from Canto X

51

The animals aforesaid occupied
    Their station: there were valets, secretaries,
In other vehicles; but at his side
    Sat little Leila, who survived the parries
He made ‘gainst Cossaque sabres, in the wide
     Slaughter of Ismail. Though my wild Muse varies
Her note, she don’t forget the infant girl
Whom he preserved—a pure and living pearl.

52

Poor little thing! She was as fair as docile,
     And with that gentle, serious character,
As rare in living beings as a fossile
    Man, ‘midst thy mouldy Mammoths, “grand Cuvier!”
Ill fitted with her ignorance to jostle
    With this o’erwhelming world, where all must err:
But she was yet but ten years old, and therefore
Was tranquil, though she knew not why or wherefore.

53

Don Juan loved her, and she loved him, as
     Nor brother, father, sister, daughter love.
I cannot tell exactly what it was;
     He was not yet quite old enough to prove
Parental feelings, and the other class,
     Called brotherly affection could not move
His bosom,—for he never had a sister:
Ah! if he had, how much he would have missed her!

54

And still less was it sensual; for besides
    That he was not an ancient debauchee,
(Who like sour fruit, to stir their veins’ salt tides,
     As Acids rouse a dormant Alkali)
Although (‘twill happen as our planet guides)
    His youth was not the chastest that might be,
There was the purest platonism at bottom
Of all his feelings—only he forgot ‘em.

55

Just now there was no peril of temptation;
     He loved the infant orphan he had saved,
As Patriots (now and then) may love a nation;
     His pride too felt that she was not enslaved,
Owing to him;—as also her salvation
     Through his means and the church’s might be paved.
But one thing’s odd, which here must be inserted,
The little Turk refused to be converted.

56

‘Twas strange enough she should retain the impression
    Thro’ such a scene of change, and dread, and slaughter;
But though three bishops told her the transgression,
     She showed a great dislike to holy water:
She also had no passion for confession;
     Perhaps she had nothing to confess:—no matter;
Whate’er the cause, the church made little of it—
She still held out that Mahomet was a prophet.

57

In fact, the only Christian she could bear
     Was Juan, whom she seemed to have selected
In place of what her home and friends once were.
     He naturally loved what he protected:
And thus they formed a rather curious pair;
     A guardian green in years, a ward connected
In neither clime, time, blood, with her defender;
And yet this want of ties made their’s more tender.

58

They journeyed on through Poland and through Warsaw,
     Famous for mines of salt and yokes of iron:
Through Courland also, which that famous farce saw
     Which gave her dukes the graceless name of “Biron.”
‘Tis the same landscape which the modern Mars saw
    Who marched to Moscow, led by Fame, the Syren!
To lose by one month’s frost some twenty years
Of conquest, and his guard of grenadiers.

59

Let not this seem an anti-climax:—”Oh!
     My Guard! my Old Guard!” exclaimed that God of Clay.—
Think of the Thunderer’s falling down below
     Carotid-artery-cutting Castlereagh!—
Alas! that glory should be chilled by snow!
     But should we wish to warm us on our way
Through Poland, there is Kosciusko’s name
Might scatter fire through ice, like Hecla’s flame.

60

From Poland they came on through Prussia Proper,
    And Koningsberg the capital, whose vaunt,
Besides some veins of iron, lead, or copper,
     Has lately been the great Professor Kant.
Juan, who cared not a tobacco-stopper
     About philosophy, pursued his jaunt
To Germany, whose somewhat tardy millions
Have princes who spur more than their postillions.