AH!- What should follow slips from my reflection;
Whatever follows ne'ertheless may be As a-propos of hope or retrospection, As though the lurking thought had follow'd free.
All present life is but an interjection, An 'Oh!' or 'Ah!' of joy or misery, Or a 'Ha! ha!' or 'Bah!'- a yawn, or 'Pooh!'
Of which perhaps the latter is most true.
But, more or less, the whole 's a syncope Or a singultus- emblems of emotion, The grand antithesis to great ennui, Wherewith we break our bubbles on the ocean,-That watery outline of eternity, Or miniature at least, as is my notion, Which ministers unto the soul's delight, In seeing matters which are out of sight.
But all are better than the sigh supprest, Corroding in the cavern of the heart, Making the countenance a masque of rest, And turning human nature to an art.
Few men dare show their thoughts of worst or best;
Dissimulation always sets apart A corner for herself; and therefore fiction Is that which passes with least contradiction.
Ah! who can tell? Or rather, who can not Remember, without telling, passion's errors?
The drainer of oblivion, even the sot, Hath got blue devils for his morning mirrors:
What though on Lethe's stream he seem to float, He cannot sink his tremors or his terrors;
The ruby glass that shakes within his hand Leaves a sad sediment of Time's worst sand.
And as for love- O love!- We will proceed.
The Lady Adeline Amundeville, A pretty name as one would wish to read, Must perch harmonious on my tuneful quill.
There 's music in the sighing of a reed;
There 's music in the gushing of a rill;
There 's music in all things, if men had ears:
Their earth is but an echo of the spheres.
The Lady Adeline, right honourable;
And honour'd, ran a risk of growing less so;
For few of the soft sex are very stable In their resolves- alas! that I should say so!
They differ as wine differs from its label, When once decanted;- I presume to guess so, But will not swear: yet both upon occasion, Till old, may undergo adulteration.
But Adeline was of the purest vintage, The unmingled essence of the grape; and yet Bright as a new Napoleon from its mintage, Or glorious as a diamond richly set;
A page where Time should hesitate to print age, And for which Nature might forego her debt-Sole creditor whose process doth involve in 't The luck of finding every body solvent.
O Death! thou dunnest of all duns! thou daily Knockest at doors, at first with modest tap, Like a meek tradesman when, approaching palely, Some splendid debtor he would take by sap:
But oft denied, as patience 'gins to fail, he Advances with exasperated rap, And (if let in) insists, in terms unhandsome, On ready money, or 'a draft on Ransom.'
Whate'er thou takest, spare a while poor Beauty!
She is so rare, and thou hast so much prey.
What though she now and then may slip from duty, The more 's the reason why you ought to stay.
Gaunt Gourmand! with whole nations for your booty, You should be civil in a modest way:
Suppress, then, some slight feminine diseases, And take as many heroes as Heaven pleases.
Fair Adeline, the more ingenuous Where she was interested (as was said), Because she was not apt, like some of us, To like too readily, or too high bred To show it (points we need not now discuss)-Would give up artlessly both heart and head Unto such feelings as seem'd innocent, For objects worthy of the sentiment.
Some parts of Juan's history, which Rumour, That live gazette, had scatter'd to disfigure, She had heard; but women hear with more good humour Such aberrations than we men of rigour:
Besides, his conduct, since in England, grew more Strict, and his mind assumed a manlier vigour;
Because he had, like Alcibiades, The art of living in all climes with ease.
His manner was perhaps the more seductive, Because he ne'er seem'd anxious to seduce;
Nothing affected, studied, or constructive Of coxcombry or conquest: no abuse Of his attractions marr'd the fair perspective, To indicate a Cupidon broke loose, And seem to say, 'Resist us if you can'-Which makes a dandy while it spoils a man.
They are wrong- that 's not the way to set about it;
As, if they told the truth, could well be shown.
But, right or wrong, Don Juan was without it;
In fact, his manner was his own alone;
Sincere he was- at least you could not doubt it, In listening merely to his voice's tone.
The devil hath not in all his quiver's choice An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice.
By nature soft, his whole address held off Suspicion: though not timid, his regard Was such as rather seem'd to keep aloof, To shield himself than put you on your guard:
Perhaps 't was hardly quite assured enough, But modesty 's at times its own reward, Like virtue; and the absence of pretension Will go much farther than there 's need to mention.
Serene, accomplish'd, cheerful but not loud;
Insinuating without insinuation;
Observant of the foibles of the crowd, Yet ne'er betraying this in conversation;
Proud with the proud, yet courteously proud, So as to make them feel he knew his station And theirs:- without a struggle for priority, He neither brook'd nor claim'd superiority.
That is, with men: with women he was what They pleased to make or take him for; and their Imagination 's quite enough for that:
So that the outline 's tolerably fair, They fill the canvas up- and 'verbum sat.'
If once their phantasies be brought to bear Upon an object, whether sad or playful, They can transfigure brighter than a Raphael.
Adeline, no deep judge of character, Was apt to add a colouring from her own:
'T is thus the good will amiably err, And eke the wise, as has been often shown.
Experience is the chief philosopher, But saddest when his science is well known:
And persecuted sages teach the schools Their folly in forgetting there are fools.
Was it not so, great Locke? and greater Bacon?
Great Socrates? And thou, Diviner still, Whose lot it is by man to be mistaken, And thy pure creed made sanction of all ill?
