LXXXVIII. The bayonet pierces and the sabre cleaves, Shorn of its best and loveliest, and left bare; It is an awful topic-but 't is not My cue for any time to be terrific : For chequer'd as it seems our human lot With good, and bad, and worse, alike prolific Of melancholy merriment, to quote Too much of one sort would be soporific; Without, or with, offence to friends or foes, I sketch your world exactly as it goes. XCIV. One's hip he slash'd, and split the other's shoulder, XCV. And she was chill as they, and on her face A slender streak of blood announced how near For the same blow which laid her mother here XCVI. Just at this instant, while their eyes were fix'd With infant terrors, glared as from a trance, A pure, transparent, pale, yet radiant face, Like to a lighted alabaster vase ; "The Seraskier is knock'd upon the head, But the stone bastion still remains, wherein The old pacha sits among some hundreds dead, Smoking his pipe quite calmly, 'mid the din Of our artillery and his own; 't is said Our kill'd already piled up to the chin, Lie round the battery; but still it batters, And grape in volleys, like a vineyard, scatters. XCIX. "Then up with me!"-But Juan answer'd, "Look Of safety, where she less may shriek and grieve, A glance around-and shrugg'd—and twitch'd his sleeve And black silk neckcloth-and replied, "You're right; Poor thing! what's to be done? I'm puzzled quite." CX. That drinks and still is dry. At last they peralds- Had been neglected, ill-used, and what not, CXI. The eldest was a true and tameless Tartar, Who only saw the black-eyed girls in green, CXII. And what they pleased to do with the young Khan CXIII. Your Houris also have a natural pleasure To wish him back a bachelor now and then. Thus the young Khan, with Houris in his sight, In short, howe'er our better faith derides, These black-eyed virgins make the Moslems fight, As though there were one heaven and none besides Whereas, if all be true we hear of heaven And hell, there must at least be six or seven. CXV. So fully flash'd the phantom on his eyes, That when the very lance was in his heart, He shouted, "Allah!" and saw Paradise With all its veil of mystery drawn apart, And bright eternity without disguise On his soul, like a ceaseless sunrise, dart,With prophets, houris, angels, saints, descried In one voluptuous blaze,-and then he died: CXVI. But, with a heavenly raj ure on his face, The good old Khan-who long had ceased to see The earth, which he became like a fell'd tree, CXVII. The soldiers, who beheld him drop his point, It is a pleasant voyage perhaps to float, Is apt to tire: a calm and shallow station XIX. "But heaven," as Cassio says, "is above all.— No more of this then,-let us pray!" We have Souls to save, since Eve's slip and Adam's fall, Which tumbled all mankind into the grave, Besides fish, beasts, and birds. "The sparrow's fall Is special providence," though how it gave Offence, we know not; probably it perch'd Upon the tree which Eve so fondly search'd ΧΧ. Oh, ye immortal gods! what is theogony? Oh, thou too mortal man! what is philanthropy? Oh, world, which was and is! what is cosmogony ? Some people have accused me of misanthropy; And yet I know no more than the mahogany That forms this desk, of what they mean:-Lykan I comprehend; for, without transformation, Men become wolves on any slight occasion. XXI. But I, the mildest, meekest of mankind, Like Moses, or Melancthon, who have ne'er Done any thing exceedingly unkind,— And (though I could not now and then forbear Following the bent of body or of mind) Have always had a tendency to spare,Why do they call me misanthrope? Because They hate me, not I them :-And nere we'll pause. XXII. "T is time we should proceed with our good poem For I maintain that it is really good, Not only in the body, but the proem, However little both are understood And till she doth, I fain must be content XXIII. Our hero (and, I trust, kind reader! yours)- Of the immortal Peter's polish'd boors, Who still have shown themselves more brave than witty, I know its mighty empire now allures Much flattery-even Voltai.e's, and that's a pity. For me, I deem an absolute autocrat Not a barbarian, but much worse than that. |