XCIV. He pored upon the leaves, and on the flowers, And heard a voice in all the winds; and then He thought of wood nymphs and immortal bowers, And how the goddesses came down to men: He miss'd the pathway, he forgot the hours, And when he look'd upon his watch again, He found how much old Time had been a winnerHe also found that he had lost his dinner. XCV. Sometimes he turn'd to gaze upon his book, As if 'twere one whereon magicians bind XCVI. Thus would he while his lonely hours away Dissatisfied, nor knowing what he wanted; Nor glowing reverie, nor poet's lay, Could yield his spirit that for which it panted, A bosom whereon he his head might lay, And hear the heart beat with the love it granted, With several other things, which I forget, Or which, at least, I need not mention yet. XCVII. Those lonely walks, and lengthening reveries, She saw that Juan was not at his ease; But that which chiefly may, and must surprise, Is, that the Donna Inez did not tease Her only son with question or surmise; Whether it was she did not see, or would not, Or, like all very clever people, could not. XCVIII. This may seem strange, but yet 'tis very common; For instance-gentlemen, whose ladies take Leave to o'erstep the written rights of woman, And break the Which commandment is't they break? (I have forgot the number, and think no man Should rashly quote, for fear of a mistake.) I say, when these same gentlemen are jealous, They make some blunder, which their ladies tell us. XCIX. A real husband always is suspicious, But still no less suspects in the wrong place, And when the spouse and friend are gone off wholly, C. Thus parents also are at times short-sighted; Though watchful as the lynx, they ne'er discover, The while the wicked world beholds delighted, Young Hopeful's mistress, or Miss Fanny's lover, Till some confounded escapade has blighted The plan of twenty years, and all is over; And then the mother cries, the father swears, And wonders why the devil he got heirs. CI. But Inez was so anxious, and so clear Of sight, that I must think, on this occasion, She had some other motive much more near For leaving Juan to this new temptation; But what that motive was, I sha'n't say here; Perhaps to finish Juan's education, Perhaps to open Don Alfonso's eyes, In case he thought his wife too great a prize. CII. It was upon a day, a summer's day ;- The sun, no doubt, is the prevailing reason; And stand convicted of more truth than treason, That there are months which nature grows more merry in, March has its hares, and May must have its heroine, CIII. 'Twas on a summer's day-the sixth of June:I like to be particular in dates, Not only of the age, and year, but moon; They are a sort of post-house, where the Fates Change horses, making history change its tune, Then spur away o'er empires and o'er states, Leaving at last not much besides chronology, Excepting the post-obits of theology. |