The Works of Lord Byron Volume VI Part 132

And full of sentiments, sublime as billows Heaving between this World and Worlds beyond, Don Juan, when the midnight hour of pillows Arrived, retired to his; but to despond Rather than rest. Instead of poppies, willows Waved o'er his couch; he meditated, fond Of those sweet bitter thoughts which banish sleep, And make the worldling sneer, the youngling weep.

CXI.

The night was as before: he was undrest, Saving his night-gown, which is an undress; Completely _sans culotte_, and without vest; In short, he hardly could be clothed with less: But apprehensive of his spectral guest, He sate with feelings awkward to express (By those who have not had such visitations), Expectant of the Ghost's fresh operations.

CXII.

And not in vain he listened;--Hus.h.!.+ what's that?

I see--I see--Ah, no!--'t is not--yet 't is-- Ye powers! it is the--the--the--Pooh! the cat!

The Devil may take that stealthy pace of his!

So like a spiritual pit-a-pat, Or tiptoe of an amatory Miss, Gliding the first time to a _rendezvous_, And dreading the chaste echoes of her shoe.

CXIII.

Again--what is 't? The wind? No, no,--this time It is the sable Friar as before, With awful footsteps regular as rhyme, Or (as rhymes may be in these days) much more.

Again through shadows of the night sublime, When deep sleep fell on men,[809] and the World wore The starry darkness round her like a girdle Spangled with gems--the Monk made his blood curdle.

CXIV.

A noise like to wet fingers drawn on gla.s.s,[810]

Which sets the teeth on edge; and a slight clatter, Like showers which on the midnight gusts will pa.s.s, Sounding like very supernatural water, Came over Juan's ear, which throbbed, alas!

For Immaterialism's a serious matter; So that even those whose faith is the most great In Souls immortal, shun them _tete-a-tete_.

CXV.

Were his eyes open?--Yes! and his mouth too.

Surprise has this effect--to make one dumb, Yet leave the gate which Eloquence slips through As wide as if a long speech were to come.

Nigh and more nigh the awful echoes drew, Tremendous to a mortal tympanum: His eyes were open, and (as was before Stated) his mouth. What opened next?--the door.

CXVI.

It opened with a most infernal creak, Like that of h.e.l.l. "Lasciate ogni speranza, Voi, ch' entrate!"[811] The hinge seemed to speak, Dreadful as Dante's _rima_, or this stanza; Or--but all words upon such themes are weak: A single shade's sufficient to entrance a Hero--for what is Substance to a Spirit?

Or how is 't _Matter_ trembles to come near it?[og]

CXVII.

The door flew wide, not swiftly,--but, as fly The sea-gulls, with a steady, sober flight-- And then swung back; nor close--but stood awry, Half letting in long shadows on the light, Which still in Juan's candlesticks burned high, For he had two, both tolerably bright, And in the doorway, darkening darkness, stood The sable Friar in his solemn hood.

CXVIII.

Don Juan shook, as erst he had been shaken The night before; but being sick of shaking, He first inclined to think he had been mistaken; And then to be ashamed of such mistaking; His own internal ghost began to awaken Within him, and to quell his corporal quaking-- Hinting that Soul and Body on the whole Were odds against a disembodied Soul.

CXIX.

And then his dread grew wrath, and his wrath fierce, And he arose, advanced--the Shade retreated; But Juan, eager now the truth to pierce, Followed, his veins no longer cold, but heated, Resolved to thrust the mystery _carte_ and _tierce_, At whatsoever risk of being defeated: The Ghost stopped, menaced, then retired, until He reached the ancient wall, then stood stone still.

CXX.

Juan put forth one arm--Eternal powers!

It touched no soul, nor body, but the wall, On which the moonbeams fell in silvery showers, Chequered with all the tracery of the Hall; He shuddered, as no doubt the bravest cowers When he can't tell what 'tis that doth appal.

How odd, a single hobgoblin's nonent.i.ty Should cause more fear than a whole host's ident.i.ty!

CXXI.

But still the Shade remained: the blue eyes glared, And rather variably for stony death; Yet one thing rather good the grave had spared, The Ghost had a remarkably sweet breath: A straggling curl showed he had been fair-haired; A red lip, with two rows of pearls beneath, Gleamed forth, as through the cas.e.m.e.nt's ivy shroud The Moon peeped, just escaped from a grey cloud.

CXXII.

And Juan, puzzled, but still curious, thrust His other arm forth--Wonder upon wonder!

It pressed upon a hard but glowing bust, Which beat as if there was a warm heart under.

He found, as people on most trials must, That he had made at first a silly blunder, And that in his confusion he had caught Only the wall, instead of what he sought.

CXXIII.

The Ghost, if Ghost it were, seemed a sweet soul As ever lurked beneath a holy hood: A dimpled chin,[oh] a neck of ivory, stole Forth into something much like flesh and blood; Back fell the sable frock and dreary cowl, And they revealed--alas! that e'er they should!

In full, voluptuous, but _not o'er_grown bulk, The phantom of her frolic Grace--Fitz-Fulke![812]

FOOTNOTES:

{572}[768] March 29, 1823.

[769] [Herodotus, _Hist._, i. 136.]

[770] [_Hamlet_, act ii. sc. 2, line 103.]

{573}[771] [The story is told of St. Thomas Aquinas, that he wrote a work _De Omnibus Rebus_, which was followed by a second treatise, _De Quibusdam Aliis._]

[772] [Not St. Augustine, but Tertullian. See his treatise, _De Carne Christi_, cap. V. c. (_Opera_, 1744, p. 310): "Crucifixus est Dei filius: non pudet, quia pudendum est: et mortuus est Dei filius: prorsus credibile est, quia ineptum est: et sepultus resurrexit: certum est quia impossibile est."]

{574}[773] ["That the dead are seen no more," said Imlac, "I will not undertake to maintain, against the concurrent and unvaried testimony of all ages, and of all nations. There is no people, rude or unlearned, among whom apparitions of the dead are not related and believed. This opinion, which perhaps prevails as far as human nature is diffused, could become universal only by its truth; those that never heard of one another would not have agreed in a tale which nothing but experience can make credible. That it is doubted by single cavillers, can very little weaken the general evidence; and some, who deny it with their tongues, confess it with their fears."--_Ra.s.selas_, chap. x.x.x., _Works_, ed.

1806, iii. 372, 373.]

{575}[774] The composition of the old Tyrian purple, whether from a sh.e.l.l-fish, or from cochineal, or from kermes, is still an article of dispute; and even its colour--some say purple, others scarlet: I say nothing.

[Kermes is cochineal, the Greek ????????. [Greek: kokkinon.] The sh.e.l.l-fish (_murex_) is the _Purpura patula_. Both substances were used as dyes.]

[775] [See Ovid, _Heroid_, Epist. ix. line 161.]

[776] [t.i.tus used to promise to "bear in mind," "to keep on his list,"

the pet.i.tions of all his supplicants, and once, at dinner-time, his conscience smote him, that he had let a day go by without a single grant, or pardon, or promotion. Hence his confession. "Amici, diem perdidi!" _Vide_ Suetonius, _De XII. Caes._, "t.i.tus," lib. viii. cap. 8.]

[777] [_Tuism_ is not in Johnson's _Dictionary_. Coleridge has a note dated 1800 (_Literary Remains_, i. 292), on "egotizing in _tuism_" but it was not included in Southey's _Omniana_ of 1812, and must have been unknown to Byron.]

{576}[778] [Sc. _toilette_, a Gallicism.]

[779] [Byron loved to make fact and fancy walk together, but, here, his memory played him false, or his art kept him true. The Black Friar walked and walks in the Guests' Refectory (or Banqueting Hall, or "Gallery" of this stanza), which adjoins the Prior's Parlour, but the room where Byron slept (in a four-post bed-a coronet, at each corner, atop) is on the floor above the Prior's Parlour, and can only be approached by a spiral staircase. Both rooms look west, and command a view of the "lake's billow" and the "cascade." Moreover, the Guests'

Refectory was never hung with "old pictures." It would seem that Don Juan (perhaps Byron on an emergency) slept in the Prior's Parlour, and that in the visionary Newstead the pictures forsook the Grand Drawing-Room for the Hall. Hence the scene! _El Libertado_ steps out of the Gothic Chamber "forth" into the "gallery," and lo! "a monk in cowl and beads." But, _Quien sabe?_ The Psalmist's caution with regard to princes is not inapplicable to poets.]