CLXXXIV.

Dire was the scuffle, and out went the light,
Antonia cried out "Rape!" and Julia “Fire!”
But not a servant stirr'd to aid the fight.
Alfonso, pommell'd to his heart's desire,

Swore lustily he'd be revenged this night;

And Juan, too, blasphemed an octave higher, His blood was up; though young, he was a Tartar, And not at all disposed to prove a martyr.

CLXXXV.

Alfonso's sword had dropp'd ere he could draw it, And they continued battling hand to hand,

For Juan very luckily ne'er saw it;

His temper not being under great command, If at that moment he had chanced to claw it,

Alfonso's days had not been in the land

Much longer.-Think of husbands', lovers' lives! And how ye may be doubly widows-wives!

CLXXXVI.

Alfonso grappled to detain the foe,

And Juan throttled him to get away,

And blood ('twas from the nose) began to flow;
At last, as they more faintly wrestling lay,
Juan contrived to give an awkward blow,

And then his only garment quite gave way;
He fled, like Joseph, leaving it; but there,
I doubt, all likeness ends between the pair.

CLXXXVII.

Lights came at length, and men, and maids, who found An awkward spectacle their eyes before;

Antonia in hysterics, Julia swoon'd,

Alfonso leaning, breathless, by the door;
Some half-torn drapery scatter'd on the ground,
Some blood, and several footsteps, but no more:
Juan the gate gain'd, turn'd the key about,
And liking not the inside, lock'd the out.

CLXXXVIII.

Here ends this canto.-Need I sing, or say,

How Juan, naked, favour'd by the night,
Who favours what she should not, found his way,
And reach'd his home in an unseemly plight?

The pleasant scandal which arose next day,

The nine days' wonder which was brought to light, And how Alfonso sued for a divorce,

Were in the English newspapers, of course.

CLXXXIX.

If you would like to see the whole proceedings,
The depositions, and the cause at full,
The names of all the witnesses, the pleadings
Of counsel to nonsuit, or to annul,

There's more than one edition, and the readings
Are various, but they none of them are dull,
The best is that in shorthand ta'en by Gurney,
Who to Madrid on purpose made a journey.

H

CXC.

But Donna Inez, to divert the train

Of one of the most circulating scandals That had for centuries been known in Spain,

At least since the retirement of the Vandals, First vow'd (and never had she vow'd in vain)

To Virgin Mary several pounds of candles; And then, by the advice of some old ladies, She sent her son to be shipp'd off from Cadiz.

CXCI.

She had resolved that he should travel through
All European climes, by land or sea,
To mend his former morals, and get new,
Especially in France and Italy,

(At least this is the thing most people do.)

Julia was sent into a convent; she

Grieved, but, perhaps, her feelings may be better

Shown in the following copy of her letter:

CXCII.

66

They tell me 'tis decided; you depart : ""Tis wise-'tis well, but not the less a pain; “I have no further claim on your young heart, "Mine is the victim, and would be again; "To love too much has been the only art

"I used;-I write in haste, and if a stain

"Be on this sheet, 'tis not what it appears,
"My eyeballs burn and throb, but have no tears.

CXCIII.

"I loved, I love you, for this love have lost "State, station, heaven, mankind's, my own esteem,

"And yet can not regret what it hath cost,

66

"So dear is still the memory of that dream;

"Yet, if I name my guilt, 'tis not to boast,

"None can deem harshlier of me than I deem :

"I trace this scrawl because I cannot rest

"I've nothing to reproach, or to request.