Don Juan 05-106
Canto the Fifth
  
     CVI
 
And he advanced, though with but a bad grace,
     Though on more thorough-bred or fairer fingers
No lips e'er left their transitory trace;
     On such as these the lip too fondly lingers,
And for one kiss would fain imprint a brace,
     As you will see, if she you love shall bring hers
In contact; and sometimes even a fair stranger's
An almost twelvemonth's constancy endangers.

   
Don Juan 05-107
Canto the Fifth
  
     CVII

The lady eyed him o'er and o'er, and bade
     Baba retire, which he obey'd in style,
As if well used to the retreating trade;
     And taking hints in good part all the while,
He whisper'd Juan not to be afraid,
     And looking on him with a sort of smile,
Took leave, with such a face of satisfaction
As good men wear who have done a virtuous action.

  
Don Juan 05-108
Canto the Fifth
  
     CVIII
 
When he was gone, there was a sudden change:
     I know not what might be the lady's thought,
But o'er her bright brow flash'd a tumult strange,
     And into her dear cheek the blood was brought,
Blood-red as sunset summer clouds which range
     The verge of Heaven; and in her large eyes wrought,
A mixture of sensations might be scann'd,
Of half voluptuousness and half command.

  
Don Juan 05-109
Canto the Fifth
  
     CIX
 
Her form had all the softness of her sex,
     Her features all the sweetness of the devil,
When he put on the cherub to perplex
     Eve, and paved (God knows how) the road to evil;
The sun himself was scarce more free from specks
     Than she from aught at which the eye could cavil;
Yet, somehow, there was something somewhere wanting,
As if she rather order'd than was granting.

  
Don Juan 05-110
Canto the Fifth
  
     CX
 
Something imperial, or imperious, threw
     A chain o'er all she did; that is, a chain
Was thrown as 't were about the neck of you, --
     And rapture's self will seem almost a pain
With aught which looks like despotism in view:
     Our souls at least are free, and 't is in vain
We would against them make the flesh obey --
The spirit in the end will have its way.

George Gordon Byron, Lord Byron (1788-1824) 
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