The Works of Lord Byron Volume VI Part 123

There was a goodly "soupe a la _bonne femme_"[754]

Though G.o.d knows whence it came from; there was, too, A turbot for relief of those who cram, Relieved with "dindon a la Perigeux;"

There also was----the sinner that I am!

How shall I get this gourmand stanza through?-- "Soupe a la Beauveau," whose relief was dory, Relieved itself by pork, for greater glory.

LXIV.

But I must crowd all into one grand mess Or ma.s.s; for should I stretch into detail, My Muse would run much more into excess, Than when some squeamish people deem her frail; But though a _bonne vivante_, I must confess Her stomach's not her peccant part; this tale However doth require some slight refection, Just to relieve her spirits from dejection.

LXV.

Fowls "a la Conde," slices eke of salmon, With "sauces Genevoises," and haunch of venison; Wines too, which might again have slain young Ammon--[755]

A man like whom I hope we sha'n't see many soon; They also set a glazed Westphalian ham on, Whereon Apicius would bestow his benison; And then there was champagne with foaming whirls, As white as Cleopatra's melted pearls.

LXVI.

Then there was G.o.d knows what "a l'Allemande,"

"A l'Espagnole," "timballe," and "salpicon"-- With things I can't withstand or understand, Though swallowed with much zest upon the whole; And _"entremets"_ to piddle with at hand, Gently to lull down the subsiding soul; While great Lucullus' _Robe triumphal_ m.u.f.fles-- (_There's fame_)--young partridge fillets, decked with truffles.[756]

LXVII.

What are the _fillets_ on the Victor's brow To these? They are rags or dust. Where is the arch Which nodded to the nation's spoils below?

Where the triumphal chariots' haughty march?

Gone to where Victories must like dinners go.

Farther I shall not follow the research: But oh! ye modern Heroes with your cartridges, When will your names lend l.u.s.tre e'en to partridges?

LXVIII.

Those truffles too are no bad accessaries, Followed by "pet.i.ts puits d'amour"--a dish Of which perhaps the cookery rather varies, So every one may dress it to his wish, According to the best of dictionaries, Which encyclopedize both flesh and fish; But even, sans _confitures_, it no less true is, There's pretty picking in those _pet.i.ts puits_.[757]

LXIX.

The mind is lost in mighty contemplation Of intellect expanded on two courses; And Indigestion's grand multiplication Requires arithmetic beyond my forces.

Who would suppose, from Adam's simple ration, That cookery could have called forth such resources, As form a science and a nomenclature From out the commonest demands of Nature?

LXX.

The gla.s.ses jingled, and the palates tingled; The diners of celebrity dined well; The ladies with more moderation mingled In the feast, pecking less than I can tell; Also the younger men too: for a springald Can't, like ripe Age, in _gourmandise_ excel, But thinks less of good eating than the whisper (When seated next him) of some pretty lisper.

LXXI.

Alas! I must leave undescribed the _gibier_, The _salmi_, the _consomme_, the _puree_, All which I use to make my rhymes run glibber Than could roast beef in our rough John Bull way: I must not introduce even a spare rib here, "Bubble and squeak" would spoil my liquid lay: But I have dined, and must forego, alas!

The chaste description even of a "beca.s.se;"

LXXII.

And fruits, and ice, and all that Art refines From Nature for the service of the _gout_-- _Taste_ or the _gout_,--p.r.o.nounce it as inclines Your stomach! Ere you dine, the French will do; But _after_, there are sometimes certain signs Which prove plain English truer of the two.

Hast ever _had_ the _gout_? I have not had it-- But I may have, and you too, reader, dread it.

LXXIII.

The simple olives, best allies of wine, Must I pa.s.s over in my bill of fare?

I must, although a favourite _plat_ of mine In Spain, and Lucca, Athens, everywhere: On them and bread 'twas oft my luck to dine-- The gra.s.s my table-cloth, in open air, On Sunium or Hymettus, like Diogenes, Of whom half my philosophy the progeny is.[758]

LXXIV.

Amidst this tumult of fish, flesh, and fowl, And vegetables, all in masquerade, The guests were placed according to their roll, But various as the various meats displayed: Don Juan sat next an "a l'Espagnole"-- No damsel, but a dish, as hath been said;[nx]

But so far like a lady, that 'twas drest Superbly, and contained a world of zest.

LXXV.

By some odd chance too, he was placed between Aurora and the Lady Adeline-- A situation difficult, I ween, For man therein, with eyes and heart, to dine.

Also the conference which we have seen Was not such as to encourage him to s.h.i.+ne, For Adeline, addressing few words to him, With two transcendent eyes seemed to look through him.

LXXVI.

I sometimes almost think that eyes have ears: This much is sure, that, out of earshot, things Are somehow echoed to the pretty dears, Of which I can't tell whence their knowledge springs.

Like that same mystic music of the spheres, Which no one hears, so loudly though it rings, 'Tis wonderful how oft the s.e.x have heard Long dialogues--which pa.s.sed without a word!

LXXVII.

Aurora sat with that indifference Which piques a _preux chevalier_--as it ought: Of all offences that's the worst offence, Which seems to hint you are not worth a thought.

Now Juan, though no c.o.xcomb in pretence, Was not exactly pleased to be so caught; Like a good s.h.i.+p entangled among ice-- And after so much excellent advice.

LXXVIII.

To his gay nothings, nothing was replied, Or something which was nothing, as Urbanity Required. Aurora scarcely looked aside, Nor even smiled enough for any vanity.

The Devil was in the girl! Could it be pride?

Or modesty, or absence, or inanity?

Heaven knows! But Adeline's malicious eyes Sparkled with her successful prophecies,

LXXIX.

And looked as much as if to say, "I said it;"

A kind of triumph I'll not recommend, Because it sometimes, as I have seen or read it, Both in the case of lover and of friend, Will pique a gentleman, for his own credit, To bring what was a jest to a serious end: For all men prophesy what _is_ or _was_, And hate those who won't let them come to pa.s.s.

Lx.x.x.

Juan was drawn thus into some attentions, Slight but select, and just enough to express, To females of perspicuous comprehensions, That he would rather make them more than less.

Aurora at the last (so history mentions, Though probably much less a fact than guess) So far relaxed her thoughts from their sweet prison, As once or twice to smile, if not to listen.

Lx.x.xI.

From answering she began to question: this With her was rare; and Adeline, who as yet Thought her predictions went not much amiss, Began to dread she'd thaw to a coquette-- So very difficult, they say, it is To keep extremes from meeting, when once set In motion; but she here too much refined-- Aurora's spirit was not of that kind.

Lx.x.xII.

But Juan had a sort of winning way, A proud humility, if such there be, Which showed such deference to what females say, As if each charming word were a decree.

His tact, too, tempered him from grave to gay, And taught him when to be reserved or free: He had the art of drawing people out, Without their seeing what he was about.