XI. But next to dressing for a rout or ball, Thoughts quite as yellow, but less clear than amber. Titus exclaim'd, "I've lost a day!" Of all The nights and days most people can remember, (I have had of both, some not to be disdain'd,) I wish they'd state how many they have gain'd, XII. And Juan, on retiring for the night, Felt restless, and perplex'd, and compromised: He thought Aurora Raby's eyes more bright Than Adeline (such is advice) advised; If he had known exactly his own plight, He probably would have philosophised; A great resource to all, and ne'er denied Till wanted; therefore Juan only sigh'd. XIII. He sigh'd;—the next resource is the full moon, It happen'd luckily, the chaste orb shone To hail her with the apostrophe-"O thou!" Of amatory egotism the Tuism, Which further to explain would be a truism. (1) [See Ovid. Epist. ix.] XIV. But lover, poet, or astronomer, Shepherd, or swain, whoever may behold, Deep secrets to her rolling light are told; XV. Juan felt somewhat pensive, and disposed Below his window waved (of course) a willow; XVI. Upon his table or his toilet,-which XVII. Then, as the night was clear though cold, he threw His chamber door wide openInto a gallery, of a sombre hue, and went forth Long, furnish'd with old pictures of great worth, Of knights and dames heroic and chaste too, As doubtless should be people of high birth. But by dim lights the portraits of the dead Have something ghastly, desolate, and dread. XVIII. The forms of the grim knight and pictured saint Of your own footsteps-voices from the urn Start from the frames which fence their aspects: As if to ask how you can dare to keep [stern, A vigil there, where all but death should sleep. XIX. And the pale smile of beauties in the grave, The charms of other days, in starlight gleams, Glimmer on high; their buried locks still wave Along the canvass; their eyes glance like dreams On ours, or spars within some dusky cave, But death is imaged in their shadowy beams. XX. As Juan mused on mutability, Or on his mistress-terms synonymousNo sound except the echo of his sigh Or step ran sadly through that antique house; Whose little nibbling rustle will embarrass XXI. It was no mouse, but lo! a monk, array'd In cowl and beads, and dusky garb, appear'd, Now in the moonlight, and now lapsed in shade, With steps that trod as heavy, yet unheard; His garments only a slight murmur made; He moved as shadowy as the sisters weird, (1) But slowly; and as he passed Juan by, Glanced, without pausing, on him a bright eye. XXII. Juan was petrified; he had heard a hint But thought, like most men, there was nothing in't Which passes ghosts in currency like gold, But rarely seen, like gold compared with paper. And did he see this? or was it a vapour? (1) ["Shew his eyes, and grieve his heart; Come like shadows, so depart." — Macbeth.] XXIII. Once, twice, thrice pass'd, repass'd-the thing of air, Or earth beneath, or heaven, or t'other place; And Juan gazed upon it with a stare, Yet could not speak or move; but, on its base As stands a statue, stood: he felt his hair Twine like a knot of snakes around his face; He tax'd his tongue for words, which were not granted, To ask the reverend person what he wanted. XXIV. The third time, after a still longer pause, The shadow pass'd away-but where? the hall Was long, and thus far there was no great cause To think his vanishing unnatural: Doors there were many, through which, by the laws Might come or go; but Juan could not state XXV. He stood how long he knew not, but it seem'd An age-expectant, powerless, with his eyes Strain'd on the spot where first the figure gleam'd; Then by degrees recall'd his energies, And would have pass'd the whole off as a dream, But could not wake; he was, he did surmise, Waking already, and return'd at length Back to his chamber, shorn of half his strength. |