And though I have seen many corpses, never Saw one, whom such an accident befell, So calm; though pierced through stomach, heart, and liver, He seem'd to sleep,- for you could scarcely tell (As he bled inwardly, no hideous river Of gore divulged the cause) that he was dead:
So as I gazed on him, I thought or said-'Can this be death? then what is life or death?
Speak!' but he spoke not: 'Wake!' but still he slept:-'But yesterday and who had mightier breath?
A thousand warriors by his word were kept In awe: he said, as the centurion saith, "Go," and he goeth; "come," and forth he stepp'd.
The trump and bugle till he spake were dumb-And now nought left him but the muffled drum.'
And they who waited once and worshipp'd- they With their rough faces throng'd about the bed To gaze once more on the commanding clay Which for the last, though not the first, time bled:
And such an end! that he who many a day Had faced Napoleon's foes until they fled,-The foremost in the charge or in the sally, Should now be butcher'd in a civic alley.
The scars of his old wounds were near his new, Those honourable scars which brought him fame;
And horrid was the contrast to the view-But let me quit the theme; as such things claim Perhaps even more attention than is due From me: I gazed (as oft I have gazed the same)
To try if I could wrench aught out of death Which should confirm, or shake, or make a faith;
But it was all a mystery. Here we are, And there we go:- but where? five bits of lead, Or three, or two, or one, send very far!
And is this blood, then, form'd but to be shed?
Can every element our elements mar?
And air- earth- water- fire live- and we dead?
We whose minds comprehend all things? No more;
But let us to the story as before.
The purchaser of Juan and acquaintance Bore off his bargains to a gilded boat, Embark'd himself and them, and off they went thence As fast as oars could pull and water float;
They look'd like persons being led to sentence, Wondering what next, till the caique was brought Up in a little creek below a wall O'ertopp'd with cypresses, dark-green and tall.
Here their conductor tapping at the wicket Of a small iron door, 't was open'd, and He led them onward, first through a low thicket Flank'd by large groves, which tower'd on either hand:
They almost lost their way, and had to pick it-For night was dosing ere they came to land.
The eunuch made a sign to those on board, Who row'd off, leaving them without a word.
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 Of oriental plants, 'et cetera,'
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)-As they were threading on their way, there came Into Don Juan's head a thought, which he Whisper'd to his companion:- 't was the same Which might have then occurr'd to you or me.
'Methinks,' said he, 'it would be no great shame If we should strike a stroke to set us free;
Let 's knock that old black fellow on the head, And march away- 't were easier done than said.'
'Yes,' said the other, 'and when done, what then?
How get out? how the devil got we in?
And when we once were fairly out, and when From Saint Bartholomew we have saved our skin, To-morrow 'd see us in some other den, And worse off than we hitherto have been;
Besides, I 'm hungry, and just now would take, Like Esau, for my birthright a beef-steak.
'We must be near some place of man's abode;-For the old negro's confidence in creeping, With his two captives, by so queer a road, Shows that he thinks his friends have not been sleeping;
A single cry would bring them all abroad:
'T is therefore better looking before leaping-And there, you see, this turn has brought us through, By Jove, a noble palace!- lighted too.'
It was indeed a wide extensive building Which open'd on their view, and o'er the front There seem'd to be besprent a deal of gilding And various hues, as is the Turkish wont,-A gaudy taste; for they are little skill'd in The arts of which these lands were once the font:
Each villa on the Bosphorus looks a screen New painted, or a pretty opera-scene.
And nearer as they came, a genial savour Of certain stews, and roast-meats, and pilaus, Things which in hungry mortals' eyes find favour, Made Juan in his harsh intentions pause, And put himself upon his good behaviour:
His friend, too, adding a new saving clause, Said, 'In Heaven's name let's get some supper now, And then I 'm with you, if you 're for a row.'
Some talk of an appeal unto some passion, Some to men's feelings, others to their reason;
The last of these was never much the fashion, For reason thinks all reasoning out of season.
Some speakers whine, and others lay the lash on, But more or less continue still to tease on, With arguments according to their 'forte;'
But no one dreams of ever being short.-But I digress: of all appeals,- although I grant the power of pathos, and of gold, Of beauty, flattery, threats, a shilling,- no Method 's more sure at moments to take hold Of the best feelings of mankind, which grow More tender, as we every day behold, Than that all-softening, overpowering knell, The tocsin of the soul- the dinner-bell.
Turkey contains no bells, and yet men dine;
And Juan and his friend, albeit they heard No Christian knoll to table, saw no line Of lackeys usher to the feast prepared, Yet smelt roast-meat, beheld a huge fire shine, And cooks in motion with their clean arms bared, And gazed around them to the left and right With the prophetic eye of appetite.
And giving up all notions of resistance, They follow'd close behind their sable guide, Who little thought that his own crack'd existence Was on the point of being set aside:
He motion'd them to stop at some small distance, And knocking at the gate, 't was open'd wide, And a magnificent large hall display'd The Asian pomp of Ottoman parade.
