Don Juan By Lord Byron Canto V

The lady rising up with such an air
  As Venus rose with from the wave, on them
Bent like an antelope a Paphian pair
  Of eyes, which put out each surrounding gem;
And raising up an arm as moonlight fair,
  She sign'd to Baba, who first kiss'd the hem
Of her deep purple robe, and speaking low,
Pointed to Juan who remain'd below.

Her presence was as lofty as her state;
  Her beauty of that overpowering kind,
Whose force description only would abate:
  I 'd rather leave it much to your own mind,
Than lessen it by what I could relate
  Of forms and features; it would strike you blind
Could I do justice to the full detail;
So, luckily for both, my phrases fail.

Thus much however I may add, — her years
  Were ripe, they might make six-and-twenty springs;
But there are forms which Time to touch forbears,
  And turns aside his scythe to vulgar things,
Such as was Mary's Queen of Scots; true — tears
  And love destroy; and sapping sorrow wrings
Charms from the charmer, yet some never grow
Ugly; for instance — Ninon de l'Enclos.

She spake some words to her attendants, who
  Composed a choir of girls, ten or a dozen,
And were all clad alike; like Juan, too,
  Who wore their uniform, by Baba chosen;
They form'd a very nymph-like looking crew,
  Which might have call'd Diana's chorus 'cousin,'
As far as outward show may correspond;
I won't be bail for anything beyond.

They bow'd obeisance and withdrew, retiring,
  But not by the same door through which came in
Baba and Juan, which last stood admiring,
  At some small distance, all he saw within
This strange saloon, much fitted for inspiring
  Marvel and praise; for both or none things win;
And I must say, I ne'er could see the very
Great happiness of the 'Nil Admirari.'

'Not to admire is all the art I know
  (Plain truth, dear Murray, needs few flowers of speech)
To make men happy, or to keep them so'
  (So take it in the very words of Creech) —
Thus Horace wrote we all know long ago;
  And thus Pope quotes the precept to re-teach
From his translation; but had none admired,
Would Pope have sung, or Horace been inspired?

Baba, when all the damsels were withdrawn,
  Motion'd to Juan to approach, and then
A second time desired him to kneel down,
  And kiss the lady's foot; which maxim when
He heard repeated, Juan with a frown
  Drew himself up to his full height again,
And said, 'It grieved him, but he could not stoop
To any shoe, unless it shod the Pope.'

Baba, indignant at this ill-timed pride,
  Made fierce remonstrances, and then a threat
He mutter'd (but the last was given aside)
  About a bow-string — quite in vain; not yet
Would Juan bend, though 't were to Mahomet's bride:
  There 's nothing in the world like etiquette
In kingly chambers or imperial halls,
As also at the race and county balls.

He stood like Atlas, with a world of words
  About his ears, and nathless would not bend:
The blood of all his line 's Castilian lords
  Boil'd in his veins, and rather than descend
To stain his pedigree a thousand swords
  A thousand times of him had made an end;
At length perceiving the 'foot' could not stand,
Baba proposed that he should kiss the hand.

Here was an honourable compromise,
  A half-way house of diplomatic rest,
Where they might meet in much more peaceful guise;
  And Juan now his willingness exprest
To use all fit and proper courtesies,
  Adding, that this was commonest and best,
For through the South the custom still commands
The gentleman to kiss the lady's hands.

And he advanced, though with but a bad grace,
  Though on more thorough-bred or fairer fingers
No lips e'er left their transitory trace;
  On such as these the lip too fondly lingers,
And for one kiss would fain imprint a brace,
  As you will see, if she you love shall bring hers
In contact; and sometimes even a fair stranger's
An almost twelvemonth's constancy endangers.

The lady eyed him o'er and o'er, and bade
  Baba retire, which he obey'd in style,
As if well used to the retreating trade;
  And taking hints in good part all the while,
He whisper'd Juan not to be afraid,
  And looking on him with a sort of smile,
Took leave, with such a face of satisfaction
As good men wear who have done a virtuous action.

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