The mother's mark between his flanks defended;

Nor less familiar than ACHILLES' heel,

That fatal brand on which the life depended

Of ŒENEUS' heir, when she, whose heart could feel
Joy for his valor, curs'd the prize it won,

And in the nephew ceas'd to know the son;

- (1)

XXVI.

So ARTHUR'S frailty was the mortal spot
That marr'd an otherwise immortal nature;

head per lo naso, by the nose; whereupon the face grows livid, the eyes roll back in their sockets, and the decapitated trunk, which was following, at full speed on horseback, the English knight, falls from the saddle a corpse. See Orl. Fur. Cto. xv. 64-87. This amusing fable was probably suggested by the ancient superstition of PROSERPINA and the fated lock, of which we have so beautiful an illustration at the close of the fourth Æneid.

(1) At the birth of MELEAGER, Son of ENEUS, king of CALYDON, the Destinies were present, and declared that his life should last while a brand, which they threw upon the fire, should be unconsumed. Immediately his mother, ALTHEA, snatched the billet from the hearth, extinguished it, and treasured it. MELEAGER, having slain the Calydonian boar, gave the spoils to ATALANTA, who had been the first to wound the monster. His uncles, in their jealousy, took them from her, using at the time injurious expressions; and the hero slew them. ALTHEA, on her way to the temples, to render thanks for her son's good fortune, met the escort with the bodies of her brothers, and, in a transport of mingled grief and anger, hurrying back to the palace, restored the billet to the flames. As the last cinder crumbled into ashes, MELEAGER expired. See the Metam. of OVID, lib. viii. fab. 4.

Where sordid thought and low desire were not,
But qualities of high, celestial feature.

His weakness was what fell to ADAM's lot,

And foul'd with sin JEHOVAH's brightest creature ;
And worshipping the stars of woman's eyes
Expell'd him from the Eden of the wise.

XXVII.

"Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster?" (1)

I mean not to apologize for sin

In quoting which from human-nature's master ;

But this I say, where pleasure is to win,

The warm of blood will run the race much faster,
Than he, whose chilly spirits tempt him never
To heat, in any way, his sluggish liver. (2)

XXVIII.

Yet deem not ARTHUR sensual; though warm,
His nature was essentially poetical.
Enamour'd of the excellence of form,
(Pray pardon me these stanzas exegetical,)
He sought therewith combin'd a higher charm,
Though finding it most often antithetical, —
The charm of moral worth as I shall prove,
His love was passion, but his passion love.

:

(1) Merchant of Venice, Act i. Sc. 1.

(2) "And let thy liver rather heat with wine," etc. Same; same passage.

XXIX.

Essentially poetical, to him

All beauty was divinity, and Heaven
Shone in the stars not more than in the dim
And shadowy forest, and a voice was given
To the minutest insect life, to hymn
Sweet adoration like the birds, and even
Attraction in the homeliest things that crawl,
For GoD was in them, and the soul of all.

XXX.

But most in woman's beauty ARTHUR Saw
The image of Creative Love complete.

'T was there he worshipp'd, and if not with awe, (For this, sensation's thrill was all too sweet,) Yet with an ecstasy that seem'd to draw

All feelings to its vortex; and the beat
Of his strong pulse, if caus'd by passion then,
Was not the kind that stirs the mass of men.

XXXI.

BIANCA'S charms could not the observation
Escape of so experienc'd an eye;
And when our hero saw her perturbation,
CUPID, in common phrase, a bolt let fly,
That caus'd, of course, the usual titillation,
Precursor of the thrills that make us sigh;
And ARTHUR for a while look'd red and stupid :
He makes one feel so foolish, that vile CUPID!

XXXII.

Then he too rose (not CUPID, but our hero,)

And took his seat where BLANCHE had just been seated,
And looking o'er the poop as blank as zero,
He made the lady fear she had been cheated;
But soon she found he was not quite a Nero,
For presently her little heart he treated

With sidelong glances, neither harsh nor haughty:
And BLANCHE return'd them; which was very naughty.

XXXIII.

Now all this time the packet was in motion,

As I suppos'd the reader might suppose,

And, though the day was fine, a slight commotion

Was ruffling up the ugly sea that flows

'Twixt FRANCE and ENGLAND, worse than open ocean,

As every one that 's try'd them both well knows,

And spite of gayety, and even flirtation,

Poor BLANCHE began to feel an odd sensation.

XXXIV.

And soon the color of her lovely cheek,

That had a tone voluptuous and mellow,

Was seen to leave the picture, streak by streak,
Which turn'd first pale, and presently pale yellow.
But still, perhaps in pride to seem less weak
Than many a maid and more than one stout fellow,
She resolutely pac'd the deck along,

But with a step less equal and less strong.

XXXV.

At length (by accident, I deem) she dropp'd
One of her gloves before young CARRYL's feet,
And as, when lifting it he rose, she stopp'd,

Thank'd him in French, with smile and gesture sweet,
Then turn'd, o' th' sudden, like a green bough lopp'd,
Which droops, not falls, she sunk into a seat,
Close by our hero, who, in consternation,

Began to proffer his commiseration.

XXXVI.

This took BIANCA as her proper right;

And then she took

a glass of simple water,

Apologizing first with all her might,

In the set phrases which her breeding taught her,
For the vast trouble her unlucky plight

Was giving his politeness, which besought her

Not to suppose that what in any measure

Could give her ease was aught to him but pleasure.

XXXVII.

This mutual and polite exaggeration
Being finish'd to their mutual content,
The fair one, with a languid inclination,

Against the rails her person backward leant,
Her blue eyes clos'd, and in this situation
Rested a little space, which ARTHUR spent
In following up his amorous prolusions,
By drawing physiognomical conclusions.