XLIV.

Juan was taught from out the best edition,
Expurgated by learned men, who place,
Judiciously, from out the schoolboy's vision,
The grosser parts; but fearful to deface
Too much their modest bard by this omission,
And pitying sore his mutilated case,

They only add them all in an appendix, (4) ·
Which saves, in fact, the trouble of an index;

XLV.

For there we have them all at one fell swoop, Instead of being scatter'd through the pages; They stand forth marshall'd in a handsome troop, To meet the ingenuous youth of future ages, Till some less rigid editor shall stoop

To call them back into their separate cages, Instead of standing staring altogether,

Like garden gods-and not so decent either.

XLVI.

The Missal too (it was the family Missal)

Was ornamented in a sort of way

Which ancient mass-books often are, and this all
Kinds of grotesques illumined; and how they,
Who saw those figures on the margin kiss all,
Could turn their optics to the text and pray
Is more than I know-but Don Juan's mother
Kept this herself, and gave her son another.

XLVII.

Sermons he read, and lectures he endured,
And homilies, and lives of all the saints;
To Jerome and to Chrysostom inured,

He did not take such studies for restraints;
But how faith is acquired, and then insured,
So well not one of the aforesaid paints
As Saint Augustine in his fine Confessions,
Which make the reader envy his transgressions.

XLVIII.

This, too, was a seal'd book to little Juan-
I can't but say that his mamma was right,
If such an education was the true one.

She scarcely trusted him from out her sight;
Her maids were old, and if she took a new one

You might be sure she was a perfect fright, She did this during even her husband's life— I recommend as much to every wife.

XLIX.

Young Juan wax'd in goodliness and grace;
At six a charming child, and at eleven
With all the promise of as fine a face

As e'er to man's maturer growth was given:

He studied steadily, and grew apace,

And seem'd, at least, in the right road to heaven, For half his days were pass'd at church, the other Between his tutors, confessor, and mother.

L.

At six, I said, he was a charming child,

At twelve he was a fine, but quiet boy; Although in infancy a little wild,

They tamed him down amongst them; to destroy His natural spirit not in vain they toil'd,

At least it seem'd so; and his mother's joy Was to declare how sage, and still, and steady, Her young philosopher was grown already.

LI.

I had my doubts, perhaps I have them still,
But what I say is neither here nor there :
I knew his father well, and have some skill
In character-but it would not be fair

From sire to son to augur good or ill:

He and his wife were an ill-sorted pairBut scandal's aversion-I protest

my

Against all evil speaking, even in jest.

LII.

For my part I say nothing-nothing-but

This I will say—my reasons are my ownThat if I had an only son to put

To school (as God be praised that I have none) "Tis not with Donna Inez I would shut

Him up to learn his catechism alone, No-no-I'd send him out betimes to college, For there it was I pick'd up my own knowledge.

LIII.

For there one learns-'tis not for me to boast,

Though I acquired—but I pass over that,

As well as all the Greek I since have lost :

I say that there's the place-but " Verbum sat,"

I think I pick'd up too, as well as most,

Knowledge of matters-but no matter what

I never married-but, I think, I know

That sons should not be educated so.