haidee and Juan carpeted their feet On crimson satin, bordered with pale blue; Their sofa occupied three parts complete Of the apartment--and appeared quite new; The velvet cus.h.i.+ons (for a throne more meet) Were scarlet, from whose glowing centre grew A sun embossed in gold, whose rays of tissue, Meridian-like, were seen all light to issue.[cs]

LXVIII.

Crystal and marble, plate and porcelain, Had done their work of splendour; Indian mats And Persian carpets, which the heart bled to stain, Over the floors were spread; gazelles and cats, And dwarfs and blacks, and such like things, that gain Their bread as ministers and favourites (that's To say, by degradation) mingled there As plentiful as in a court, or fair.

LXIX.

There was no want of lofty mirrors, and The tables, most of ebony inlaid With mother of pearl or ivory, stood at hand, Or were of tortoise-sh.e.l.l or rare woods made, Fretted with gold or silver:--by command The greater part of these were ready spread With viands and sherbets in ice--and wine-- Kept for all comers at all hours to dine.

LXX.

Of all the dresses I select Haidee's: She wore two jelicks--one was of pale yellow; Of azure, pink, and white was her chemise-- 'Neath which her breast heaved like a little billow: With b.u.t.tons formed of pearls as large as peas, All gold and crimson shone her jelick's fellow, And the striped white gauze baracan that bound her, Like fleecy clouds about the moon, flowed round her.

LXXI.

One large gold bracelet clasped each lovely arm, Lockless--so pliable from the pure gold That the hand stretched and shut it without harm, The limb which it adorned its only mould; So beautiful--its very shape would charm, And clinging, as if loath to lose its hold, The purest ore enclosed the whitest skin That e'er by precious metal was held in.[185]

LXXII.

Around, as Princess of her father's land, A like gold bar above her instep rolled[186]

Announced her rank; twelve rings were on her hand; Her hair was starred with gems; her veil's fine fold Below her breast was fastened with a band Of lavish pearls, whose worth could scarce be told; Her orange silk full Turkish trousers furled About the prettiest ankle in the world.

LXXIII.

Her hair's long auburn waves down to her heel Flowed like an Alpine torrent which the sun Dyes with his morning light,--and would conceal Her person[187] if allowed at large to run, And still they seemed resentfully to feel The silken fillet's curb, and sought to shun Their bonds whene'er some Zephyr caught began To offer his young pinion as her fan.

LXXIV.

Round her she made an atmosphere of life,[188]

The very air seemed lighter from her eyes, They were so soft and beautiful, and rife With all we can imagine of the skies, And pure as Psyche ere she grew a wife-- Too pure even for the purest human ties; Her overpowering presence made you feel It would not be idolatry to kneel.[189]

LXXV.

Her eyelashes, though dark as night, were tinged (It is the country's custom, but in vain), For those large black eyes were so blackly fringed, The glossy rebels mocked the jetty stain, And in their native beauty stood avenged: Her nails were touched with henna; but, again, The power of Art was turned to nothing, for They could not look more rosy than before.

LXXVI.

The henna should be deeply dyed to make The skin relieved appear more fairly fair; She had no need of this, day ne'er will break On mountain tops more heavenly white than her: The eye might doubt if it were well awake, She was so like a vision; I might err, But Shakespeare also says, 't is very silly "To gild refined gold, or paint the lily."[190]

LXXVII.

Juan had on a shawl of black and gold, But a white baracan, and so transparent The sparkling gems beneath you might behold, Like small stars through the milky way apparent; His turban, furled in many a graceful fold, An emerald aigrette, with Haidee's hair in 't, Surmounted as its clasp--a glowing crescent, Whose rays shone ever trembling, but incessant.

LXXVIII.

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The Works of Lord Byron Volume VI Part 33 summary

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