LXXXVIII.

Sir," said the Count, with brow exceeding grave, 'Your unexpected presence here will make

66

It necessary for myself to crave

Its import! But perhaps 't is a mistake; I hope it is so; and at once to wave

All compliment, I hope so for your sake;

You understand my meaning, or you shall."

66

Sir," (quoth the Turk) 't is no mistake at all.

LXXXIX.

"That lady is my wife!" Much wonder paints
The lady's changing cheek, as well it might;
But where an Englishwoman sometimes faints,
Italian females don't do so outright;

They only call a little on their saints,

And then come to themselves, almost or quite; Which saves much hartshorn, salts, and sprinkling faces, And cutting stays, as usual in such cases.

XC.

She said,-what could she say? why, not a word:
But the Count courteously invited in

The stranger, much appeased by what he heard.
"Such things perhaps we 'd best discuss within,"
Said he; "don't let us make ourselves absurd
In public, by a scene, nor raise a din,

For then the chief and only satisfaction
Will be much quizzing on the whole transaction."

XCI.

They enter'd, and for coffee call'd,—it came,

A beverage for Turks and Christians both,
Although the way they make it 's not the same.
Now Laura, much recover'd, or less loth

To speak, cries "Beppo! what's your pagan name?
Bless me! your beard is of amazing growth!
And how came you to keep away so long?

Are

you

not sensible 't was very wrong?

XCII.

"And are you really, truly, now a Turk?
With any other women did you wive?
Is 't true they use their fingers for a fork?

Well, that's the prettiest shawl—as I'm alive!
You'll give it me? They say you eat no pork.
And how so many years did you contrive
To-Bless me! did I ever? No, I never
Saw a man grown so yellow! How 's

your

liver?

T

XCIII.

"Beppo! that beard of yours becomes you not,

It shall be shaved before you 're a day older; Why do you wear it? Oh! I had forgot

Pray don't you think the weather here is colder? How do I look? You sha'n't stir from this spot

In that queer dress, for fear that some beholder Should find you out, and make the story known. How short your hair is! Lord! how grey it's grown!" XCIV.

What answer Beppo made to these demands,

Is more than I know. He was cast away

About where Troy stood once, and nothing stands ;
Became a slave, of course, and for his pay

Had bread and bastinadoes, till some bands
Of pirates landing in a neighbouring bay,
He join'd the rogues and prosper'd, and became
A renegado of indifferent fame.

XCV.

But he grew rich, and with his riches grew so
Keen the desire to see his home again,
He thought himself in duty bound to do so,
And not be always thieving on the main :
Lonely he felt, at times, as Robin Crusoe ;

And so he hired a vessel come from Spain,

Bound for Corfu ; she was a fine polacca,
Mann'd with twelve hands, and laden with tobacco.

XCVI.

Himself, and much (Heaven knows how gotten) cash,
He then embark'd, with risk of life and limb,
And got clear off, although the attempt was rash;
He said that Providence protected him-
For my part, I say nothing, lest we clash

In our opinions :-well, the ship was trim,
Set sail, and kept her reckoning fairly on,
Except three days of calm when off Cape Bonn.

XCVII.

They reach'd the island, he transferr'd his lading,
And self and live-stock, to another bottom,
And pass'd for a true Turkey-merchant, trading
With goods of various names, but I 've forgot 'em.
However, he got off by this evading,

Or else the people would perhaps have shot him;

And thus at Venice landed to reclaim

His wife, religion, house, and Christian name.

XCVIII.

His wife received, the patriarch re-baptized him
(He made the church a present by the way);
He then threw off the garments which disguised him,
And borrow'd the Count's small-clothes for a day :
His friends the more for his long absence prized him,

Finding he 'd wherewithal to make them gay
With dinners, where he oft became the laugh of them
For stories,—but I don't believe the half of them.

XCIX.

Whate'er his youth had suffer'd, his old age

With wealth and talking made him some amends; Though Laura sometimes put him in a rage,

I've heard the Count and he were always friends. My pen is at the bottom of a page,

Which being finish'd, here the story ends: "T is to be wish'd it had been sooner done, But stories somehow lengthen when begun.

NOTES.

Note 1. Stanza xiv.

Like the lost Pleiad, seen no more below.
"Quæ septem dici sex tamen esse solent."-Ovid.
Note 2. Stanza xxv.

His name Giuseppe, call'd more briefly, Beppo.

Beppo is the Joe of the Italian Joseph.

Note 3. Stanza xxxvii.

The Spaniards call the person a "cortejo."

66 Cortejo " " is pronounced "corteho," with an aspirate, according to the Arabesque guttural. It means what there is as yet no precise name for in England, though the practice is as common as in any tramontane country whatever.

Note 4. Stanza xlvi.

Raphael, who died in thy embrace, and vies.

For the received accounts of the cause of Raphael's death, see his Lives.

000

MAZEPPA.