from Canto III

31

And here, assembled cross-legg’d round their trays,
     Small social parties just begun to dine;
Pilaus and meats of all sorts met the gaze,
    And flasks of Samian and of Chian wine,
And sherbet cooling in the porous vase;
     Above them their dessert grew on its vine,
The orange and pomegranate nodding o’er,
Dropp’d in their laps, scarce pluck’d, their mellow store.

32

A band of children, round a snow-white ram,
    There wreathe his venerable horns with flowers;
While peaceful as if still an unwean’d lamb,
    The patriarch of the flock all gently cowers
His sober head, majestically tame,
     Or eats from out the palm, or playful lowers
His brow, as if in act to butt, and then
Yielding to their small hands, draws back again.

33

Their classical profiles, and glittering dresses,
    Their large black eyes, and soft seraphic cheeks,
Crimson as cleft pomegranates, their long tresses,
    The gesture which enchants, the eye that speaks,
The innocence which happy childhood blesses,
     Made quite a picture of these little Greeks;
So that the philosophical beholder
Sigh’d for their sakes—that they should e’er grow older.

34

Afar, a dwarf buffoon stood telling tales
     To a sedate grey circle of old smokers
Of secret treasures found in hidden vales,
     Of wonderful replies from Arab jokers,
Of charms to make good gold, and cure bad ails,
    Of rocks bewitch’d that open to the knockers,
Of magic ladies who, by one sole act,
Transform’d their lords to beasts, (but that’s a fact).

35

Here was no lack of innocent diversion
     For the imagination or the senses,
Song, dance, wine, music, stories from the Persian,
     All pretty pastimes in which no offence is;
But Lambro saw all these things with aversion,
     Perceiving in his absence such expenses,
Dreading that climax of all human ills,
The inflammation of his weekly bills.

36

Ah! what is man? what perils still environ
     The happiest mortals even after dinner—
A day of gold from out an age of iron
     Is all that life allows the luckiest sinner;
Pleasure (whene’er she sings, at least) ’s a siren,
     That lures to flay alive the young beginner;
Lambro’s reception at his people’s banquet
Was such as fire accords to a wet blanket.

37

He—being a man who seldom used a word
     Too much, and wishing gladly to surprise
(In general he surprised men with the sword)
     His daughter—had not sent before to advise
Of his arrival, so that no one stirred;
     And long he paused to re-assure his eyes,
In fact much more astonish’d than delighted,
To find so much good company invited.

38

He did not know (Alas! how men will lie)
     That a report (especially the Greeks)
Avouch’d his death (such people never die),
     And put his house in mourning several weeks,
But now their eyes and also lips were dry;
     The bloom too had return’d to Haide’s cheeks.
Her tears too being return’d into their fount,
She now kept house upon her own account.

39

Hence all this rice, meat, dancing, wine, and fiddling,
     Which turn’d the isle into a place of pleasure;
The servants all were getting drunk or idling,
     A life which made them happy beyond measure.
Her father’s hospitality seem’d middling,
     Compared with what Haide did with his treasure;
‘Twas wonderful how things went on improving,
While she had not one hour to spare from loving.

40

Perhaps you think in stumbling on this feast
     He flew into a passion, and in fact
There was no mighty reason to be pleased;
    Perhaps you prophesy some sudden act,
The whip, the rack, or dungeon at the least,
     To teach his people to be more exact,
And that, proceeding at a very high rate,
He show’d the royal penchants of a pirate.