from Canto XV

11

Some parts of Juan’s history, which Rumour,
     That live Gazette, had scatter’d to disfigure,
She had heard; but women hear with more good humour
     Such aberrations than we men of rigour.
Besides, his conduct, since in England, grew more
    Strict, and his mind assumed a manlier vigour;
Because he had, like Alcibiades,
The art of living in all climes with ease.

12

His manner was perhaps the more seductive,
     Because he ne’er seem’d anxious to seduce;
Nothing affected, studied, or constructive
    Of coxcombry or conquest: no abuse
Of his attractions marr’d the fair perspective,
    To indicate a Cupidon broke loose,
And seem to say, “resist us if you can”—
Which makes a dandy while it spoils a man.

13

They are wrong—that’s not the way to set about it;
     As, if they told the truth, could well be shown.
But right or wrong, Don Juan was without it;
     In fact, his manner was his own alone:
Sincere he was—at least you could not doubt it,
     In listening merely to his voice’s tone.
The Devil hath not in all his quiver’s choice
An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice.

14

By Nature soft, his whole address held off
     Suspicion: though not timid, his regard
Was such as rather seem’d to keep aloof,
     To shield himself, than put you on your guard:
Perhaps ‘twas hardly quite assured enough,
     But Modesty’s at times its own reward,
Like Virtue; and the absence of pretension
Will go much further than there’s need to mention.

15

Serene, accomplish’d, cheerful but not loud;
     Insinuating without insinuation;
Observant of the foibles of the crowd,
     Yet ne’er betraying this in conversation;
Proud with the proud, yet courteously proud,
     So as to make them feel he knew his station
And theirs:—without a struggle for priority,
He neither brook’d nor claim’d superiority.

16

That is, with men: with women he was what
     They pleased to make or take him for; and their
Imagination’s quite enough for that:
    So that the outline’s tolerably fair,
They fill the canvass up—and “verbum sat.”
     If once their phantasies be brought to bear
Upon an object, whether sad or playful,
They can transfigure brighter than a Raphael.

17

Adeline, no deep judge of character,
    Was apt to add a colouring from her own.
‘Tis thus the good will amiably err,
     And eke the wise, as has been often shown.
Experience is the chief philosopher,
     But saddest when his science is well known:
And persecuted sages teach the schools
Their folly in forgetting there are fools.

18

Was it not so, great Locke? and greater Bacon?
    Great Socrates? And thou Diviner still,
Whose lot it is by man to be mistaken,
     And thy pure creed made sanction of all ill?
Redeeming worlds to be by bigots shaken,
     How was thy toil rewarded? We might fill
Volumes with similar sad illustrations,
But leave them to the conscience of the nations.

19

I perch upon an humbler promontory,
     Amidst life’s infinite variety:
With no great care for what is nicknamed glory,
     But speculating as I cast mine eye
On what may suit or may not suit my story,
    And never straining hard to versify,
I rattle on exactly as I’d talk
With any body in a ride or walk.

20

I don’t know that there may be much ability
     Shown in this sort of desultory rhyme;
But there’s a conversational facility,
     Which may round off an hour upon a time.
Of this I’m sure at least, there’s no servility
     In mine irregularity of chime,
Which rings what’s uppermost of new or hoary,
Just as I feel the “Improvvisatore.”