Don Juan By Lord Byron Canto XIII

At Blank-Blank Square; — for we will break no squares
  By naming streets: since men are so censorious,
And apt to sow an author's wheat with tares,
  Reaping allusions private and inglorious,
Where none were dreamt of, unto love's affairs,
  Which were, or are, or are to be notorious,
That therefore do I previously declare,
Lord Henry's mansion was in Blank-Blank Square.

Also there bin another pious reason
  For making squares and streets anonymous;
Which is, that there is scarce a single season
  Which doth not shake some very splendid house
With some slight heart-quake of domestic treason —
  A topic scandal doth delight to rouse:
Such I might stumble over unawares,
Unless I knew the very chastest squares.

'T is true, I might have chosen Piccadilly,
  A place where peccadillos are unknown;
But I have motives, whether wise or silly,
  For letting that pure sanctuary alone.
Therefore I name not square, street, place, until I
  Find one where nothing naughty can be shown,
A vestal shrine of innocence of heart:

At Henry's mansion then, in Blank-Blank Square,
  Was Juan a recherche, welcome guest,
As many other noble scions were;
  And some who had but talent for their crest;
Or wealth, which is a passport every where;
  Or even mere fashion, which indeed 's the best
Recommendation; and to be well drest
Will very often supersede the rest.

And since 'there 's safety in a multitude
  Of counsellors,' as Solomon has said,
Or some one for him, in some sage, grave mood; —
  Indeed we see the daily proof display'd
In senates, at the bar, in wordy feud,
  Where'er collective wisdom can parade,
Which is the only cause that we can guess
Of Britain's present wealth and happiness; —

But as 'there 's safety' grafted in the number
  'Of counsellors' for men, thus for the sex
A large acquaintance lets not Virtue slumber;
  Or should it shake, the choice will more perplex —
Variety itself will more encumber.
  'Midst many rocks we guard more against wrecks;
And thus with women: howsoe'er it shocks some's
Self-love, there 's safety in a crowd of coxcombs.

But Adeline had not the least occasion
  For such a shield, which leaves but little merit
To virtue proper, or good education.
  Her chief resource was in her own high spirit,
Which judged mankind at their due estimation;
  And for coquetry, she disdain'd to wear it:
Secure of admiration, its impression
Was faint, as of an every-day possession.

To all she was polite without parade;
  To some she show'd attention of that kind
Which flatters, but is flattery convey'd
  In such a sort as cannot leave behind
A trace unworthy either wife or maid; —
  A gentle, genial courtesy of mind,
To those who were, or pass'd for meritorious,
Just to console sad glory for being glorious;

Which is in all respects, save now and then,
  A dull and desolate appendage. Gaze
Upon the shades of those distinguish'd men
  Who were or are the puppet-shows of praise,
The praise of persecution; gaze again
  On the most favour'd; and amidst the blaze
Of sunset halos o'er the laurel-brow'd,
What can ye recognise? — a gilded cloud.

There also was of course in Adeline
  That calm patrician polish in the address,
Which ne'er can pass the equinoctial line
  Of any thing which nature would express;
Just as a mandarin finds nothing fine, —
  At least his manner suffers not to guess
That any thing he views can greatly please.
Perhaps we have borrow'd this from the Chinese —

Perhaps from Horace: his 'Nil admirari'
  Was what he call'd the 'Art of Happiness;'
An art on which the artists greatly vary,
  And have not yet attain'd to much success.
However, 't is expedient to be wary:
  Indifference certes don't produce distress;
And rash enthusiasm in good society
Were nothing but a moral inebriety.

But Adeline was not indifferent: for
  (Now for a common-place!) beneath the snow,
As a volcano holds the lava more
  Within — et caetera. Shall I go on? — No!
I hate to hunt down a tired metaphor,
  So let the often-used volcano go.
Poor thing! How frequently, by me and others,
It hath been stirr'd up till its smoke quite smothers!

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