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LXXX.

Oh, Mirth and Innocence! Oh, Milk and Water!
Ye happy mixtures of more happy days!
In these sad centuries of sin and slaughter,
Abominable Man no more allays

His thirst with such pure beverage. No matter,
I love you both, and both shall have my praise:
Oh, for old Saturn's reign of sugar-candy!—
Meantime I drink to your return in brandy.

LXXXI.

Our Laura's Turk still kept his eyes upon her,
Less in the Mussulman than Christian way,

Which seems to say, "Madam, I do

you honour, "And while I please to stare, you'll please to stay:" Could staring win a woman, this had won her, But Laura could not thus be led astray; She had stood fire too long and well, to boggle Even at this stranger's most outlandish ogle.

LXXXII.

The morning now was on the point of breaking,
A turn of time at which I would advise
Ladies who have been dancing, or partaking
In any other kind of exercise,

To make their preparations for forsaking

The ball-room ere the sun begins to rise, Because when once the lamps and candles fail, His blushes make them look a little pale.

LXXXIII.

I've seen some balls and revels in my time,
And staid them over for some silly reason,
And then I look'd, (I hope it was no crime,)

To see what lady best stood out the season; And though I've seen some thousands in their prime, Lovely and pleasing, and who still may please on, I never saw but one, (the stars withdrawn,) Whose bloom could after dancing dare the dawn.

LXXXIV.

The name of this Aurora I'll not mention,
Although I might, for she was nought to me
More than that patent work of God's invention,
A charming woman, whom we like to see;
But writing names would merit reprehension,
Yet if you like to find out this fair she,

At the next London or Parisian ball
You still may mark her cheek, out-blooming all.

LXXXV.

Laura, who knew it would not do at all

To meet the daylight after seven hours sitting Among three thousand people at a ball,

To make her curtsy thought it right and fitting; The Count was at her elbow with her shawl,

And they the room were on the point of quitting, When lo! those cursed gondoliers had got Just in the very place where they should not.

LXXXVI.

In this they're like our coachmen, and the cause
Is much the same-the crowd, and pulling, hauling,
With blasphemies enough to break their jaws,
They make a never intermitting bawling.
At home, our Bow-street gemmen keep the laws,
And here a sentry stands within your calling;
But for all that, there is a deal of swearing,
And nauseous words past mentioning or bearing.

LXXXVII.

The Count and Laura found their boat at last,
And homeward floated o'er the silent tide,
Discussing all the dances gone and past;

The dancers and their dresses, too, beside;
Some little scandals eke: but all aghast

(As to their palace stairs the rowers glide,) Sate Laura by the side of her Adorer,

When lo! the Mussulman was there before her.

LXXXVIII.

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Sir," said the Count, with brow exceeding grave, "Your unexpected presence here will make "It necessary for myself to crave

"Its import? But perhaps 'tis 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.” "Sir," (quoth the Turk) "'tis 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 'twas very wrong?

VOL. II.

сс

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?

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 gray 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.

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