XLVIII.

High in high circles, gentle in her own,
She was the mild reprover of the young
Whenever-which means every day—they'd shown
An awkward inclination to go wrong.
The quantity of good she did's unknown,

Or at the least would lengthen out my song:
In brief, the little orphan of the East

Had raised an interest in her, which increased.

XLIX.

་

Juan, too, was a sort of favourite with her,

Because she thought him a good heart at bottom, A little spoil'd, but not so altogether;

Which was a wonder, if you think who got him, And how he had been toss'd, he scarce knew whither: Though this might ruin others, it did not him, At least entirely-for he had seen too many Changes in youth, to be surprised at any.

L.

And these vicissitudes tell best in youth;
For when they happen at a riper age,
People are apt to blame the Fates, forsooth,

And wonder Providence is not more sage.
Adversity is the first path to truth:

He who hath proved war, storm, or woman's rage, Whether his winters be eighteen or eighty,

Hath won the experience which is deem'd so weighty.

LI.

How far it profits is another matter.

Our hero gladly saw his little charge Safe with a lady, whose last grown-up daughter Being long married, and thus set at large, Had left all the accomplishments she taught her To be transmitted, like the Lord Mayor's barge, To the next comer; or- -as it will tell

More Muse-like-like to Cytherea's shell.

LII.

I call such things transmission; for there is
A floating balance of accomplishment
Which forms a pedigree from Miss to Miss,
According as their minds or backs are bent.
Some waltz; some draw; some fathom the abyss
Of metaphysics; others are content

With music; the most moderate shine as wits;
While others have a genius turn'd for fits.

LIII.

But whether fits, or wits, or harpsichords,
Theology, fine arts, or finer stays
May be the baits for gentlemen or lords

With regular descent, in these our days,

The last year to the new transfers its hoards;

New vestals claim men's eyes with the same praise Of" elegant" et cætera, in fresh batches

All matchless creatures, and yet bent on matches.

LIV.

But now I will begin my poem.

'Tis

Perhaps a little strange, if not quite new, That from the first of Cantos up to this

I've not begun what we have to go through.
These first twelve books are merely flourishes,
Preludios, trying just a string or two

Upon my lyre, or making the pegs sure;
And when so, you shall have the overture.

LV.

My Muses do not care a pinch of rosin

About what's called success, or not succeeding : Such thoughts are quite below the strain they have

chosen ;

"Tis a "great moral lesson" (1) they are reading. I thought, at setting off, about two dozen

Cantos would do; but at Apollo's pleading, If that my Pegasus should not be founder'd, I think to canter gently through a hundred.

LVI.

Don Juan saw that microcosm on stilts,

Yclept the Great World; for it is the least, Although the highest: but as swords have hilts

By which their power of mischief is increased,

(1) ["The same feeling that makes the people of France wish to keep the pictures and statues of other nations, must naturally make other nations wish, now that victory is on their side, to return those articles to the lawful owners. According to my feelings, it would not only be unjust in the Allied Sovereigns to gratify the French people, but the sacrifice they would make would be impolitic, as it would deprive them of the opportunity of giving the French nation a great moral lesson."— WELLINGTON, Paris, 1815.]

When man in battle or in quarrel tilts,

Thus the low world, north, south, or west, or east, Must still obey the high(1)—which is their handle, Their moon, their sun, their gas, their farthing candle.

LVII.

He had many friends who had many wives, and was
Well look'd upon by both, to that extent

Of friendship which you may accept or pass,
It does nor good nor harm; being merely meant
To keep the wheels going of the higher class,
And draw them nightly when a ticket's sent:
And what with masquerades, and fêtes, and balls,
For the first season such a life scarce palls.

LVIII.

A young unmarried man, with a good name
And fortune, has an awkward part to play;
For good society is but a game,

"The royal game of Goose," (2) as I may say,
Where every body has some separate aim,
An end to answer, or a plan to lay-
The single ladies wishing to be double,
The married ones to save the virgins trouble.

(1) ["Enfin partout la bonne société régle tout."

- VOLTAIRE.]

(2) This ancient game originated, I believe, in Germany, and is well calculated to make young persons ready at reckoning the produce of two given numbers. It is called the game of the goose, because at every fourth and fifth compartment of the table in succession a goose is depicted; and if the cast thrown by the player falls upon a goose, he moves forward double the number of his throw. - STRUTT.]

LIX.

I don't mean this as general, but particular
Examples may be found of such pursuits:
Though several also keep their perpendicular
Like poplars, with good principles for roots;
Yet many have a method more reticular-

"Fishers for men," like sirens with soft lutes: For talk six times with the same single lady, And you may get the wedding dresses ready.

LX.

Perhaps you'll have a letter from the mother,
To say her daughter's feelings are trepann'd;
Perhaps you'll have a visit from the brother,

All strut, and stays, and whiskers, to demand
What "your intentions are?"-One way or other
It seems the virgin's heart expects your hand:
And between pity for her case and yours,
You'll add to Matrimony's list of cures.

LXI.

I've known a dozen weddings made even thus,
And some of them high names: I have also known
Young men who-though they hated to discuss
Pretensions which they never dream'd to have
Yet neither frighten'd by a female fuss, [shown-
Nor by mustachios moved, were let alone,

And lived, as did the broken-hearted fair,
In happier plight than if they form'd a pair,