Selected Works of George Gordon, Lord Byron

     LXXVI
The noblest kind of love is love Platonical,
  To end or to begin with; the next grand
Is that which may be christen'd 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 call'd marriage in disguise.

     LXXVII
Well, we won't analyse--our story must
  Tell for itself: the sovereign was smitten,
Juan much flatter'd by her love, or lust;--
  I cannot stop to alter words once written,
And the two are so mix'd 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 curl'd much crisper
  As they beheld; the younger cast some leers
On one another, and each lovely lisper
  Smiled as she talk'd the matter o'er; but tears
Of rivalship rose in each clouded eye
Of all the standing army who stood by.

     LXXIX
All the ambassadors of all the powers
  Enquired, 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.

     LXXX
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)--

     LXXXI
Love had made Catherine make each lover's fortune,
  Unlike our own half-chaste Elizabeth,
Whose avarice all disbursements did importune,
  If history, the grand liar, ever saith
The truth; and though grief her old age might shorten,
  Because she put a favourite to death,
Her vile, ambiguous method of flirtation,
And stinginess, disgrace her sex and station.

     LXXXII
But when the levee rose, and all was bustle
  In the dissolving circle, all the nations'
Ambassadors began as 't were to hustle
  Round the young man with their congratulations.
Also the softer silks were heard to rustle
  Of gentle dames, among whose recreations
It is to speculate on handsome faces,
Especially when such lead to high places.

     LXXXIII
Juan, who found himself, he knew not how,
  A general object of attention, made
His answers with a very graceful bow,
  As if born for the ministerial trade.
Though modest, on his unembarrass'd brow
  Nature had written 'gentleman.' He said
Little, but to the purpose; and his manner
Flung hovering graces o'er him like a banner.

     LXXXIV
An order from her majesty consign'd
  Our young lieutenant to the genial care
Of those in office: all the world look'd kind
  (As it will look sometimes with the first stare,
Which youth would not act ill to keep in mind),
  As also did Miss Protasoff then there,
Named from her mystic office 'l'Eprouveuse,'
A term inexplicable to the Muse.

     LXXXV
With her then, as in humble duty bound,
  Juan retired,--and so will I, until
My Pegasus shall tire of touching ground.
  We have just lit on a 'heaven-kissing hill,'
So lofty that I feel my brain turn round,
  And all my fancies whirling like a mill;
Which is a signal to my nerves and brain,
To take a quiet ride in some green Lane.