The Works of Lord Byron Volume VI Part 131

Lx.x.xIX.

This was no bad mistake, as it occurred, The supplicator being an amateur; But others, who were left with scarce a third, Were angry--as they well might, to be sure, They wondered how a young man so absurd Lord Henry at his table should endure; And this, and his not knowing how much oats Had fallen last market, cost his host three votes.

XC.

They little knew, or might have sympathized, That he the night before had seen a ghost, A prologue which but slightly harmonized With the substantial company engrossed By matter, and so much materialised, That one scarce knew at what to marvel most Of two things--_how_ (the question rather odd is) Such bodies could have souls, or souls such bodies!

XCI.

But what confused him more than smile or stare From all the 'squires and 'squiresses around, Who wondered at the abstraction of his air, Especially as he had been renowned For some vivacity among the fair, Even in the country circle's narrow bound-- (For little things upon my Lord's estate Were good small talk for others still less great)--

XCII.

Was, that he caught Aurora's eye on his, And something like a smile upon her cheek.

Now this he really rather took amiss; In those who rarely smile, their smile bespeaks A strong external motive; and in this Smile of Aurora's there was nought to pique, Or Hope, or Love--with any of the wiles Which some pretend to trace in ladies' smiles.

XCIII.

'Twas a mere quiet smile of contemplation, Indicative of some surprise and pity; And Juan grew carnation with vexation, Which was not very wise, and still less witty, Since he had gained at least her observation, A most important outwork of the city-- As Juan should have known, had not his senses By last night's Ghost been driven from their defences.

XCIV.

But what was bad, she did not blush in turn, Nor seem embarra.s.sed--quite the contrary; Her aspect was as usual, still--_not_ stern-- And she withdrew, but cast not down, her eye, Yet grew a little pale--with what? concern?

I know not; but her colour ne'er was high-- Though sometimes faintly flushed--and always clear, As deep seas in a sunny atmosphere.

XCV.

But Adeline was occupied by fame This day; and watching, witching, condescending To the consumers of fish, fowl, and game, And dignity with courtesy so blending, As all must blend whose part it is to aim (Especially as the sixth year is ending) At their lord's, son's, or similar connection's Safe conduct through the rocks of re-elections.

XCVI.

Though this was most expedient on the whole And usual--Juan, when he cast a glance On Adeline while playing her grand _role_, Which she went through as though it were a dance, Betraying only now and then her soul By a look scarce perceptibly askance (Of weariness or scorn), began to feel Some doubt how much of Adeline was _real_;

XCVII.

So well she acted all and every part By turns--with that vivacious versatility, Which many people take for want of heart.

They err--'tis merely what is called mobility,[803]

A thing of temperament and not of art, Though seeming so, from its supposed facility; And false--though true; for, surely, they're sincerest Who are strongly acted on by what is nearest.

XCVIII.

This makes your actors, artists, and romancers, Heroes sometimes, though seldom--sages never: But speakers, bards, diplomatists, and dancers, Little that's great, but much of what is clever; Most orators, but very few financiers, Though all Exchequer Chancellors endeavour, Of late years, to dispense with c.o.c.ker's rigours,[804]

And grow quite figurative with their figures.

XCIX.

The poets of Arithmetic are they Who, though they prove not two and two to be Five, as they might do in a modest way, Have plainly made it out that four are three, Judging by what they take, and what they pay: The Sinking Fund's unfathomable sea, That most unliquidating liquid, leaves The debt unsunk, yet sinks all it receives.

C.

While Adeline dispensed her airs and graces, The fair Fitz-Fulke seemed very much at ease; Though too well bred to quiz men to their faces, Her laughing blue eyes with a glance could seize The ridicules of people in all places-- That honey of your fashionable bees-- And store it up for mischievous enjoyment; And this at present was her kind employment.

CI.

However, the day closed, as days must close; The evening also waned--and coffee came.

Each carriage was announced, and ladies rose, And curtsying off, as curtsies country dame, Retired: with most unfashionable bows Their docile Esquires also did the same, Delighted with their dinner and their Host, But with the Lady Adeline the most.

CII.

Some praised her beauty: others her great grace; The warmth of her politeness, whose sincerity Was obvious in each feature of her face, Whose traits were radiant with the rays of verity.

Yes; _she_ was truly worthy _her_ high place!

No one could envy her deserved prosperity.

And then her dress--what beautiful simplicity Draperied her form with curious felicity![805]

CIII.

Meanwhile sweet Adeline deserved their praises, By an impartial indemnification For all her past exertion and soft phrases, In a most edifying conversation, Which turned upon their late guests' miens and faces, Their families, even to the last relation; Their hideous wives, their horrid selves and dresses, And truculent distortion of their tresses.

CIV.

True, _she_ said little--'twas the rest that broke Forth into universal epigram; But then 'twas to the purpose what she spoke: Like Addison's "faint praise,"[806] so wont to d.a.m.n, Her own but served to set off every joke, As music chimes in with a melodrame.

How sweet the task to shield an absent friend!

I ask but this of mine, to----_not_ defend.

CV.

There were but two exceptions to this keen Skirmish of wits o'er the departed; one, Aurora, with her pure and placid mien; And Juan, too, in general behind none In gay remark on what he had heard or seen, Sate silent now, his usual spirits gone: In vain he heard the others rail or rally, He would not join them in a single sally.

CVI.

'Tis true he saw Aurora look as though She approved his silence; she perhaps mistook Its motive for that charity we owe But seldom pay the absent, nor would look Farther--it might or it might not be so.

But Juan, sitting silent in his nook, Observing little in his reverie, Yet saw this much, which he was glad to see.

CVII.

The Ghost at least had done him this much good, In making him as silent as a ghost, If in the circ.u.mstances which ensued He gained esteem where it was worth the most; And, certainly, Aurora had renewed In him some feelings he had lately lost, Or hardened; feelings which, perhaps ideal, Are so divine, that I must deem them real:--

CVIII.

The love of higher things and better days; The unbounded hope, and heavenly ignorance Of what is called the World, and the World's ways; The moments when we gather from a glance More joy than from all future pride or praise, Which kindle manhood, but can ne'er entrance The Heart in an existence of its own, Of which another's bosom is the zone.

CIX.

Who would not sigh ?? a? t?? ?????e?a? [Greek: Ai)/ ai)/ tan Kythe/reian][807]

That _hath_ a memory, or that _had_ a heart?

Alas! _her_ star must fade like that of Dian: Ray fades on ray, as years on years depart.

Anacreon only had the soul to tie an Unwithering myrtle round the unblunted dart Of Eros: but though thou hast played us many tricks, Still we respect thee,"_Alma Venus Genetrix!_"[808]

CX.