Selected Works of George Gordon, Lord Byron

     LXXVII
That on a sudden, when she least had hope,
  It fell down of its own accord before
Her feet; that her first movement was to stoop
  And pick it up, and bite it to the core;
That just as her young lip began to ope
  Upon the golden fruit the vision bore,
A bee flew out and stung her to the heart,
And so--she awoke with a great scream and start.

     LXXVIII
All this she told with some confusion and
  Dismay, the usual consequence of dreams
Of the unpleasant kind, with none at hand
  To expound their vain and visionary gleams.
I 've known some odd ones which seem'd really plann'd
  Prophetically, or that which one deems
A 'strange coincidence,' to use a phrase
By which such things are settled now-a-days.

     LXXIX
The damsels, who had thoughts of some great harm,
  Began, as is the consequence of fear,
To scold a little at the false alarm
  That broke for nothing on their sleeping car.
The matron, too, was wroth to leave her warm
  Bed for the dream she had been obliged to hear,
And chafed at poor Dudu, who only sigh'd,
And said that she was sorry she had cried.

     LXXX
'I 've heard of stories of a cock and bull;
  But visions of an apple and a bee,
To take us from our natural rest, and pull
  The whole Oda from their beds at half-past three,
Would make us think the moon is at its full.
  You surely are unwell, child! we must see,
To-morrow, what his Highness's physician
Will say to this hysteric of a vision.

     LXXXI
'And poor Juanna, too--the child's first night
  Within these walls to be broke in upon
With such a clamour! I had thought it right
  That the young stranger should not lie alone,
And, as the quietest of all, she might
  With you, Dudu, a good night's rest have known;
But now I must transfer her to the charge
Of Lolah--though her couch is not so large.'

     LXXXII
Lolah's eyes sparkled at the proposition;
  But poor Dudu, with large drops in her own,
Resulting from the scolding or the vision,
  Implored that present pardon might be shown
For this first fault, and that on no condition
  (She added in a soft and piteous tone)
Juanna should be taken from her, and
Her future dreams should all be kept in hand.

     LXXXIII
She promised never more to have a dream,
  At least to dream so loudly as just now;
She wonder'd at herself how she could scream--
  'T was foolish, nervous, as she must allow,
A fond hallucination, and a theme
  For laughter--but she felt her spirits low,
And begg'd they would excuse her; she 'd get over
This weakness in a few hours, and recover.

     LXXXIV
And here Juanna kindly interposed,
  And said she felt herself extremely well
Where she then was, as her sound sleep disclosed
  When all around rang like a tocsin bell:
She did not find herself the least disposed
  To quit her gentle partner, and to dwell
Apart from one who had no sin to show,
Save that of dreaming once 'mal-a-propos.'

     LXXXV
As thus Juanna spoke, Dudu turn'd round
  And hid her face within Juanna's breast:
Her neck alone was seen, but that was found
  The colour of a budding rose's crest.
I can't tell why she blush'd, nor can expound
  The mystery of this rupture of their rest;
All that I know is, that the facts I state
Are true as truth has ever been of late.

     LXXXVI
And so good night to them,--or, if you will,
  Good morrow--for the cock had crown, and light
Began to clothe each Asiatic hill,
  And the mosque crescent struggled into sight
Of the long caravan, which in the chill
  Of dewy dawn wound slowly round each height
That stretches to the stony belt, which girds
Asia, where Kaff looks down upon the Kurds.

     LXXXVII
With the first ray, or rather grey of morn,
  Gulbeyaz rose from restlessness; and pale
As passion rises, with its bosom worn,
  Array'd herself with mantle, gem, and veil.
The nightingale that sings with the deep thorn,
  Which fable places in her breast of wail,
Is lighter far of heart and voice than those
Whose headlong passions form their proper woes.

     LXXXVIII
And that 's the moral of this composition,
  If people would but see its real drift;--
But that they will not do without suspicion,
  Because all gentle readers have the gift
Of closing 'gainst the light their orbs of vision;
  While gentle writers also love to lift
Their voices 'gainst each other, which is natural,
The numbers are too great for them to flatter all.

     LXXXIX
Rose the sultana from a bed of splendour,
  Softer than the soft Sybarite's, who cried
Aloud because his feelings were too tender
  To brook a ruffled rose-leaf by his side,--
So beautiful that art could little mend her,
  Though pale with conflicts between love and pride;--
So agitated was she with her error,
She did not even look into the mirror.

     XC
Also arose about the self-same time,
  Perhaps a little later, her great lord,
Master of thirty kingdoms so sublime,
  And of a wife by whom he was abhorr'd;
A thing of much less import in that clime--
  At least to those of incomes which afford
The filling up their whole connubial cargo--
Than where two wives are under an embargo.

     XCI
He did not think much on the matter, nor
  Indeed on any other: as a man
He liked to have a handsome paramour
  At hand, as one may like to have a fan,
And therefore of Circassians had good store,
  As an amusement after the Divan;
Though an unusual fit of love, or duty,
Had made him lately bask in his bride's beauty.

     XCII
And now he rose; and after due ablutions
  Exacted by the customs of the East,
And prayers and other pious evolutions,
  He drank six cups of coffee at the least,
And then withdrew to hear about the Russians,
  Whose victories had recently increased
In Catherine's reign, whom glory still adores,
As greatest of all sovereigns and whores.


     XCIII
But oh, thou grand legitimate Alexander!
  Her son's son, let not this last phrase offend
Thine ear, if it should reach--and now rhymes wander
  Almost as far as Petersburgh and lend
A dreadful impulse to each loud meander
  Of murmuring Liberty's wide waves, which blend
Their roar even with the Baltic's--so you be
Your father's son, 't is quite enough for me.

     XCIV
To call men love-begotten or proclaim
  Their mothers as the antipodes of Timon,
That hater of mankind, would be a shame,
  A libel, or whate'er you please to rhyme on:
But people's ancestors are history's game;
  And if one lady's slip could leave a crime on
All generations, I should like to know
What pedigree the best would have to show?

     XCV
Had Catherine and the sultan understood
  Their own true interests, which kings rarely know
Until 't is taught by lessons rather rude,
  There was a way to end their strife, although
Perhaps precarious, had they but thought good,
  Without the aid of prince or plenipo:
She to dismiss her guards and he his haram,
And for their other matters, meet and share 'em.

     XCVII
But as it was, his Highness had to hold
  His daily council upon ways and means
How to encounter with this martial scold,
  This modern Amazon and queen of queans;
And the perplexity could not be told
  Of all the pillars of the state, which leans
Sometimes a little heavy on the backs
Of those who cannot lay on a new tax.

     XCVIII
Meantime Gulbeyaz, when her king was gone,
  Retired into her boudoir, a sweet place
For love or breakfast; private, pleasing, lone,
  And rich with all contrivances which grace
Those gay recesses:--many a precious stone
  Sparkled along its roof, and many a vase
Of porcelain held in the fetter'd flowers,
Those captive soothers of a captive's hours.

     XCIX
Mother of pearl, and porphyry, and marble,
  Vied with each other on this costly spot;
And singing birds without were heard to warble;
  And the stain'd glass which lighted this fair grot
Varied each ray;--but all descriptions garble
  The true effect, and so we had better not
Be too minute; an outline is the best,--
A lively reader's fancy does the rest.

     C
And here she summon'd Baba, and required
  Don Juan at his hands, and information
Of what had pass'd since all the slaves retired,
  And whether he had occupied their station;
If matters had been managed as desired,
  And his disguise with due consideration
Kept up; and above all, the where and how
He had pass'd the night, was what she wish'd to know.

     CI
Baba, with some embarrassment, replied
  To this long catechism of questions, ask'd
More easily than answer'd,--that he had tried
  His best to obey in what he had been task'd;
But there seem'd something that he wish'd to hide,
  Which hesitation more betray'd than mask'd;
He scratch'd his ear, the infallible resource
To which embarrass'd people have recourse.

     CII
Gulbeyaz was no model of true patience,
  Nor much disposed to wait in word or deed;
She liked quick answers in all conversations;
  And when she saw him stumbling like a steed
In his replies, she puzzled him for fresh ones;
  And as his speech grew still more broken-kneed,
Her cheek began to flush, her eyes to sparkle,
And her proud brow's blue veins to swell and darkle.

     CIII
When Baba saw these symptoms, which he knew
  To bode him no great good, he deprecated
Her anger, and beseech'd she 'd hear him through--
  He could not help the thing which he related:
Then out it came at length, that to Dudu
  Juan was given in charge, as hath been stated;
But not by Baba's fault, he said, and swore on
The holy camel's hump, besides the Koran.

     CIV
The chief dame of the Oda, upon whom
  The discipline of the whole haram bore,
As soon as they re-enter'd their own room,
  For Baba's function stopt short at the door,
Had settled all; nor could he then presume
  (The aforesaid Baba) just then to do more,
Without exciting such suspicion as
Might make the matter still worse than it was.

     CV
He hoped, indeed he thought, he could be sure
  Juan had not betray'd himself; in fact
'T was certain that his conduct had been pure,
  Because a foolish or imprudent act
Would not alone have made him insecure,
  But ended in his being found out and sack'd,
And thrown into the sea.--Thus Baba spoke
Of all save Dudu's dream, which was no joke.

     CVI
This he discreetly kept in the background,
  And talk'd away--and might have talk'd till now,
For any further answer that he found,
  So deep an anguish wrung Gulbeyaz' brow:
Her cheek turn'd ashes, ears rung, brain whirl'd round,
  As if she had received a sudden blow,
And the heart's dew of pain sprang fast and chilly
O'er her fair front, like Morning's on a lily.

     CVII
Although she was not of the fainting sort,
  Baba thought she would faint, but there he err'd--
It was but a convulsion, which though short
  Can never be described; we all have heard,
And some of us have felt thus 'all amort,'
  When things beyond the common have occurr'd;--
Gulbeyaz proved in that brief agony
What she could ne'er express--then how should I?

     CVIII
She stood a moment as a Pythones
  Stands on her tripod, agonised, and full
Of inspiration gather'd from distress,
  When all the heart-strings like wild horses pull
The heart asunder;--then, as more or lees
  Their speed abated or their strength grew dull,
She sunk down on her seat by slow degrees,
And bow'd her throbbing head o'er trembling knees.

     CIX
Her face declined and was unseen; her hair
  Fell in long tresses like the weeping willow,
Sweeping the marble underneath her chair,
  Or rather sofa (for it was all pillow,
A low soft ottoman), and black despair
  Stirr'd up and down her bosom like a billow,
Which rushes to some shore whose shingles check
Its farther course, but must receive its wreck.

     CX
Her head hung down, and her long hair in stooping
  Conceal'd her features better than a veil;
And one hand o'er the ottoman lay drooping,
  White, waxen, and as alabaster pale:
Would that I were a painter! to be grouping
  All that a poet drags into detail
Oh that my words were colours! but their tints
May serve perhaps as outlines or slight hints.

     CXI
Baba, who knew by experience when to talk
  And when to hold his tongue, now held it till
This passion might blow o'er, nor dared to balk
  Gulbeyaz' taciturn or speaking will.
At length she rose up, and began to walk
  Slowly along the room, but silent still,
And her brow clear'd, but not her troubled eye;
The wind was down, but still the sea ran high.

     CXII
She stopp'd, and raised her head to speak--but paused,
  And then moved on again with rapid pace;
Then slacken'd it, which is the march most caused
  By deep emotion:--you may sometimes trace
A feeling in each footstep, as disclosed
  By Sallust in his Catiline, who, chased
By all the demons of all passions, show'd
Their work even by the way in which he trode.

     CXIII
Gulbeyaz stopp'd and beckon'd Baba:--'Slave!
  Bring the two slaves!' she said in a low tone,
But one which Baba did not like to brave,
  And yet he shudder'd, and seem'd rather prone
To prove reluctant, and begg'd leave to crave
  (Though he well knew the meaning) to be shown
What slaves her highness wish'd to indicate,
For fear of any error, like the late.

     CXIV
'The Georgian and her paramour,' replied
  The imperial bride--and added, 'Let the boat
Be ready by the secret portal's side:
  You know the rest.' The words stuck in her throat,
Despite her injured love and fiery pride;
  And of this Baba willingly took note,
And begg'd by every hair of Mahomet's beard,
She would revoke the order he had heard.

     CXV
'To hear is to obey,' he said; 'but still,
  Sultana, think upon the consequence:
It is not that I shall not all fulfil
  Your orders, even in their severest sense;
But such precipitation may end ill,
  Even at your own imperative expense:
I do not mean destruction and exposure,
In case of any premature disclosure;

     CXVI
'But your own feelings. Even should all the rest
  Be hidden by the rolling waves, which hide
Already many a once love-beaten breast
  Deep in the caverns of the deadly tide--
You love this boyish, new, seraglio guest,
  And if this violent remedy be tried--
Excuse my freedom, when I here assure you,
That killing him is not the way to cure you.'

     CXVII
'What dost thou know of love or feeling?--Wretch!
  Begone!' she cried, with kindling eyes--'and do
My bidding!' Baba vanish'd, for to stretch
  His own remonstrance further he well knew
Might end in acting as his own 'Jack Ketch;'
  And though he wish'd extremely to get through
This awkward business without harm to others,
He still preferr'd his own neck to another's.

     CXVIII
Away he went then upon his commission,
  Growling and grumbling in good Turkish phrase
Against all women of whate'er condition,
  Especially sultanas and their ways;
Their obstinacy, pride, and indecision,
  Their never knowing their own mind two days,
The trouble that they gave, their immorality,
Which made him daily bless his own neutrality.

     CXIX
And then he call'd his brethren to his aid,
  And sent one on a summons to the pair,
That they must instantly be well array'd,
  And above all be comb'd even to a hair,
And brought before the empress, who had made
  Inquiries after them with kindest care:
At which Dudu look'd strange, and Juan silly;
But go they must at once, and will I--nill I.

     CXX
And here I leave them at their preparation
  For the imperial presence, wherein whether
Gulbeyaz show'd them both commiseration,
  Or got rid of the parties altogether,
Like other angry ladies of her nation,--
  Are things the turning of a hair or feather
May settle; but far be 't from me to anticipate
In what way feminine caprice may dissipate.

     CXXI
I leave them for the present with good wishes,
  Though doubts of their well doing, to arrange
Another part of history; for the dishes
  Of this our banquet we must sometimes change;
And trusting Juan may escape the fishes,
  Although his situation now seems strange
And scarce secure, as such digressions are fair,
The Muse will take a little touch at warfare.