The Works of Lord Byron Volume VI Part 49

At last they settled into simple grumbling, And pulling out reluctant purses, and Turning each piece of silver o'er, and tumbling Some down, and weighing others in their hand, And by mistake sequins[276] with paras jumbling, Until the sum was accurately scanned, And then the merchant giving change, and signing Receipts in full, began to think of dining.

x.x.x.

I wonder if his appet.i.te was good?

Or, if it were, if also his digestion?

Methinks at meals some odd thoughts might intrude, And Conscience ask a curious sort of question, About the right divine how far we should Sell flesh and blood. When dinner has oppressed one, I think it is perhaps the gloomiest hour Which turns up out of the sad twenty-four.

x.x.xI.

Voltaire says "No:" he tells you that Candide Found life most tolerable after meals;[277]

He's wrong--unless man were a pig, indeed, Repletion rather adds to what he feels, Unless he's drunk, and then no doubt he's freed From his own brain's oppression while it reels.

Of food I think with Philip's son[278] or rather Ammon's (ill pleased with one world and one father);[ew]

x.x.xII.

I think with Alexander, that the act Of eating, with another act or two, Makes us feel our mortality in fact Redoubled; when a roast and a ragout, And fish, and soup, by some side dishes backed, Can give us either pain or pleasure, who Would pique himself on intellects, whose use Depends so much upon the gastric juice?

x.x.xIII.

The other evening ('t was on Friday last)-- This is a fact, and no poetic fable-- Just as my great coat was about me cast, My hat and gloves still lying on the table, I heard a shot--'t was eight o'clock scarce past-- And, running out as fast as I was able,[279]

I found the military commandant Stretched in the street, and able scarce to pant.

x.x.xIV.

Poor fellow! for some reason, surely bad, They had slain him with five slugs; and left him there To perish on the pavement: so I had Him borne into the house and up the stair, And stripped, and looked to[ex]----But why should I add More circ.u.mstances? vain was every care; The man was gone--in some Italian quarrel Killed by five bullets from an old gun-barrel.

x.x.xV.

I gazed upon him, for I knew him well; And though I have seen many corpses, never Saw one, whom such an accident befell, So calm; though pierced through stomach, heart, and liver, He seemed to sleep,--for you could scarcely tell (As he bled inwardly, no hideous river Of gore divulged the cause) that he was dead: So as I gazed on him, I thought or said--

x.x.xVI.

"Can this be Death? then what is Life or Death?

Speak!" but he spoke not: "wake!" but still he slept:-- "But yesterday and who had mightier breath?

A thousand warriors by his word were kept In awe: he said, as the Centurion saith, 'Go,' and he goeth; 'come,' and forth he stepped.

The trump and bugle till he spake were dumb-- And now nought left him but the m.u.f.fled drum."[ey]

x.x.xVII.

And they who waited once and wors.h.i.+pped--they With their rough faces thronged about the bed To gaze once more on the commanding clay Which for the last, though not the first, time bled; And such an end! that he who many a day Had faced Napoleon's foes until they fled,-- The foremost in the charge or in the sally, Should now be butchered in a civic alley.

x.x.xVIII.

The scars of his old wounds were near his new, Those honourable scars which brought him fame; And horrid was the contrast to the view---- But let me quit the theme; as such things claim Perhaps even more attention than is due From me: I gazed (as oft I have gazed the same) To try if I could wrench aught out of Death Which should confirm, or shake, or make a faith;

x.x.xIX.

But it was all a mystery. Here we are, And there we go:--but _where_? five bits of lead, Or three, or two, or one, send very far!

And is this blood, then, formed but to be shed?

Can every element our elements mar?

And Air--Earth--Water--Fire live--and we dead?

_We_, whose minds comprehend all things? No more; But let us to the story as before.

XL.

The purchaser of Juan and acquaintance Bore off his bargains to a gilded boat, Embarked himself and them, and off they went thence As fast as oars could pull and water float; They looked like persons being led to sentence, Wondering what next, till the caique[280] was brought Up in a little creek below a wall O'ertopped with cypresses, dark-green and tall.

XLI.

Here their conductor tapping at the wicket Of a small iron door, 't was opened, and He led them onward, first through a low thicket Flanked by large groves, which towered on either hand: They almost lost their way, and had to pick it-- For night was closing ere they came to land.

The eunuch made a sign to those on board, Who rowed off, leaving them without a word.

XLII.

As they were plodding on their winding way Through orange bowers, and jasmine, and so forth: (Of which I might have a good deal to say, There being no such profusion in the North Of oriental plants, _et cetera_, But that of late your scribblers think it worth Their while to rear whole hotbeds in _their_ works, Because _one_ poet travelled 'mongst the Turks:)[281]

XLIII.

As they were threading on their way, there came Into Don Juan's head a thought, which he Whispered to his companion:--'t was the same Which might have then occurred to you or me.

"Methinks,"--said he,--"it would be no great shame If we should strike a stroke to set us free; Let's knock that old black fellow on the head, And march away--'t were easier done than said."

XLIV.

"Yes," said the other, "and when done, what then?

_How_ get out? how the devil got we in?

And when we once were fairly out, and when From Saint Bartholomew we have saved our skin,[282][ez]

To-morrow'd see us in some other den, And worse off than we hitherto have been; Besides, I'm hungry, and just now would take, Like Esau, for my birthright a beef-steak.

XLV.

"We must be near some place of man's abode;-- For the old negro's confidence in creeping, With his two captives, by so queer a road, Shows that he thinks his friends have not been sleeping; A single cry would bring them all abroad: 'T is better therefore looking before leaping-- And there, you see, this turn has brought us through, By Jove, a n.o.ble palace!--lighted too."

XLVI.

It was indeed a wide extensive building Which opened on their view, and o'er the front There seemed to be besprent a deal of gilding And various hues, as is the Turkish wont,-- A gaudy taste; for they are little skilled in The arts of which these lands were once the font: Each villa on the Bosphorus looks a screen New painted, or a pretty opera-scene.[283]

XLVII.

And nearer as they came, a genial savour Of certain stews, and roast-meats, and pilaus, Things which in hungry mortals' eyes find favour, Made Juan in his harsh intentions pause, And put himself upon his good behaviour: His friend, too, adding a new saving clause, Said, "In Heaven's name let's get some supper now, And then I'm with you, if you're for a row."

XLVIII.

Some talk of an appeal unto some pa.s.sion, Some to men's feelings, others to their reason; The last of these was never much the fas.h.i.+on, For Reason thinks all reasoning out of season: Some speakers whine, and others lay the lash on, But more or less continue still to tease on, With arguments according to their "forte:"

But no one ever dreams of being short.--

XLIX.

But I digress: of all appeals,--although I grant the power of pathos, and of gold, Of beauty, flattery, threats, a s.h.i.+lling,--no Method's more sure at moments to take hold[fa]