CXXXI.

*

CXXXII.

This is the patent age of new inventions
For killing bodies, and for saving souls,
All propagated with the best intentions;

Sir Humphrey Davy's lantern, by which coals
Are safely mined for in the mode he mentions;
Tombuctoo travels, voyages to the Poles,
to benefit mankind, as true,
Perhaps, as shooting them at Waterloo.

Are ways

CXXXIII.

Man's a phenomenon, one knows not what, And wonderful beyond all wondrous measure; 'Tis pity though, in this sublime world, that

Pleasure's a sin, and sometimes sin's a pleasure; Few mortals know what end they would be at,

But whether glory, power, or love, or treasure; The path is through perplexing ways, and when The goal is gain'd, we die, you know-and then

CXXXIV.

What then?-I do not know, no more do youAnd so good night.-Return we to our story: "Twas in November, when fine days are few,

And the far mountains wax a little hoary, And clap a white cape on their mantles blue;

And the sea dashes round the promontory, And the loud breaker boils against the rock, And sober suns must set at five o'clock.

CXXXV.

'Twas, as the watchmen say, a cloudy night;

No moon, no stars, the wind was low or loud
By gusts, and many a sparkling hearth was bright
With the piled wood, round which the family crowd;
There's something cheerful in that sort of light,

Even as a summer's sky's without a cloud:
I'm fond of fire, and crickets, and all that,
A lobster, salad, and champaigne, and chat.

CXXXVI.

'Twas midnight-Donna Julia was in bed, Sleeping, most probably,-when at her door Arose a clatter might awake the dead,

If they had never been awoke before,

And that they have been so we all have read,

And are to be so, at the least, once more—

The door was fasten'd, but with voice and fist,
First knocks were heard, then "Madam-Madam-hist!

CXXXVII.

"For God's sake, Madam-Madam-here's my master, With more than half the city at his backWas ever heard of such a curst disaster!

'Tis not my fault-I kept good watch-Alack!

Do, pray undo the bolt a little faster

They're on the stair just now, and in a crack Will all be here; perhaps he yet may flySurely the window's not so very high!"

CXXXVIII.

By this time Don Alfonzo was arrived,

With torches, friends, and servants in great number;

The major part of them had long been wived,

And therefore paused not to disturb the slumber Of any wicked woman, who contrived

By stealth her husband's temples to encumber: Examples of this kind are so contagious,

Were one not punish'd, all would be outrageous.

CXXXIX.

I can't tell how, or why, or what suspicion
Could enter into Don Alfonzo's head;
But for a cavalier of his condition

It surely was exceedingly ill-bred,
Without a word of previous admonition,
To hold a levee round his lady's bed,
And summon lackeys, arm'd with fire and sword,
To prove himself the thing he most abhor'd.

CXL.

Poor Donna Julia! starting as from sleep,

(Mind-that I do not say-she had not slept)
Began at once to scream, and yawn, and weep;
Her maid Antonia, who was an adept,
Contrived to fling the bed-clothes in a heap,
As if she had just now from out them crept:
I can't tell why she should take all this trouble
To prove her mistress had been sleeping double.

CXLI.

But Julia mistress, and Antonia maid,

Appear'd like two poor harmless women, who Of goblins, but still more of men afraid,

Had thought one man might be deterr'd by two, And therefore side by side were gently laid, Until the hours of absence should run through, And truant husband should return, and say, . My dear, I was the first who came away."

CXLII.

Now Julia found at length a voice, and cried,

"In heaven's name, Don Alfonso, what d'ye mean? Has madness seized you? would that I had died Ere such a monster's victim I had been! What may this midnight violence betide, A sudden fit of drunkenness or spleen? Dare you suspect me, whom the thought would kill? Search, then, the room!"-Alfonso said, "I will."

CXLIII.

He search'd, they search'd, and rummaged every where, Closet and clothes'-press, chest and window-seat, And found much linen, lace, and several pair

Of stockings, slippers, brushes, combs, complete, With other articles of ladies fair,

To keep them beautiful, or leave them neat: Arras they prick'd and curtains with their swords, And wounded several shutters, and some boards.

CXLIV.

Under the bed they search'd, and there they found-
No matter what-it was not that they sought:
They open'd windows, gazing if the ground

Had signs or footmarks, but the earth said nought;
And then they stared each other's faces round:
'Tis odd, not one of all these seekers thought,
And seems to me almost a sort of blunder,
Of looking in the bed as well as under.

CXLV.

During this inquisition Julia's tongue

Was not asleep-"Yes, search and search," she cried, "Insult on insult heap, and wrong on wrong!

It was for this that I became a bride!

For this in silence I have suffer'd long

A husband like Alfonso at my side;
But now I'll bear no more, nor here remain,
If there be law, or lawyers, in all Spain.

CXLVI.

"Yes, Don Alfonso! husband now no more,
If ever you indeed deserved the name,
Is't worthy of your years?—you have three score,
Fifty, or sixty-it is all the same-

Is't wise or fitting causeless to explore

For facts against a virtuous woman's fame? Ungrateful, perjured, barbarous Don Alfonso, How dare you think your lady would go on so?

CXLVII.

"Is it for this I have disdain'd to hold

The common privileges of my sex?
That I have chosen a confessor so old

And deaf, that any other it would vex,
And never once he has had cause to scold,
But found my very innocence perplex
So much, he always doubted I was married-
How sorry you will be when I've miscarried!

CXLVIII.

"Was it for this that no Cortejo ere

I yet have chosen from out the youth of Seville? Is it for this I scarce went any where,

Except to bull-fights, mass, play, rout, and revel? Is it for this, whate'er my suitors were,

I favour'd none-nay, was almost uncivil? Is it for this that General Count O'Reilly, Who took Algiers, declares I used him vilely?