from Canto XVI

21

It was no mouse, but lo! a monk, arrayed
     In cowl and beads and dusky garb, appeared,
Now in the moonlight, and now lapsed in shade,
     With steps that trod as heavy, yet unheard;
His garments only a slight murmur made;
     He moved as shadowy as the sisters weird,
But slowly; and as he passed Juan by,
Glanced, without pausing, on him a bright eye.

22

Juan was petrified; he had heard a hint
     Of such a spirit in these halls of old,
But thought, like most men, there was nothing in’t
     Beyond the rumour which such spots unfold,
Coined from surviving superstition’s mint,
     Which passes ghosts in currency like gold,
But rarely seen, like gold compared with paper.
And did he see this? or was it a vapour?

23

Once, twice, thrice passed, repassed—the thing of air,
     Or earth beneath, or heaven, or t’other place;
And Juan gazed upon it with a stare,
     Yet could not speak or move; but, on its base
As stands a statue, stood: he felt his hair
     Twine like a knot of snakes around his face;
He taxed his tongue for words, which were not granted,
To ask the reverend person what he wanted.

24

The third time, after a still longer pause,
     The shadow passed away—but where? the hall
Was long, and thus far there was no great cause
     To think his vanishing unnatural:
Doors there were many, through which, by the laws
     Of physics, bodies whether short or tall
Might come or go; but Juan could not state
Through which the spectre seemed to evaporate.

25

He stood—how long he knew not, but it seemed
     An age,—expectant, powerless, with his eyes
Strained on the spot where first the figure gleamed;
     Then by degrees recalled his energies,
And would have passed the whole off as a dream,
     But could not wake; he was, he did surmise,
Waking already, and returned at length
Back to his chamber, shorn of half his strength.

26

All there was as he left it: still his taper
     Burnt, and not blue, as modest tapers use,
Receiving sprites with sympathetic vapour;
     He rubbed his eyes, and they did not refuse
Their office; he took up an old newspaper;
     The paper was right easy to peruse;
He read an article the king attacking,
And a long eulogy of “Patent Blacking.”

27

This savoured of this world; but his hand shook—
     He shut his door, and after having read
A paragraph, I think about Horne Tooke,
    Undrest, and rather slowly went to bed.
There couched all snugly on his pillow’s nook,
     With what he had seen his phantasy he fed,
And though it was no opiate, slumber crept
Upon him by degrees, and so he slept.

28

He woke betimes; and, as may be supposed,
    Pondered upon his visitant or vision,
And whether it ought not to be disclosed,
     At risk of being quizzed for superstition.
The more he thought, the more his mind was posed;
     In the mean time, his valet, whose precision
Was great, because his master brooked no less,
Knocked to inform him it was time to dress.

29

He dressed; and like young people, he was wont
     To take some trouble with his toilet, but
This morning rather spent less time upon’t;
     Aside his very mirror soon was put;
His curls fell negligently o’er his front,
     His clothes were not curbed to their usual cut,
His very neckcloth’s Gordian knot was tied
Almost an hair’s breadth too much on one side.

30

And when he walked down into the saloon,
     He sate him pensive o’er a dish of tea,
Which he perhaps had not discovered soon,
     Had it not happened scalding hot to be,
Which made him have recourse unto his spoon;
    So much distrait he was, that all could see
That something was the matter—Adeline
The first—but what she could not well divine.