from Canto XV

81

From answering, she began to question: this
     With her was rare; and Adeline, who as yet
Thought her predictions went not much amiss,
    Began to dread she’d thaw to a coquette—
So very difficult, they say, it is
     To keep extremes from meeting, when once set
In motion; but she here too much refined—
Aurora’s spirit was not of that kind.

82

But Juan had a sort of winning way,
     A proud humility, if such there be,
Which show’d such deference to what females say,
     As if each charming word were a decree.
His tact too temper’d him from grave to gay,
     And taught him when to be reserved or free:
He had the art of drawing people out,
Without their seeing what he was about.

83

Aurora, who in her indifference
     Confounded him in common with the crowd
Of flutterers, though she deem’d he had more sense
    Than whispering foplings, or than witlings loud,—
Commenced (from such slight things will great commence)
     To feel that flattery which attracts the proud
Rather by deference than compliment,
And wins even by a delicate dissent.

84

And then he had good looks;—that point was carried
    Nem. con. amongst the women, which I grieve
To say leads oft to crim. con. with the married—
     A case which to the Juries we may leave,
Since with digressions we too long have tarried.
     Now though we know of old that looks deceive,
And always have done, somehow these good looks
Make more impression than the best of books.

85

Aurora, who look’d more on books than faces,
     Was very young, although so very sage,
Admiring more Minerva than the Graces,
     Especially upon a printed page.
But Virtue’s self, with all her tightest laces,
     Has not the natural stays of strict old age;
And Socrates, that model of all duty,
Own’d to a penchant, though discreet, for beauty.

86

And girls of sixteen are thus far Socratic,
     But innocently so, as Socrates:
And really, if the Sage sublime and Attic
     At seventy years had phantasies like these,
Which Plato in his dialogues dramatic
     Has shown, I know not why they should displease
In virgins—always in a modest way,
Observe; for that with me’s a “sine qu.”

87

Also observe, that like the great Lord Coke,
     (See Littleton) whene’er I have expressed
Opinions two, which at first sight may look
     Twin opposites, the second is the best.
Perhaps I have a third too in a nook,
     Or none at all—which seems a sorry jest;
But if a writer should be quite consistent,
How could he possibly show things existent?

88

If people contradict themselves, can I
     Help contradicting them, and every body,
Even my veracious self?—But that’s a lie;
     I never did so, never will—how should I?
He who doubts all things, nothing can deny;
     Truth’s fountains may be clear—her streams are muddy,
And cut through such canals of contradiction,
That she must often navigate o’er fiction.

89

Apologue, fable, poesy, and parable,
     Are false, but may be render’d also true
By those who sow them in a land that’s arable.
     ‘Tis wonderful what fable will not do!
‘Tis said it makes reality more bearable:
     But what’s reality? Who has its clue?
Philosophy? No; she too much rejects.
Religion? Yes; but which of all her sects?

90

Some millions must be wrong, that’s pretty clear:
     Perhaps it may turn out that all were right.
God help us! Since we have need on our career
     To keep our holy beacons always bright,
‘Tis time that some new Prophet should appear,
     Or old indulge man with a second sight.
Opinions wear out in some thousand years,
Without a small refreshment from the spheres.