CLXIV.

"Tis pleasing to be school'd in a strange tongue By female lips and eyes—that is, I mean, When both the teacher and the taught are young,

As was the case, at least, where I have been; They smile so when one's right, and when one's wrong They smile still more, and then there intervene Pressure of hands, perhaps even a chaste kiss:I learn'd the little that I know by this:

CLXV.

That is some words of Spanish, Turk, and Greek,
Italian not at all, having no teachers;
Much English I cannot pretend to speak,
Learning that language chiefly from its preachers
Barrow, South, Tillotson, whom every week
I study, also Blair, the highest reachers

Of eloquence in piety and prose

I hate your poets, so read none of those.

CLXVI.

As for the ladies, I have nought to say,

A wanderer from the British world of fashion,' Where I, like other" dogs, have had my day," Like other men too, may have had my passionBut that, like other things, has pass'd away;

And all her fools whom I could lay the lash on, Foes, friends, men, women, now are nought to me, But dreams of what has been, no more to be.

CLXVII.

Return we to Don Juan. He begun

To hear new words, and to repeat them: but Some feelings, universal as the sun,

Were such as could not in his breast be shut
More than within the bosom of a nun;

He was in love,-as you would be, no doubt,
With a young benefactress-so was she,
Just in the the way we very often see.

CLXVIII.

And every day by daybreak-rather early
For Juan, who was somewhat fond of rest-
She came into the cave, but it was merely

To see her bird reposing in his nest;

And she would softly stir his locks so curly,

Without disturbing her yet slumbering guest, Breathing all gently o'er his cheek and mouth, As o'er a bed of roses the sweet south.

CLXIX.

And every morn his colour freshlier came,
And every day helpt on his convalescence;
'Twas well, because health in the human frame
Is pleasant, besides being true love's essence,
For health and idleness to passion's flame

Are oil and gunpowder; and some good lessons
Are also learnt from Ceres and from Bacchus,
Without whom Venus will not long attack us.

CLXX.

While Venus fills the heart (without heart really
Love, thou good always, is not quite so good)
Ceres presents a plate of vermicelli,—

For love must be sustain'd like flesh and blood,While Bacchus pours out wine, or hands a jelly; Eggs, oysters too, are amatory food;

But who is their purveyor from above

Heaven knows, it may be Neptune, Pan o r Jove.

CLXXI.

When Juan woke he found some good things ready,

A bath, a breakfast, and the finest eyes
That ever made a youthful heart less steady,
Besides her maid's, as pretty for their size;
But I have spoken of all this already-
And repetition's tiresome and unwise,-
Well-Juan, after bathing in the sea,
Came always back to coffee and Haidee.

CLXXII.

Both were so young, and one so innocent,
That bathing pass'd for nothing; Juan seem'd
To her, as 'twere, the kind of being sent,

Of whom these two years she had nightly dream'd,
A something to be loved, a creature meant
To be her happiness, and whom she deem'd
To render happy; all who joy would win
Must share it,-Happiness was born a twin.

CLXXIII.

It was such pleasure to behold him, such
Enlargement of existence to partake
Nature with him, to thrill beneath his touch,

To watch him slumbering and to see him wake: To live with him for ever were too much;

But then the thought of parting made her quake; He was her own, her ocean-treasure, cast Like a rich wreck-her first love, and her last.

CLXXIV.

And thus a moon roll'd on, and fair Haidee

Paid daily visits to her boy, and took
Such plentiful precautions, that still he

Remain'd unknown within his craggy nook;
At last her father's prows put out to sea,
For certain merchantmen upon the look,
Not as of yore to carry off an Io,

But three Ragusan vessels, bound for Scio.

CLXXV.

Then came her freedom, for she had no mother,
So that, her father being at sea, she was
Free as a married woman, or such other
Female, as where she likes may freely pass,
Without even the encumbrance of a brother,
The freest she that ever gazed on glass:
I speak of christian lands in this comparison,
Where wives, at least, are seldom kept in garrison.

CLXXVI.

Now she prolong'd her visits and her talk,
(For they must talk,) and he had learnt to say
So much as to propose to take a walk,—

For little had he wander'd since the day

On which, like a young flower snapp'd from the stalk,
Drooping and dewy on the beach he lay,-

And thus they walk'd out in the afternoon,
And saw the sun set opposite the moon.

CLXXVII.

It was a wild and breaker-beaten coast,

With cliffs above, and a broad sandy shore, Guarded by shoals and rocks as by an host,

With here and there a creek, whose aspect wore A better welcome to the tempest-tost;

And rarely ceased the haughty billow's roar, Save on the dead long summer days, which make The outstretch'd ocean glitter like a lake.

CLXXVIII.

And the small ripple spilt upon the beach

Scarcely o'erpass'd the cream of your champaigne, When o'er the brim the sparkling bumpers reach, That spring-dew of the spirit! the heart's rain! Few things surpass old wine; and they may preach Who please, the more because they preach in vain,— Let us have wine and woman, mirth and laughter, Sermons and soda-water the day after.

CLXXIX.

Man being reasonable, must get drunk;
The best of life is but intoxication;
Glory, the grape, love, gold, in these are sunk
The hopes of all men, and of every nation;
Without their sap, how branchless were the trunk
Of life's strange tree, so fruitful on occasion;
But to return,-Get very drunk and when
You wake with headach, you shall see what then.

CLXXX.

Ring for your valet-bid him quickly bring
Some hock and soda-water, then you'll know
A pleasure worthy Xerxes the great king;
For not the blest sherbet, sublimed with snow,
Nor the first sparkle of the desert spring,
Nor Burgundy in all its sunset glow,
After long travel, ennui, love or slaughter,
Vie with that draught of hock and soda-water.

CLXXXI.

The coast-I think it was the coast that I

Was just describing-Yes, it was the coastLay at this period quiet as the sky,

The sands untumbled, the blue waves untost,