Don Juan By Lord Byron Canto XV

But 'laissez aller' — knights and dames I sing,
  Such as the times may furnish. 'T is a flight
Which seems at first to need no lofty wing,
  Plumed by Longinus or the Stagyrite:
The difficultly lies in colouring
  (Keeping the due proportions still in sight)
With nature manners which are artificial,
And rend'ring general that which is especial.

The difference is, that in the days of old
  Men made the manners; manners now make men —
Pinn'd like a flock, and fleeced too in their fold,
  At least nine, and a ninth beside of ten.
Now this at all events must render cold
  Your writers, who must either draw again
Days better drawn before, or else assume
The present, with their common-place costume.

We 'll do our best to make the best on 't: — March!
  March, my Muse! If you cannot fly, yet flutter;
And when you may not be sublime, be arch,
  Or starch, as are the edicts statesmen utter.
We surely may find something worth research:
  Columbus found a new world in a cutter,
Or brigantine, or pink, of no great tonnage,
While yet America was in her non-age.

When Adeline, in all her growing sense
  Of Juan's merits and his situation,
Felt on the whole an interest intense, —
  Partly perhaps because a fresh sensation,
Or that he had an air of innocence,
  Which is for innocence a sad temptation, —
As women hate half measures, on the whole,
She 'gan to ponder how to save his soul.

She had a good opinion of advice,
  Like all who give and eke receive it gratis,
For which small thanks are still the market price,
  Even where the article at highest rate is:
She thought upon the subject twice or thrice,
  And morally decided, the best state is
For morals, marriage; and this question carried,
She seriously advised him to get married.

Juan replied, with all becoming deference,
  He had a predilection for that tie;
But that, at present, with immediate reference
  To his own circumstances, there might lie
Some difficulties, as in his own preference,
  Or that of her to whom he might apply:
That still he 'd wed with such or such a lady,
If that they were not married all already.

Next to the making matches for herself,
  And daughters, brothers, sisters, kith or kin,
Arranging them like books on the same shelf,
  There 's nothing women love to dabble in
More (like a stock-holder in growing pelf)
  Than match-making in general: 't is no sin
Certes, but a preventative, and therefore
That is, no doubt, the only reason wherefore.

But never yet (except of course a miss
  Unwed, or mistress never to be wed,
Or wed already, who object to this)
  Was there chaste dame who had not in her head
Some drama of the marriage unities,
  Observed as strictly both at board and bed
As those of Aristotle, though sometimes
They turn out melodrames or pantomimes.

They generally have some only son,
  Some heir to a large property, some friend
Of an old family, some gay Sir john,
  Or grave Lord George, with whom perhaps might end
A line, and leave posterity undone,
  Unless a marriage was applied to mend
The prospect and their morals: and besides,
They have at hand a blooming glut of brides.

From these they will be careful to select,
  For this an heiress, and for that a beauty;
For one a songstress who hath no defect,
  For t' other one who promises much duty;
For this a lady no one can reject,
  Whose sole accomplishments were quite a booty;
A second for her excellent connections;
A third, because there can be no objections.

When Rapp the Harmonist embargo'd marriage
  In his harmonious settlement (which flourishes
Strangely enough as yet without miscarriage,
  Because it breeds no more mouths than it nourishes,
Without those sad expenses which disparage
  What Nature naturally most encourages) —
Why call'd he 'Harmony' a state sans wedlock?
Now here I 've got the preacher at a dead lock.

Because he either meant to sneer at harmony
  Or marriage, by divorcing them thus oddly.
But whether reverend Rapp learn'd this in Germany
  Or no, 't is said his sect is rich and godly,
Pious and pure, beyond what I can term any
  Of ours, although they propagate more broadly.
My objection 's to his title, not his ritual,
Although I wonder how it grew habitual.

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