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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

XCIV.

grown!"

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."

" 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.

MAZEPPA.

ADVERTISEMENT.

“Celui qui remplissait alors cette place était un gentilhomme polonais, nommé Mazeppa, né dans le palatinat de Padolie; il avait été élevé page de Jean-Casimir, et avait pris à sa cour quelque teinture des belles-lettres. Une intrigue qu'il eut dans sa jeunesse avec la femme d'un gentilhomme polonais ayant été découverte, le mari le fit lier tout nu sur un cheval farouche, et le laissa aller en cet état. Le cheval, qui était du pays de l'Ukraine, y retourna, et y porta Mazeppa demi-mort de fatigue et de faim. Quelques paysans le secoururent : il resta longtemps parmi eux, et se signala dans plusieurs courses contre les Tartares. La supériorité de ses lumières lui donna une grande considération parmi les Cosaques : sa réputation, s'augmentant de jour en jour, obligea le czar à le faire prince de l'Ukraine."

Voltaire, Histoire de Charles XII, p. 196.

"Le roi, fuyant et poursuivi, eut son cheval tué sous lui; le colonel Gieta, blessé et perdant tout son sang, lui donna le sien. Ainsi on remit deux fois à cheval, dans la fuite, ce conquérant qui n'avait pu y monter pendant la bataille.”

Voltaire, Histoire de Charles XII, p. 216.

"Le roi alla par un autre chemin avec quelques cavaliers. Le carrosse où il était rompit dans la marche : on le remit à cheval. Pour comble de disgrace, il s'égara pendant la nuit dans un bois; là, son courage ne pouvant plus suppléer à ses forces épuisées, les douleurs de sa blessure devenues plus insupportables par la fatigue, son cheval étant tombé de lassitude, il se coucha quelques heures au pied d'un arbre, en danger d'être surpris à tout moment par les vainqueurs qui le cherchaient de tous côtés."

Voltaire, Histoire de Charles XII, p. 218.

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