Don Juan By Lord Byron Canto V

'Bride of the Sun! and Sister of the Moon!'
  ('T was thus he spake) 'and Empress of the Earth!
Whose frown would put the spheres all out of tune,
  Whose smile makes all the planets dance with mirth,
Your slave brings tidings — he hopes not too soon —
  Which your sublime attention may be worth:
The Sun himself has sent me like a ray,
To hint that he is coming up this way.'

'Is it,' exclaim'd Gulbeyaz, 'as you say?
  I wish to heaven he would not shine till morning!
But bid my women form the milky way.
  Hence, my old comet! give the stars due warning —
And, Christian! mingle with them as you may,
  And as you 'd have me pardon your past scorning-'
Here they were interrupted by a humming
Sound, and then by a cry, 'The Sultan 's coming!'

First came her damsels, a decorous file,
  And then his Highness' eunuchs, black and white;
The train might reach a quarter of a mile:
  His majesty was always so polite
As to announce his visits a long while
  Before he came, especially at night;
For being the last wife of the Emperour,
She was of course the favorite of the four.

His Highness was a man of solemn port,
  Shawl'd to the nose, and bearded to the eyes,
Snatch'd from a prison to preside at court,
  His lately bowstrung brother caused his rise;
He was as good a sovereign of the sort
  As any mention'd in the histories
Of Cantemir, or Knolles, where few shine
Save Solyman, the glory of their line.

He went to mosque in state, and said his prayers
  With more than 'Oriental scrupulosity;'
He left to his vizier all state affairs,
  And show'd but little royal curiosity:
I know not if he had domestic cares —
  No process proved connubial animosity;
Four wives and twice five hundred maids, unseen,
Were ruled as calmly as a Christian queen.

If now and then there happen'd a slight slip,
  Little was heard of criminal or crime;
The story scarcely pass'd a single lip —
  The sack and sea had settled all in time,
From which the secret nobody could rip:
  The Public knew no more than does this rhyme;
No scandals made the daily press a curse —
Morals were better, and the fish no worse.

He saw with his own eyes the moon was round,
  Was also certain that the earth was square,
Because he had journey'd fifty miles, and found
  No sign that it was circular anywhere;
His empire also was without a bound:
  'T is true, a little troubled here and there,
By rebel pachas, and encroaching giaours,
But then they never came to 'the Seven Towers;'

Except in shape of envoys, who were sent
  To lodge there when a war broke out, according
To the true law of nations, which ne'er meant
  Those scoundrels, who have never had a sword in
Their dirty diplomatic hands, to vent
  Their spleen in making strife, and safely wording
Their lies, yclep'd despatches, without risk or
The singeing of a single inky whisker.

He had fifty daughters and four dozen sons,
  Of whom all such as came of age were stow'd,
The former in a palace, where like nuns
  They lived till some Bashaw was sent abroad,
When she, whose turn it was, was wed at once,
  Sometimes at six years old — though it seems odd,
'T is true; the reason is, that the Bashaw
Must make a present to his sire in law.

His sons were kept in prison, till they grew
  Of years to fill a bowstring or the throne,
One or the other, but which of the two
  Could yet be known unto the fates alone;
Meantime the education they went through
  Was princely, as the proofs have always shown:
So that the heir apparent still was found
No less deserving to be hang'd than crown'd.

His majesty saluted his fourth spouse
  With all the ceremonies of his rank,
Who clear'd her sparkling eyes and smooth'd her brows,
  As suits a matron who has play'd a prank;
These must seem doubly mindful of their vows,
  To save the credit of their breaking bank:
To no men are such cordial greetings given
As those whose wives have made them fit for heaven.

His Highness cast around his great black eyes,
  And looking, as he always look'd, perceived
Juan amongst the damsels in disguise,
  At which he seem'd no whit surprised nor grieved,
But just remark'd with air sedate and wise,
  While still a fluttering sigh Gulbeyaz heaved,
'I see you 've bought another girl; 't is pity
That a mere Christian should be half so pretty.'

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