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Each carriage was announced, and Ladies | But Juan, sitting silent in his nook,


Observing little in his reverie,
And curtsying off, as curtsies country-dame, Yet saw this much, which he was glad to see.
Retired : with most unfashionable bows
Their docile esquires also did the same,
Delighted with the dinner and their host, The ghost at least had done him this much
But with the Lady Adeline the most.

In making him as silent as a ghost,

If in the circumstances which ensued Some praised her beauty; others her great He gaind esteem where it was worth the grace;

most. The warmth of her politeness, whose sin- And certainly Aurora had renew'd


In him some feelings he had lately lost Was obvious in each feature of her face, Or harden'd; feelings which, perhaps ideal, Whose traits were radiant with the rays Are so divine, that I must deem them real:

of verity. Yes ; She was truly worthy her high place! No one could envy her deserved prosperity; The love of higher things and better days; And then her dress — what beautiful sim- The unbounded hope, and heavenly igno

plicity Draperied her form with curious felicity! Of what is call'd the world and the world's

ways ;

The moments when we gather from a glance Meanwhile sweet Adeline deserved their More joy than from all future pride or praises,

praise, By an impartial indemnification

Which kindle manhood, but can ne'er enFor all her past exertion and soft phrases,

trance In a most edifying conversation,

The heart in an existence of its own, Which turn'd upon their late guests' miens Of which another's bosom is the zone.

and faces, And families, even to the last relation; Their hideous wives, their horrid selves Who would not sigh Al ai tov Kv Jepetav!

and dresses, That hath a memory, or that had a heart? And truculent distortion of their tresses. Alas! her star must wane like that of Dian;

Ray fades on ray, as years on years depart.

Anacreon only had the soul to tie an True, she said little'twas the rest that Unwithering myrtle round the unblunted broke

dart Forth into universal epigram:

Of Eros; but, though thou hast play'd ns But then 'twas to the purpose what she spoke: Like Addison's “ faint praise,” so wont to Still we respect thee,“AlmaVenusGenetrix!"

damn, Her own but served to set off every joke, As music chimes in with a melodrame. And full of sentiments, sublime as billows How sweet the task to shield an absent | Heaving between this world and worlds friend!

beyond, I ask but this of mine, to - not defend. Don Juan, when the midnight hour of pillows

Arrived, retired to his; but to despond

Rather than rest. Instead of poppies, willows There were but two exceptions to this keen Waved o'er his couch; he meditated, fond Skirmish of wits o’er the departed; one, Of those sweet bitter thoughts which banish Aurora, with her pure and placid mien;

sleep, And Juan too, in general behind none And make the worldling sneer, the youngIn gay remark on what he had heard or seen,

ling weep. Sate silent now, his usual spirits gone; In vain he heard the others rail or rally, He would not join them in a single sally. The night was as before; he was undrest,


Saving his night-gown, which is an undress;

Completely “sans culotte,” and without 'Tis true he saw Aurora look as thongh

vest; She approved his silence; she perhaps In short, he hardly could be clothed with less;


But, apprehensive of his spectral guest, Its motive for that charity we owe He sate, with feelings awkward to express But seldom pay the absent, nor would look |(By those who have not had such visitations), Further; it might or it might not be so. Expectant of the ghost's fresh operations.

many tricks,

And not in vain listen'd-Hush! what 's | The door flew wide, not swiftly-but, as fly


The sea-gulls, with a steady, sober flightI see--I see-Ah, no!-'tis not-yet 'tis - And then swung back; nor close, but stood Ye powers ! it is the-the-the-Pooh! the

awry, cat!

Half letting in long shadows on the light, The devil may take that stealthy pace Which still in Juan's candlesticks burn'd of his !

high, So like a spiritual pit-a-pat,

For he had two, both tolerably bright, Or tiptoe of an amatory Miss,

And in the door-way, darkening Darkness, Gliding the first time to a rendezvous,

stood And dreading the chaste echoes of her shoe. The sable Friar in his solemn hood.


will pass,

Again-wbat is 't? The wind ? No, no,– Don Juan shook, as erst he had been shaken

this time

The night before; but, being sick of shaking, It is the sable Friar as before,

He first inclined to think he had been With awful footsteps regular as rhyme,

mistaken, Or (as rhymes may be in these days) much And then to be ashamed of such mistaking;

His own internal ghost began to awaken Again, through shadows of the night sub- Within him, and to quell his corporal lime,

quakingWhen deep sleep fell on men, and the Hinting, that soul and body on the whole

world wore

Were odds against a disembodied soul. The starry darkness round her like a girdle Spangled with gems—the monk made his blood curdle. And then his dread grew wrath, and his

wrath fierce;

And he arose, advanced--the shade retreated; A noise like to wet fingers drawn on glass, But Juan, eager now the truth to pierce, Which sets the teeth on edge; and a slight Follow'd; his veins no longer cold, but clatter

heated, Like showers which on the midnight gusts Resolved to thrust the mystery carte and

tierce, Sounding like very supernatural water, At whatsoever risk of being defeated : Came over Juan's ear, which throbb’d, alas! The ghost stopp’d, menaced, then retired, For immaterialism 's a serious matter;

until So that even those whose faith is the most He reach'd the ancient wall, then stood great

stone-still. In souls immortal, shun them tête-à-tête.

Juan put forth one arm-Eternal Powers! Were his eyes open ?-Yes! and his mouth It touch'd no soul, nor body, but the wall,


On which the moonbeams fell in silvery Surprise has this effect - to make one dumb,

showers Yet leave the gate which Eloquence slips Chequer'd with all the tracery of the hall:


He shudder'd, as no doubt the bravest cowers As wide as if a long speech were to When he can't tell what 'tis that doth appal.

How odd, a single hobgoblin's non-entity Nigh and more nigh the awful echoes drew, Should cause more fear than a whole host's Tremendous to a mortal tympanum:

His eyes were open, and (as was before
Stated) his mouth. What open'd next?-

the door.
But still the shade remain'd; the blue eyes


And rather variably for stony death ; It opend with a most infernal creak, Yet one thing rather good the grave had Like that of Hell. “Lasciate ogni speranza

spared Voi che entrate!" The hinge seem'd to The ghost had a remarkably sweet breath.


A straggling curl show'd he had been fairDreadful as Dante's rima, or this stanza ;

hair’d; Or – but all words upon such themes are A red lip, with two rows of pearl beneath,


Pleam'd forth, as through the casement's A single shade's sufficient to entrance .

ivy shroud Hero – for what is substance to a spirit? The moon peep'd, just escaped from a gray Or how is't matter trembles to come near it?



And Juan, puzzled, but still curious, The ghost, if ghost it were,seem'd a sweet soul


As ever lurk'd beneath a holy hood : His other arm forth--Wonder upon wonder! A dimpled chin, a neck of ivory, stole It press'd upon a hard but glowing bust, Forth into something much like flesh and Which beat as if there was a warm heart

blood; under.

Back fell the sable frock and dreary cowl, He found, as people on most trials must, And they reveald (alas! that e'er they That he had made at first a silly

should!) blunder,

In full, voluptuous, but not o'ergrown bulk, And that in his confusion he had caught The phantom of her frolic Grace-FitzOnly the wall instead of what he sought.



CANTO 1. And, half-uncivilized, preferr'd the cave

Of some soft savage to the uncertain wave;

The gushing fruits that Nature gave untillid; The morningwatch was come; the vessel The wood without a path but where they lay

willid; Her course, and gently made her liquid way; The field o'er which promiscuous Plenty The cloven billow flash'd from off her prow

pour'd In furrows formd by that majestic plough; Her horn; the equal land without a lord; The waters with their world were all before; The wish-which ages have not yet subdued Behind, the South Sea's many an islet-shore. In man - to have no master save his mood; The quiet night, now dappling, 'gan to wane, The Earth, whose mine was on its face, unsold Dividing darkness from the dawning main; The glowing sun and produce all its gold; The dolphins, not unconscious of the day, The freedom which can call each grot a Swam high, as eager of the coming ray;

homo; The stars from broader beams began to creep, The general garden, where all steps may And lift their shining eyelids from the deep;

roam, The sail resumed its lately-shadow'd white, Where Nature owns a nation as her child, And the wind flutter'd with a freshening Exulting in the enjoyment of the wild ;


Their shells, their fruits, the only wealth The purpling ocean owns the coming Sun

they know; But, ere he break, a deed is to be done. Their unexploring pavy, the canoe;

Their sport, the dashing breakers and the

chase; The gallant Chief within his cabin slept, Their strangest sight, an European face: Secure in those by whom the watch was kept: Such was the country which these strangers His dreams were of Old England's welcome


To see again—a sight they dearly earn'd. of toils rewarded, and of dangers o’er; His name was added to the glorious roll Of those who search the storm-surrounded Awake, bold Bligh! the foe is at the gate!


Awake! awake!

--Alas! it is too late ! The worst was over, and the rest seem'd sure, Fiercely beside thy cot the mutineer And why should not his slumber be secure? Stands, and proclaims the reign of rage Alas! his deck was trod by unwilling feet,

and fear. And wilder hands would hold the vessel's Thy limbs are bound, the bayonet at thy sheet;

breast, Young hearts, which languish'd for some The hands, which trembled at thy voice,

arrest; Where summer years and summer women Dragg'd o'er the deck, no more at thy smile;

command Men without country, who, too long The obedient helm shall veer, the sail estranged,

expand; Had found no native home, or fonnd it That savage spirit, which would lull by changed,



sunny isle,

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er's cry;

Its desperate escape from duty's path, The friendly hearts, the fcasts without a toil, Glares round thee, in the scarce-believing The courteous manners but from Nature eyes

caught, Of those who fear the Chief they sacrifice; The wealth unhoarded, and the love unFor ne'er can man his conscience all assuage,

bought; Unless he drain the wine of passion--rage. Could these have charms for rudest sea-boys,

driven In vain, not silenced by the eye of death, And now, even now prepared with others'

Before the mast by every wind of Heaven? Thou call'st the loyal with thy menaced

breath :

To earn mild Virtuc's vain desire- repose? They come not; they are few,and,overawed, Alas! such is our nature! all but aim Must acquiesce while sterner hearts applaud. At the same end, by pathways not the same; In vain thou dost demand the cause; a curse Our means, our birth, our nation, and our Is all the answer, with the threat of worse.

name, Full in thine eyes is waved the glittering Our fortąne, temper, even

our outward blade,

frame, Close to thy throat the pointed bayonet laid, Are far more potent o'er our yielding clay The leveli'd muskets circle round thy breast Than aught we know beyond our little day. In hands as steeld to do the deadly rest.

Yet still there whispers the small voice Thou dar’st them to their worst, exclaiming,

within, “Fire!"

Heard through Gain's silence, and o'er But they who pitied not could yet admire;

Glory's din : Some lurking remnant of their former awe Whatever creed be taught or land be trod, Restraind them longer than their broken Man's conscience is the oracle of God!

law; They would not dip their souls at once in


The launch is crowded with the faithful But left thee to the mercies of the flood.

few Who wait their Chief, a melancholy crew:

But some remain'd reluctant on the deck “Hoist out the boat!” was now the lead- of that proud vessel - now a moral wreck-

And view'd their Captain's fate with piteous And who dare answer “No” to Mutiny,

eyes; In the first dawning of the drunken hour,

While others scoffd bis augur'd miserics, The Saturnalia of anhoped-for power? The boat is lower'd with all the haste of hate, And the slight bark, so laden and so frail.

Sneer'd at the prospect of his pigmy sail, With its slight plank between thee and thy The tender Nautilus who steers his prow,


The sea-born sailor of his shell-canoe, Her only cargo such a scant supply

The ocean Mab, the fairy of the sea, As promises the death their hands deny;

Seems far less fragile, and, alas! more free! And just enough of water and of bread

He, when the lightning-wing’d Tornados To keep, some days, the dying from the dead:

sweep Some cordage, canvas, sails, and lines, and The surge, is safe-his port is in the deep


And triumphs o'er the Armadas of mankind, But treasures all to Hermits of the brine,

Which shake the world, yet crumble in the Were added after, to the earnest prayer

Of those who saw no hope save sea and air;
And last, that trembling vassal of the Pole,
The feeling compass, Navigation's Soul.

When all was now prepared, the vessel


Which hail'd her master in the mutineerAnd now the self-elected Chief finds time A seaman, less obdurate than his inates, To stun the first sensation of his crime, Show'd the vain pity which but irritates; And raise it in his followers --“Ho! the Watch'd hislateChieftain with exploringeye,


And told, in signs, repentant sympathy; Lest passion should return to reason's shoal. Held the moist shaddock to his parched -Brandy for heroes!” Burke could once

mouth, exclaim

Which felt exhaustion's deep and bitter No doubt a liquid path to epic famc;

drought. And such the new-born heroes found it here, But, soon observed, this guardian was And draind the draught with an applauding

withdrawn, cheer.

Nor further Mercy clouds Rebellion's dawn, *Hazza! for Otaheite!” was the cry; Then forward stepp'd the bold and froward How strange such shouts from sons of Mutiny!

boy The gentle island, and the genial soil, His Chief had cherish'd only to destroy,

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his cave;

And, pointing to the helpless prow beneath, We leave them to their fate, but not Exclaim'd, “Depart at once! delay is death!”

unknown Yet then, even then, his feelings ceased Nor unredrest! Revenge may have her own;

not all:

Roused discipline aloud proclaims their In that last moment could a word recal

cause, Remorse for the black deed as yet half done, And injured navies urge their broken laws. And, what hid from many, shew'd to one: Pursue we on his trad the mutineer, When Bligh, in stern reproach, demanded Whom distant vengeance had not taught where

to fear. Was now his grateful sense of former care? Wide o’er the wave-away! away! away! Where all his hopes to see his name aspire Once more his eyes shall hail the welcome And blazon Britain's thousand glories

bay; higher ?

Once more the happy shores without a law His feverish lips thus broke their gloomy Receive the outlaws whom they lately saw;


Nature, and Nature's Goddess-Woman-56 'Tis that! 'tis that! I am in Hell! in Hell!” No more he said ; but, urging to the bark To lands where, save their conscience, none His Chief, commits him to his fragile ark:

accuse; These the sole accents from his tongue that Where all partake the earth without dispute,


And bread itself is gather'd as a fruit; But volumes lurk'd below his fierce farewell. Where none contest the fields, the woods,

the streams :

The Goldless Age, where Gold disturbs no The arctic sun rose broad above the wave;

dreams, The breeze now sunk, now whisper'd from Inhabits or inhabited the shore,

Till Europe taught them better than before, As on the Æolian harp, his fitful wings Bestow'd her customs, and amended theirs, Now swell'd, now flutter'd o'er his ocean- But left her vices also to their heirs.


Away with this! behold them as they were, With slow, despairing oar, the abandon’a Do good with Nature, or with Nature err.


“Huzza! for Otaheite!” was the cry, Ploughs its drear progress to the scarce- As stately swept the gallant vessel by.

seen cliff,

The breeze springs up; the lately flapping Which lifts its peak a cloud above the main:

sail That boat and ship shall never meet again! Extends its arch before the growing gale; But 'tis not mine to tell their tale of grief, In swifter ripples stream aside the seas, Their constant peril and their scant relief; Which her bold bow flings off with dashing Their days of danger, and their nights of


Thus Argo plough'd the Euxine's virgin Their manly courage, even when deem'd

foam; in vain;

But those she wafted still look'd back to The sapping famine, rendering scarce a son

homeKnown to his mother in the skeleton; These spurn their country with their rebel The ills that lessen'd still their little store,

bark, And starved even Hunger till he wrung no And fly her as the raven fled the ark;


And yet they seek to nestle with the dove, The varying frowns and favours of the Deep, And tame their fiery spirits down to love. That now almost engulphs, then leaves to

creep With crazy oar and shatter'd strength along The tide, that yields reluctant to the strong; The incessant fever of that arid thirst Which welcomes, as a well, the clouds that burst

CANTO II. Above their naked bones, and feels delight In the cold drenching of the stormy night, How pleasant were the songs of Toobonai, And from the outspread canvas gladly wrings When summer's sun went down the coral bay! A drop to moisten Life's all-gasping springs; Come, let us to the islet's softest shade, The savage foe escaped, to seek again And hear the warbling birds! the damsels More hospitable shelter from the main;

said: The ghastly spectres which were doom'a The wood-dove from the forest depth shall at last

coo, To tell as true a tale of dangers past, Like voices of the gods from Bolotoo : As ever the dark annals of the deep We'll cull the flowers that grow above the Discloscd for man to dread or woman wcep.



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