LXXXVIII.

,,Oh Love! in such a wilderness as this, ,,Where transport and security entwine, ,,Here is the empire of thy perfect bliss, ,,And here thou art a god indeed divine.“ The bard I quote from does not sing amiss, 5 With the exception of the second line, For that same twining,,transport and security" Are twisted to a phrase of some obscurity.

LXXXIX.

The post meant, no doubt, and thus appeals
To the good sense and senses of mankind,

The very thing which every body feels,
As all have found on trial, or may find,a bil
That no one likes to be disturb'd at meals

Or love I wont say more about,,entwined"
Or,,transport," as we knew all that before,
But beg,,Security" will bolt the door,

XC.'

Young Juan wander'd by the glassy brooks

Thinking unutterable things; he threw

Himself at length within the leafy nooks
Where the wild branch of the cork forest grew;
There poets find materials for their books,

And every now and then we read them through, So that their plan and prosody are eligible, Unless, like Wordsworth, they prove unintelligible.

XCI.

He, Juan, (and not Wordsworth) so pursued
His self-communion with his own high soul,

Until his mighty heart, in its great mood,

Had mitigated part, though not the whole

Of its disease; he did the best he could

!

With things not very subject to control,

And turn'd, without perceiving his condition,
Like Coleridge, into a metaphysician.

I

XCII.

He thought about himself, and the whole earth,
Of man the wonderful, and of the stars,
And how the deuce they ever could have birth;

And then he thought of earthquakes, and of wars,
How many miles the moon might have in girth,
Of air-balloons, and of the many bars
To perfect knowledge of the boundless skies;
And then he thought of Donna Julia's eyes.

ХСІІІ.

In thoughts like these true wisdom may discern Longings sublime, and aspirations high, Which some are born with, but the most part learn

To plague themselves withal, they know not why: "Twas strange that one so young should thus con

cern

His brain about the action of the sky;
If you think 'twas philosophy that this did,

I can't help thinking puberty assisted.

XCIV.

He pored upon the leaves, and on the flowers,
And heard a voice in all the winds; and then
He thought of wood nymphs and immortal bowers,
And how the goddesses came down to men:
He miss'd the pathway, he forgot the hours,
And when he look'd upon his watch again,
He found how much old Time had been a winner.
He also found that he had lost his dinner.

XCV.

Sometimes he turn'd to gaze upon his book,
Boscan, or Garcilasso; - by the wind
Even as the page is rustled while we look,
So by the poesy of his own mind
Over the mystic leaf his soul was shook,

As if 'twere one whereon magicians bind Their spells, and give them to the passing gale, According to some good old woman's tale.

XCVI.

Thus would he while his lonely hours away
Dissatisfied, nor knowing what he wanted;
Nor glowing reverie, nor poet's lay,

Could yield his spirit that for which it panted, A bosom whereon he his head might lay,

And hear the heart beat with the love it granted, With several other things, which I forget, Or which, at least, I need not mention yet.

XCVII.

Those lonely walks, and lengthening reveries,
Could not escape the gentle Julia's eyes;
She saw that Juan not at his ease;

But that which chiefly may, and must surprise, Is, that the Donna Inez did not tease

Her only son with question or surmise; Whether it was she did not see, or would not, Or, like all very clever people, could not.