from Canto V

81

“You, sir,” said Baba, nodding to the one,
     “Will please to accompany those gentlemen
To supper; but you, worthy christian nun,
     Will follow me; no trifling, sir; for when
I say a thing, it must at once be done.
     What fear you? think you this a lion’s den?
Why, ‘tis a palace; where the truly wise
Anticipate the Prophet’s paradise.

82

“You fool! I tell you no one means you harm.”
     “So much the better,” Juan said, “for them;
Else they shall feel the weight of this my arm,
     Which is not quite so light as you may deem.
I yield thus far; but soon will break the charm
     If any take me for that which I seem:
So that I trust for every body’s sake,
That this disguise may lead to no mistake.”

83

“Blockhead! come on, and see,” quoth Baba; while
     Don Juan, turning to his comrade, who
Though somewhat grieved, could scarce forbear a smile
     Upon the metamorphosis in view,
“Farewell!” they mutually exclaimed: “this soil
     Seems fertile in adventures strange and new;
One’s turned half mussulman, and one a maid,
By this old black enchanter’s unsought aid.

84

“Farewell!” said Juan; “should we meet no more,
     I wish you a good appetite.”—”Farewell!”
Replied the other; “though it grieves me sore;
     When we next meet, we’ll have a tale to tell:
We needs must follow when Fate puts from shore.
     Keep your good name; though Eve herself once fell.”
“Nay,” quoth the maid, “the Sultan’s self shan’t carry me,
Unless his highness promises to marry me.”

85

And thus they parted, each by separate doors;
     Baba led Juan onward room by room
Through glittering galleries, and o’er marble floors,
     Till a gigantic portal through the gloom,
Haughty and huge, along the distance lowers;
     And wafted far arose a rich perfume:
It seemed as though they came upon a shrine,
For all was vast, still, fragrant, and divine.

86

The giant door was broad, and bright, and high,
     Of gilded bronze, and carved in curious guise;
Warriors thereon were battling furiously;
     Here stalks the victor, there the vanquished lies;
There captives led in triumph droop the eye,
     And in perspective many a squadron flies:
It seems the work of times before the line
Of Rome transplanted fell with Constantine.

87

This massy portal stood at the wide close
     Of a huge hall, and on its either side
Two little dwarfs, the least you could suppose,
    Were sate, like ugly imps, as if allied
In mockery to the enormous gate which rose
    O’er them in almost pyramidic pride:
The gate so splendid was in all its features,
You never thought about those little creatures,

88

Until you nearly trod on them, and then
     You started back in horror to survey
The wond’rous hideousness of those small men,
     Whose colour was not black, nor white, nor gray,
But an extraneous mixture, which no pen
     Can trace, although perhaps the pencil may;
They were misshapen pigmies, deaf and dumb—
Monsters, who cost a no less monstrous sum.

89

Their duty was—for they were strong, and though
     They looked so little, did strong things at times—
To ope this door, which they could really do,
     The hinges being as smooth as Rogers’ rhymes;
And now and then with tough strings of the bow,
     As is the custom of those eastern climes,
To give some rebel Pacha a cravat;
For mutes are generally used for that.

90

They spoke by signs—that is, not spoke at all;
    And looking like two incubi, they glared
As Baba with his fingers made them fall
     To heaving back the portal folds: it scared
Juan a moment, as this pair so small,
     With shrinking serpent optics on him stared;
It was as if their little looks could poison
Or fascinate whome’er they fixed their eyes on.