As on the beach the waves at last are broke,

Thus to their extreme verge the passions brought

Dash into poetry, which is but passion,

Or at least was so ere it grew a fashion.

CVII.

If in the course of such a life as was

At once adventurous and contemplative, Men who partake all passions as they pass, Acquire the deep and bitter power to give Their images again as in a glass,

And in such colours that they seem to live; You may do right forbidding them to show'em, But spoil (I think) a very pretty poem.

CVIII..

Oh ye, who make the fortunes of all books!
Eenign ceruleans of the second sex!
Wło advertise new poems by your looks,
Your "imprimatur" will ye not annex?
What, must I go to the oblivious cooks?

Those Cornish plunderers of Parnassian wrecks?
Ah! must I then the only minstrel be
Proscribed from tasting your Castalian tea!

CIX.

What, can I prove "a lion" then no more?

A ball-room bard, a foolscap, hot-press darling? To bear the compliments of many a bore,

And sigh, "I can't get out," like Yorrick's starling; Why then I'll swear, as poet Wordy swore,

(Because the world won't read him, always snarling) That taste is gone, that fame is but a lottery, Drawn by the blue-coat misses of a coterie.

CX.

Oh! "darkly, deeply, beautifully blue,"

As some one somewhere sings about the sky, And I, ye learned ladies, say of you;

They say your stockings are so (Heaven knows why, I have examined few pairs of that hue);

Blue as the garters which serenely lie Round the Patrician left-legs, which adorn The festal midnight and the levee morn.

CXI.

Yet some of you are most seraphic creatures-
But times are alter'd since, a rhyming lover,
You read my stanzas, and I read your features:
And-but no matter, all those things are over;
Still I have no dislike to learned natures,

For sometimes such a world of virtues cover;
I know one woman of that purple school,
The loveliest, chastest, best, but-quite a fool.

CXII.

Humboldt," the first of travellers," but not
The last, if late accounts be accurate,
Invented, by some name I have forgot,
As well as the sublime discoveries date,
An airy instrument, with which he sought
To ascertain the atmospheric state,
By measuring "the intensity of blue:"
Oh! Lady Daphne! let me measure you!

CXIII.

But to the narrative: the vessel bound
With slaves to sell off in the capital,
After the usual process might be found
At anchor under the seraglio wall;

Her cargo, from the plague being safe and sound,

Were landed in the market, one and all,

And there with Georgians, Russians, and Circassians. Bought up for different purposes and passions.

CXIV.

Some went off dearly: fifteen hundred dollars
For one Circassian, a sweet girl, were given,
Warranted virgin; beauty's brightest colours

Had deck'd her out in all the hues of heaven:
Her sale sent home some disappointed bawlers,
Who bade on till the hundreds reach'd eleven;
But when the offer went beyond, they knew
"Twas for the Sultan, and at once withdrew.

CXV.

Twelve negresses from Nubia brought a price
Which the West India market scarce would bring;
Though Wilberforce, at last, has made it twice
What 'twas ere Abolition; and the thing
Need not seem very wonderful for vice

Is always much more splendid than a king:
The virtues, even the most exalted, Charity,
Are saving-vice spares nothing for a rarity.

CXVI.

But for the destiny of this young troop,

How some were bought by pachas, some by Jews, How some to burdens were obliged to stoop, And others rose to the command of crews As renegadoes; while in hapless group, Hoping no very old vizier might choose, The females stood, as one by one they pick'd 'em, To make a mistress, or fourth wife, or victim:

CXVII.

All this must be reserv'd for further song;
Also our hero's lot, howe'er unpleasant,
(Because this Canto has become too long,)
Must be postponed discreetly for the present;
I'm sensible redundancy is wrong,

But could not for the muse of me put less in't:
And now delay the progress of Don Juan,
Till what is called in Ossian the fifth Duan.

END OF CANTO IV.