And there, with Georgians, Russians, and Circassians
Bought up for different purposes and passions.

CXIV.

Some went off dearly: fifteen hundred dollars
For one Circassian, a sweet girl, were given,
Warranted virgin; beauty's brightest colours

Had deck'd her out in all the hues of heaven:
Her sale sent home some disappointed bawlers,
Who bade on till the hundreds reach'd eleven ;
But when the offer went beyond, they knew
'T was for the sultan, and at once withdrew.

CXV.

Twelve negresses from Nubia brought a price
Which the West Indian market scarce would bring,
Though Wilberforce, at last, has made it twice
What 't was ere abolition; and the thing
Need not seem very wonderful, for vice

Is always much more splendid than a king;
The virtues, even the most exalted, charity,
Are saving-vice spares nothing for a rarity.

CXVI.

But for the destiny of this young troop,

How some were bought by pachas, some by Jews
How some to burdens were obliged to stoop,

And others rose to the command of crews
As renegadoes; while in hapless group,

Hoping no very old vizier might choose;
The females stood, as one by one they pick'd 'em,
To make a mistress, or fourth wife, or victim.

CXVII

All this must be reserved for further song;
Also our hero's lot, howe'er unpleasant,
(Because this canto has become too long,)
Must be postponed discreetly for the present;
I'm sensible redundancy is wrong,

But could not for the muse of me put less in 't :
And now delay the progress of Don Juan,
Till what is call'd in Ossian, the fifth Duan.

CANTO V.

I.

When amatory poets sing their loves
In liquid lines mellifluously bland,
And pair their rhymes as Venus yokes her doves
They little think what mischief is in hand;
The greater their success the worse it proves.

As Ovid's verse may make you understand.
Even Petrarch's self, if judged with due severity
Is the Platonic pimp of all posterity.

"On the rough deep. But this last blow-" and here
He stopp'd again, and turn'd away his face.
"Ay," quoth his friend, "I thought it would appear
That there had been a lady in the case;
And these are things which ask a tender tear,
Such as I too would shed, if in your place:

I cried upon my first wife's dying day,
And also when my second ran away:

xx.

"My third"—" Your third!" quoth Juan, turning round;
"You scarcely can be thirty: have you three?"
"No-only two at present above ground:
Surely 't is nothing wonderful to see

One person thrice in holy wedlock bound!"

"Well, then, your third," said Juan; "what did she?

She did not run away, too, did she, sir?"

XXVI.

Just now a black old neutral personage

Of the third sex stepp'd up, and peering over
The captives, seem'd to mark their looks, and ago,
And capabilities, as to discover

If they were fitted for the purposed cage:
No lady e'er is ogled by a lover,

Horse by a blackleg, broadcloth by a tailor,
Fee by a counsel, felon by a jailor,

XXVII.

As is a slave by his intended bidder.

"T is pleasant purchasing our fellow-creatures; And all are to be sold, if you consider

Their passions, and are dext'rous; some by features
Are bought up, others by a warlike leader,

Some by a place-as tend their years or natures;
The most by ready cash--but all have prices,
From crowns to kicks, according to their vices.

XXVIII

The eunuch having eyed them o'er with care,
Turn'd to the merchant, and began to bid
First but for one, and after for the pair;
They haggled, wrangled, swore, too--so they did!
As though they were in a mere Christian fair,
Cheapening an ox, as ass, a lamb, or kid;
So that their bargain sounded like a battle

"No, faith."-" What then?" "I ran away from her." For this superior yoke of human cattle.

XXIX.

At last they settled into simple grumbling,
And pulling out reluctant purses, and
Turning each piece of silver o'er, and tumbling
Some down, and weighing others in their hand,
And by mistake sequins with paras jumbling,

Until the sum was accurately scann'd,
And then the merchant, giving change and signing
Receipts in full, began to think of dining.

xxx.

I wonder if his appetite was good;

Or, if it were, if also his digestion.

Methinks at meals some odd thoughts might intrude
And conscience ask a curious sort of question,

About the right divine how far we should

Sell flesh and blood. When dinner has oppress'd

I think it is perhaps the gloomiest hour
Which turns up out of the sad twenty-four.

Voltaire says "No," he tells you that Candide
Found life most tolerable after meals;
He's wrong-unless man was a pig, indeed,
Repletion rather adds to what he feels;
Unless he 's drunk, and then no doubt he 's freed
From his own brain's oppression while it reels.
Of food I think with Philip's son, or rather
Ammon's (ill pleased with one world and one father;)

XXXIV.

Poor fellow for some reason, surely bad,

They had slain him with five slugs; and left him there

To perish on the pavement: so I had

Him borne into the house and up the stair,

XLII.

As they were plodding on their winding way,
Through orange bowers, and jasmine, and so forth.
(Of which I might have a good deal to say,
There being no such profusion in the North

And stripp'd, and look'd to-But why should I add Of oriental plants, " etcætera,"

More circumstances? vain was every care; The man was gone: in some Italian quarrel Kill'd by five bullets from an old gun-barrel.

But that of late your scribblers think it worth Their while to rear whole hotbeds in their works, Because one poet travell'd 'mongst the Turks:)

A neat, snug study on a winter's night,

A book, friend, single lady, or a glass

Of claret, sandwich, and an appetite.

Are things which make an English evening pass;
Though certes by no means so grand a sight

As is a theatre lit up by gas.

pass my evenings in long galleries solely, And that's the reason I'm so melancholy.

Alas! man makes that great which makes him åtte:
I grant you in a church 't is very well:

What speaks of Heaven should by no means be brittle,
But strong and lasting, till no tongue can tell
Their names who rear'd it; but huge houses fit ill-
And huge tombs worse-mankind, since Adain fell!
Methinks the story of the tower of Babel

Might teach them this much better than I'm able.

Babel was Nimrod's hunting-seat, and then

A town of gardens, walls, and wealth amazing,
Where Nabuchadonosor, king of men,

Reign'd, till one summer's day he took to grazing,
And Daniel tamed the lions in their den,

The people's awe and admiration raising;
'T was famous, too, for Thisbe and for Pyramus,
And the calumniated Queen Semiramis.