XXVI.

All there was as he left it: still his taper
Burnt, and not blue, as modest tapers use,
Receiving sprites with sympathetic vapour;

He rubb'd his eyes, and they did not refuse
Their office; he took up an old newspaper;

The paper was right easy to peruse; He read an article the king attacking, And a long eulogy of "patent blacking."

XXVII.

This savour'd of this world; but his hand shook
He shut his door, and after having read
A paragraph, I think about Horne Tooke,

Undrest, and rather slowly went to bed.
There, couch'd all snugly on his pillow's nook,
With what he had seen his phantasy he fed;
And though it was no opiate, slumber crept
Upon him by degrees, and so he slept.

XXVIII.

He woke betimes; and, as may be supposed,
Ponder'd upon his visitant or vision,
And whether it ought not to be disclosed,

At risk of being quizz'd for superstition.
The more he thought, the more his mind was posed:
In the mean time, his valet, whose precision
Was great, because his master brook'd no less,
Knock'd to inform him it was time to dress.

XXIX.

He dress'd; and like young people he was wont
To take some trouble with his toilet, but
This morning rather spent less time upon't;
Aside his very mirror soon was put ;

His curls fell negligently o'er his front,

His clothes were not curb'd to their usual cut, His very neckcloth's Gordian knot was tied Almost an hair's breadth too much on one side

XXX.

And when he walk'd down into the saloon,
He sate him pensive o'er a dish of tea,
Which he perhaps had not discover'd soon,
Had it not happen'd scalding hot to be,
Which made him have recourse unto his spoon ;
So much distrait he was, that all could see
That something was the matter - Adeline
The first-but what she could not well divine.

XXXI.

She look'd, and saw him pale, and turn'd as pale Herself; then hastily look'd down, and mutter'd Something, but what's not stated in my tale.

Lord Henry said, his muffin was ill butter'd; The Duchess of Fitz-Fulke play'd with her veil, And look'd at Juan hard, but nothing utter'd. Aurora Raby with her large dark eyes Survey'd him with a kind of calm surprise.

XXXII.

But seeing him all cold and silent still,
And every body wondering more or less,
Fair Adeline enquired, " If he were ill?”

He started, and said, "Yes-no-rather-yes." The family physician had great skill,

And being present, now began to express His readiness to feel his pulse and tell

The cause, but Juan said, “ He was quite well.”

XXXIII.

"Quite well; yes,-no.". - These answers were

mysterious,

And yet his looks appear'd to sanction both, However they might savour of delirious; Something like illness of a sudden growth Weigh'd on his spirit, though by no means serious: But for the rest, as he himself seem'd loth To state the case, it might be ta'en for granted It was not the physician that he wanted.

XXXIV.

Lord Henry, who had now discuss'd his chocolate, Also the muffin whereof he complain'd,

Said, Juan had not got his usual look elate,

At which he marvell'd, since it had not rain'd; Then ask'd her Grace what news were of the duke

of late?

Her Grace replied, his Grace was rather pain'd With some slight, light, hereditary twinges

Of gout, which rusts aristocratic hinges.

XXXV.

your rest

Then Henry turn'd to Juan, and address'd
A few words of condolence on his state:
"You look," quoth he, "as if you had had
Broke in upon by the Black Friar of late."
"What friar?" said Juan; and he did his best
To put the question with an air sedate,
Or careless; but the effort was not valid
To hinder him from growing still more pallid.

XXXVI.

"Oh! have you never heard of the Black Friar? (1) The spirit of these walls?"- "In truth not I."

Why Fame-but Fame you know's sometimes a
Tells an odd story, of which by and by: [liar-
Whether with time the spectre has grown shyer,
Or that our sires had a more gifted eye

For such sights, though the tale is half believed,
The friar of late has not been oft perceived.

"The last time was

XXXVII.

"I pray," said Adeline(Who watch'd the changes of Don Juan's brow, And from its context thought she could divine Connections stronger than he chose to avow With this same legend)—" if you but design

To jest, you'll choose some other theme just now, Because the present tale has oft been told, And is not much improved by growing old."

(1) [During a visit to Newstead, in 1814, Lord Byron actually fancied he saw the ghost of the Black Friar, which was supposed to have haunted the Abbey from the time of the dissolution of the monasteries. MOORE.]

XXXVIII.

"Jest!" quoth Milor; "why, Adeline, you know That we ourselves-'t was in the honey moonSaw- .”—“ Well, no matter, 'twas so long ago; But, come, I'll set your story to a tune."

Graceful as Dian, when she draws her bow,

She seized her harp, whose strings were kindled soon As touch'd, and plaintively began to play

The air of ""Twas a Friar of Orders Gray."

XXXIX.

"But add the words," cried Henry, "which you made; For Adeline is half a poetess,"

Turning round to the rest, he smiling said.

Of course the others could not but express In courtesy their wish to see display'd

By one three talents, for there were no less — The voice, the words, the harper's skill, at once Could hardly be united by a dunce.

XL.

After some fascinating hesitation, —

The charming of these charmers, who seem bound,

I can't tell why, to this dissimulation, —
Fair Adeline, with eyes fix'd on the ground
At first, then kindling into animation,

Added her sweet voice to the lyric sound,
And sang with much simplicity,—a merit
Not the less precious, that we seldom hear it.