CCII. Haidee was Nature's bride, and knew not this; Haidee was Passion's child, born where the sun Who was her chosen: what was said or done CCIII. And oh! that quickening of the heart, that beat! Is in its cause as its effect so sweet, That Wisdom, ever on the watch to rob Joy of its alchymy, and to repeat Fine truths; even Conscience, too, has a tough job To make us understand each good old maxim, So good-I wonder Castlereagh don't tax 'em. CCIV. And now 'twas done on the lone shore were plighted Their hearts; the stars, their nuptial torches, shed Beauty upon the beautiful they lighted: Ocean their witness, and the cave their bed, By their own feelings hallow'd and united, Their priest was Solitude, and they were wed: And they were happy, for to their young eyes Each was an angel, and earth paradise. CCV. Oh Love! of whom great Cæsar was the suitor, Horace, Catullus, scholars, Ovid tutor, Sappho the sage blue-stocking, in whose grave All those may leap who rather would be neuter(Leucadia's rock still overlooks the wave) Oh Love! thou art the very god of evil, CCVI. Thou mak❜st the chaste connubial state precarious, Have much employ'd the muse of history's pen; Their lives and fortunes were extremely various, Such worthies Time will never see again; Yet to these four in three things the same luck holds, They all were heroes, conquerors, and cuckolds. CCVII. Thou mak'st philosophers; there's Epicurus Who to immoral courses would allure us By theories quite practicable too; If only from the devil they would insure us, How pleasant were the maxim, (not quite new) "Eat, drink, and love, what can the rest avail us ?" So said the royal sage Sardanapalus. CCVIII. But Juan! had he quite forgotten Julia? Perplexing question; but, no doubt, the moon Does these things for us, and whenever newly a Palpitation rises, 'tis her boon, Else how the devil is it that fresh features Have such a charm for us poor human creatures? CCIX. I hate inconstancy-I loathe, detest, CCX. But soon Philosophy came to my aid, 66 And whisper'd "think of every sacred tie!” "I will, my dear Philosophy!" I said, "But then her teeth, and then, Oh heaven! her eye! "I'll just inquire if she be wife or maid, "Or neither-out of curiosity." "Stop!" cried Philosophy, with air so Grecian, (Though she was masqued then as a fair Venetian.) CCXI. "Stop!" so I stopp'd.-But to return: that which Is but a heightening of the "beau ideal." |