from Canto XIII

11

Cervantes smiled Spain’s Chivalry away;
     A single laugh demolished the right arm
Of his own country;—seldom since that day
     Has Spain had heroes. While Romance could charm,
The world gave ground before her bright array;
     And therefore have his volumes done such harm,
That all their glory, as a composition,
Was dearly purchased by his land’s perdition.

12

I’m “at my old Lunes”—digression, and forget
     The Lady Adeline Amundeville;
The fair most fatal Juan ever met,
     Although she was not evil, nor meant ill;
But Destiny and Passion spread the net,
     (Fate is a good excuse for our own will)
And caught them;—what do they not catch, methinks?
But I’m not Oedipus, and life’s a Sphinx.

13

I tell the tale as it is told, nor dare
    To venture a solution: “Davus sum!“
And now I will proceed upon the pair.
     Sweet Adeline, amidst the gay world’s hum,
Was the Queen-Bee, the glass of all that’s fair;
     Whose charms made all men speak, and women dumb.
The last’s a miracle, and such was reckoned,
And since that time there has not been a second.

14

Chaste was she, to detraction’s desperation,
     And wedded unto one she had loved well;
A man known in the councils of the nation,
    Cool, and quite English; imperturbable,
Though apt to act with fire upon occasion;
     Proud of himself and her, the world could tell
Nought against either, and both seemed secure—
She in her virtue, he in his hauteur.

15

It chanced some diplomatical relations,
     Arising out of business, often brought
Himself and Juan in their mutual stations
     Into close contact. Though reserved, nor caught
By specious seeming, Juan’s youth, and patience,
     And talent, on his haughty spirit wrought,
And formed a basis of esteem, which ends
In making men what Courtesy calls friends.

16

And thus Lord Henry, who was cautious as
     Reserve and pride could make him, and full slow
In judging men—when once his judgment was
     Determined, right or wrong, on friend or foe,
Had all the pertinacity pride has,
     Which knows no ebb to its imperious flow,
And loves or hates, disdaining to be guided,
Because its own good pleasure hath decided.

17

His friendships therefore, and no less aversions,
     Though oft well founded, which confirmed but more
His prepossessions, like the laws of Persians
     And Medes, would ne’er revoke what went before.
His feelings had not those strange fits, like tertians,
    Of common likings, which make some deplore
What they should laugh at—the mere ague still
Of Men’s regard, the fever or the chill.

18

”’Tis not in mortals to command success;
    But do you more, Sempronius—don’t deserve it”;
And take my word, you won’t have any less:
     Be wary, watch the time, and always serve it;
Give gently way, when there’s too great a press;
     And for your conscience, only learn to nerve it,—
For, like a racer or a boxer training,
‘Twill make, if proved, vast efforts without paining.

19

Lord Henry also liked to be superior,
     As most men do, the little or the great;
The very lowest find out an inferior,
     At least they think so, to exert their state
Upon: for there are very few things wearier
     Than solitary Pride’s oppressive weight,
Which mortals generously would divide,
By bidding others carry while they ride.

20

In birth, in rank, in fortune likewise equal,
     O’er Juan he could no distinction claim;
In years he had the advantage of time’s sequel;
     And, as he thought, in country much the same—
Because bold Britons have a tongue and free quill,
     At which all modern nations vainly aim;
And the Lord Henry was a great debater,
So that few members kept the House up later.