Don Juan 05-141 ~ 145
 
Don Juan 05-141
Canto the Fifth
 
     CXLI
 
Juan was moved; he had made up his mind
     To be impaled, or quarter'd as a dish
For dogs, or to be slain with pangs refined,
     Or thrown to lions, or made baits for fish,
And thus heroically stood resign'd,
     Rather than sin -- except to his own wish:
But all his great preparatives for dying
Dissolved like snow before a woman crying.
 
 
Don Juan 05-142
Canto the Fifth
 
     CXLII

As through his palms Bob Acres' valour oozed,
     So Juan's virtue ebb'd, I know not how;
And first he wonder'd why he had refused;
     And then, if matters could be made up now;
And next his savage virtue he accused,
     Just as a friar may accuse his vow,
Or as a dame repents her of her oath,
Which mostly ends in some small breach of both.
 
 
Don Juan 05-143
Canto the Fifth
 
     CXLIII

So he began to stammer some excuses;
     But words are not enough in such a matter,
Although you borrow'd all that e'er the muses
     Have sung, or even a Dandy's dandiest chatter,
Or all the figures Castlereagh abuses;
     Just as a languid smile began to flatter
His peace was making, but before he ventured
Further, old Baba rather briskly enter'd.
 
 
Don Juan 05-144
Canto the Fifth
 
     CXLIV

"Bride of the Sun! and Sister of the Moon!"
     ('T was thus he spake) "and Empress of the Earth!
Whose frown would put the spheres all out of tune,
     Whose smile makes all the planets dance with mirth,
Your slave brings tidings -- he hopes not too soon --
     Which your sublime attention may be worth:
The Sun himself has sent me like a ray,
To hint that he is coming up this way."
 
 
Don Juan 05-145
Canto the Fifth
 
     CXLV

"Is it," exclaim'd Gulbeyaz, "as you say?
     I wish to heaven he would not shine till morning!
But bid my women form the milky way.
     Hence, my old comet! give the stars due warning --
And, Christian! mingle with them as you may,
     And as you'd have me pardon your past scorning --"
Here they were interrupted by a humming
Sound, and then by a cry, "The Sultan's coming!"

George Gordon Byron, Lord Byron (1788-1824)
ByronLong