from Canto VI

91

He did not think much on the matter, nor
     Indeed on any other: as a man
He liked to have a handsome paramour
     At hand, as one may like to have a fan,
And therefore of Circassians had good store,
     As an amusement after the Divan;
Though an unusual fit of love, or duty,
Had made him lately bask in his bride’s beauty.

92

And now he rose; and after due ablutions
     Exacted by the customs of the East,
And prayers and other pious evolutions,
     He drank six cups of coffee at the least,
And then withdrew to hear about the Russians,
     Whose victories had recently increased
In Catherine’s reign, whom glory still adores
As greatest of all sovereigns and w—s.

93

But oh, thou grand legitimate Alexander!
     Her son’s son, let not this last phrase offend
Thine ear, if it should reach,—and now rhymes wander
    Almost as far as Petersburgh, and lend
A dreadful impulse to each loud meander
     Of murmuring Liberty’s wide waves, which blend
Their roar even with the Baltic’s—so you be
Your father’s son, ‘tis quite enough for me.

94

To call men love-begotten, or proclaim
    Their mothers as the antipodes of Timon,
That hater of mankind, would be a shame,
     A libel, or whate’er you please to rhyme on:
But people’s ancestors are history’s game;
     And if one lady’s slip could leave a crime on
All generations, I should like to know
What pedigree the best would have to show?

95

Had Catherine and the Sultan understood
     Their own true interests, which kings rarely know,
Until ‘tis taught by lessons rather rude,
     There was a way to end their strife, although
Perhaps precarious, had they but thought good,
    Without the aid of Prince or Plenipo:
She to dismiss her guards and he his harem,
And for their other matters, meet and share ‘em.

96

But as it was, his Highness had to hold
     His daily council upon ways and means,
How to encounter with this martial scold,
    This modern Amazon and Queen of Queans;
And the perplexity could not be told
     Of all the Pillars of the state, which leans
Sometimes a little heavy on the backs
Of those who cannot lay on a new tax.

97

Meantime Gulbeyaz, when her king was gone,
     Retired into her boudoir, a sweet place
For love or breakfast; private, pleasing, lone,
     And rich with all contrivances which grace
Those gay recesses:—many a precious stone
     Sparkled along its roof, and many a vase
Of porcelain held in the fettered flowers,
Those captive soothers of a captive’s hours.

98

Mother of pearl, and porphyry, and marble,
     Vied with each other on this costly spot;
And singing birds without were heard to warble;
    And the stained glass which lighted this fair grot
Varied each ray;—but all descriptions garble
     The true effect, and so we had better not
Be too minute; an outline is the best,
A lively reader’s fancy does the rest.

99

And here she summoned Baba, and required
     Don Juan at his hands, and information
Of what had past since all the slaves retired,
     And whether he had occupied their station;
If matters had been managed as desired,
     And his disguise with due consideration
Kept up; and above all, the where and how
He had passed the night, was what she wished to know.

100

Baba, with some embarrassment, replied
     To this long catechism of questions asked
More easily than answered,—that he had tried
     His best to obey in what he had been tasked;
But there seemed something that he wished to hide,
    Which hesitation more betrayed than masqued;—
He scratched his ear, the infallible resource
To which embarrassed people have recourse.