The Works of Lord Byron Volume VI Part 84

Great joy was hers, or rather joys: the first Was a ta'en city, thirty thousand slain: Glory and triumph o'er her aspect burst, As an East Indian sunrise on the main:-- These quenched a moment her Ambition's thirst-- So Arab deserts drink in Summer's rain: In vain!--As fall the dews on quenchless sands, Blood only serves to wash Ambition's hands!

LX.

Her next amus.e.m.e.nt was more fanciful; She smiled at mad Suwarrow's rhymes, who threw Into a Russian couplet rather dull The whole gazette of thousands whom he slew: Her third was feminine enough to annul The shudder which runs naturally through Our veins, when things called Sovereigns think it best To kill, and Generals turn it into jest.

LXI.

The two first feelings ran their course complete, And lighted first her eye, and then her mouth: The whole court looked immediately most sweet, Like flowers well watered after a long drouth:-- But when on the Lieutenant at her feet Her Majesty, who liked to gaze on youth Almost as much as on a new despatch, Glanced mildly,--all the world was on the watch.

LXII.

Though somewhat large, exuberant, and truculent, When _wroth_--while _pleased_, she was as fine a figure As those who like things rosy, ripe, and succulent, Would wish to look on, while they are in vigour.

She could repay each amatory look you lent With interest, and, in turn, was wont with rigour To exact of Cupid's bills the full amount At sight, nor would permit you to discount.

LXIII.

With her the latter, though at times convenient, Was not so necessary; for they tell That she was handsome, and though fierce _looked_ lenient, And always used her favourites too well.

If once beyond her boudoir's precincts in ye went, Your "fortune" was in a fair way "to swell A man" (as Giles says);[516] for though she would widow all Nations, she liked Man as an individual.

LXIV.

What a strange thing is Man! and what a stranger Is Woman! What a whirlwind is her head, And what a whirlpool full of depth and danger Is all the rest about her! Whether wed, Or widow--maid--or mother, she can change her Mind like the wind: whatever she has said Or done, is light to what she'll say or do;-- The oldest thing on record, and yet new!

LXV.

Oh Catherine! (for of all interjections, To thee both _oh!_ and _ah!_ belong, of right, In Love and War) how odd are the connections Of human thoughts, which jostle in their flight!

Just now _yours_ were cut out in different sections: _First_ Ismail's capture caught your fancy quite; _Next_ of new knights, the fresh and glorious batch: And _thirdly_ he who brought you the despatch!

LXVI.

Shakespeare talks of "the herald Mercury New lighted on a heaven-kissing hill:"[517]

And some such visions crossed her Majesty, While her young herald knelt before her still.

'T is very true the hill seemed rather high, For a Lieutenant to climb up; but skill Smoothed even the Simplon's steep, and by G.o.d's blessing, With Youth and Health all kisses are "Heaven-kissing."

LXVII.

Her Majesty looked down, the youth looked up-- And so they fell in love;--she with his face, His grace, his G.o.d-knows-what: for Cupid's cup With the first draught intoxicates apace, A quintessential laudanum or "Black Drop,"

Which makes one drunk at once, without the base Expedient of full b.u.mpers; for the eye In love drinks all Life's fountains (save tears) dry.

LXVIII.

He, on the other hand, if not in love, Fell into that no less imperious pa.s.sion, Self-love--which, when some sort of thing above Ourselves, a singer, dancer, much in fashion, Or d.u.c.h.ess--Princess--Empress, "deigns to prove"[518]

('T is Pope's phrase) a great longing, though a rash one, For one especial person out of many, Make us believe ourselves as good as any.

LXIX.

Besides, he was of that delighted age Which makes all female ages equal--when We don't much care with whom we may engage, As bold as Daniel in the lions' den, So that we can our native sun a.s.suage In the next ocean, which may flow just then-- To make a _twilight_ in, just as Sol's heat is Quenched in the lap of the salt sea, or Thetis.

LXX.

And Catherine (we must say thus much for Catherine), Though bold and b.l.o.o.d.y, was the kind of thing Whose temporary pa.s.sion was quite flattering, Because each lover looked a sort of King, Made up upon an amatory pattern, A royal husband in all save the _ring_--[jn]

Which, (being the d.a.m.nedest part of matrimony,) Seemed taking out the sting to leave the honey:

LXXI.

And when you add to this, her Womanhood In its meridian, her blue eyes[519] or gray-- (The last, if they have soul, are quite as good, Or better, as the best examples say: Napoleon's, Mary's[520] (Queen of Scotland), should Lend to that colour a transcendent ray; And Pallas also sanctions the same hue, Too wise to look through optics black or blue)--

LXXII.

Her sweet smile, and her then majestic figure,[jo]

Her plumpness, her imperial condescension, Her preference of a boy to men much bigger (Fellows whom Messalina's self would pension), Her prime of life, just now in juicy vigour, With other _extras_, which we need not mention,-- All these, or any one of these, explain Enough to make a stripling very vain.

LXXIII.

And that's enough, for Love is vanity, Selfish in its beginning as its end,[jp]

Except where 't is a mere insanity, A maddening spirit which would strive to blend Itself with Beauty's frail inanity, On which the Pa.s.sion's self seems to depend; And hence some heathenish philosophers Make Love the main-spring of the Universe.

LXXIV.

Besides Platonic love, besides the love Of G.o.d, the love of sentiment, the loving Of faithful pairs--(I needs must rhyme with dove, That good old steam-boat which keeps verses moving 'Gainst reason--Reason ne'er was hand-and-glove With rhyme, but always leant less to improving The sound than sense)--besides all these pretences To Love, there are those things which words name senses;

LXXV.

Those movements, those improvements in our bodies Which make all bodies anxious to get out Of their own sand-pits, to mix with a G.o.ddess, For such all women are at first no doubt.[jq]

How beautiful that moment! and how odd is That fever which precedes the languid rout Of our sensations! What a curious way The whole thing is of clothing souls in clay![jr]

LXXVI.[521]

The n.o.blest kind of love is love Platonical, To end or to begin with; the next grand Is that which may be christened love canonical, Because the clergy take the thing in hand; The third sort to be noted in our chronicle As flourishing in every Christian land, Is when chaste matrons to their other ties Add what may be called _marriage in disguise_.

LXXVII.

Well, we won't a.n.a.lyse--our story must Tell for itself: the Sovereign was smitten, Juan much flattered by her love, or l.u.s.t;-- I cannot stop to alter words once written, And the _two_ are so mixed with human dust, That he who _names one_, both perchance may hit on: But in such matters Russia's mighty Empress Behaved no better than a common sempstress.

LXXVIII.

The whole court melted into one wide whisper, And all lips were applied unto all ears!

The elder ladies' wrinkles curled much crisper As they beheld; the younger cast some leers On one another, and each lovely lisper Smiled as she talked the matter o'er; but tears Of rivalship rose in each clouded eye Of all the standing army who stood by.

LXXIX.

All the amba.s.sadors of all the powers Inquired, Who was this very new young man, Who promised to be great in some few hours?

Which is full soon (though Life is but a span).

Already they beheld the silver showers Of rubles rain, as fast as specie can, Upon his cabinet, besides the presents Of several ribands, and some thousand peasants.[522]

Lx.x.x.

Catherine was generous,--all such ladies are: Love--that great opener of the heart and all The ways that lead there, be they near or far, Above, below, by turnpikes great or small,-- Love--(though she had a cursed taste for War, And was not the best wife unless we call Such Clytemnestra, though perhaps 't is better That one should die--than two drag on the fetter)--