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George Gordon Byron - Don Juan: Canto The Fifth
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All phantasies which yielded joy or mirth,
Had been her slaves` chief pleasure, as her will;
Her blood was high, her beauty scarce of earth:
Judge, then, if her caprices e`er stood still;
Had she but been a Christian, I `ve a notion
We should have found out the `perpetual motion.` 

Whate`er she saw and coveted was brought;
Whate`er she did not see, if she supposed
It might be seen, with diligence was sought,
And when `t was found straightway the bargain closed;
There was no end unto the things she bought,
Nor to the trouble which her fancies caused;
Yet even her tyranny had such a grace,
The women pardon`d all except her face. 

Juan, the latest of her whims, had caught
Her eye in passing on his way to sale;
She order`d him directly to be bought,
And Baba, who had ne`er been known to fail
In any kind of mischief to be wrought,
At all such auctions knew how to prevail:
She had no prudence, but he had; and this
Explains the garb which Juan took amiss. 

His youth and features favour`d the disguise,
And, should you ask how she, a sultan`s bride,
Could risk or compass such strange phantasies,
This I must leave sultanas to decide:
Emperors are only husbands in wives` eyes,
And kings and consorts oft are mystified,
As we may ascertain with due precision,
Some by experience, others by tradition. 

But to the main point, where we have been tending:-
She now conceived all difficulties past,
And deem`d herself extremely condescending
When, being made her property at last,
Without more preface, in her blue eyes blending
Passion and power, a glance on him she cast,
And merely saying, `Christian, canst thou love?`
Conceived that phrase was quite enough to move 

And so it was, in proper time and place;
But Juan, who had still his mind o`erflowing
With Haidee`s isle and soft Ionian face,
Felt the warm blood, which in his face was glowing,
Rush back upon his heart, which fill`d apace,
And left his cheeks as pale as snowdrops blowing;
These words went through his soul like Arab-spears,
So that he spoke not, but burst into tears. 

She was a good deal shock`d; not shock`d at tears,
For women shed and use them at their liking;
But there is something when man`s eye appears
Wet, still more disagreeable and striking;
A woman`s tear-drop melts, a man`s half sears,
Like molten lead, as if you thrust a pike in
His heart to force it out, for (to be shorter)
To them `t is a relief, to us a torture. 

And she would have consoled, but knew not how:
Having no equals, nothing which had e`er
Infected her with sympathy till now,
And never having dreamt what `t was to bear
Aught of a serious, sorrowing kind, although
There might arise some pouting petty care
To cross her brow, she wonder`d how so near
Her eyes another`s eye could shed a tear. 

But nature teaches more than power can spoil,
And, when a strong although a strange sensation
Moves- female hearts are such a genial soil
For kinder feelings, whatsoe`er their nation,
They naturally pour the `wine and oil,`
Samaritans in every situation;
And thus Gulbeyaz, though she knew not why,
Felt an odd glistening moisture in her eye. 

But tears must stop like all things else; and soon
Juan, who for an instant had been moved
To such a sorrow by the intrusive tone
Of one who dared to ask if `he had loved,`
Call`d back the stoic to his eyes, which shone
Bright with the very weakness he reproved;
And although sensitive to beauty, he
Felt most indignant still at not being free. 

Gulbeyaz, for the first time in her days,
Was much embarrass`d, never having met
In all her life with aught save prayers and praise;
And as she also risk`d her life to get
Him whom she meant to tutor in love`s ways
Into a comfortable tete-a-tete,
To lose the hour would make her quite a martyr,
And they had wasted now almost a quarter. 

I also would suggest the fitting time
To gentlemen in any such like case,
That is to say in a meridian clime-
With us there is more law given to the chase,
But here a small delay forms a great crime:
So recollect that the extremest grace
Is just two minutes for your declaration-
A moment more would hurt your reputation. 

Juan`s was good; and might have been still better,
But he had got Haidee into his head:
However strange, he could not yet forget her,
Which made him seem exceedingly ill-bred.
Gulbeyaz, who look`d on him as her debtor
For having had him to her palace led,
Began to blush up to the eyes, and then
Grow deadly pale, and then blush back again. 

At length, in an imperial way, she laid
Her hand on his, and bending on him eyes
Which needed not an empire to persuade,
Look`d into his for love, where none replies:
Her brow grew black, but she would not upbraid,
That being the last thing a proud woman tries;
She rose, and pausing one chaste moment, threw
Herself upon his breast, and there she grew. 

This was an awkward test, as Juan found,
But he was steel`d by sorrow, wrath, and pride:
With gentle force her white arms he unwound,
And seated her all drooping by his side,
Then rising haughtily he glanced around,
And looking coldly in her face, he cried,
`The prison`d eagle will not pair, nor
Serve a Sultana`s sensual phantasy. 

`Thou ask`st if I can love? be this the proof
How much I have loved- that I love not thee!
In this vile garb, the distaff, web, and woof,
Were fitter for me: Love is for the free!
I am not dazzled by this splendid roof,
Whate`er thy power, and great it seems to be;
Heads bow, knees bend, eyes watch around a throne,
And hands obey- our hearts are still our own.` 

This was a truth to us extremely trite;
Not so to her, who ne`er had heard such things:
She deem`d her least command must yield delight,
Earth being only made for queens and kings.
If hearts lay on the left side or the right
She hardly knew, to such perfection brings
Legitimacy its born votaries, when
Aware of their due royal rights o`er men. 

Besides, as has been said, she was so fair
As even in a much humbler lot had made
A kingdom or confusion anywhere,
And also, as may be presumed, she laid
Some stress on charms, which seldom are, if e`er,
By their possessors thrown into the shade:
She thought hers gave a double `right divine;`
And half of that opinion `s also mine. 

Remember, or (if you can not) imagine,
Ye, who have kept your chastity when young,
While some more desperate dowager has been waging
Love with you, and been in the dog-days stung
By your refusal, recollect her raging!
Or recollect all that was said or sung
On such a subject; then suppose the face
Of a young downright beauty in this case. 

Suppose,- but you already have supposed,
The spouse of Potiphar, the Lady Booby,
Phaedra, and all which story has disclosed
Of good examples; pity that so few by
Poets and private tutors are exposed,
To educate- ye youth of Europe- you by!
But when you have supposed the few we know,
You can`t suppose Gulbeyaz` angry brow. 

A tigress robb`d of young, a lioness,
Or any interesting beast of prey,
Are similes at hand for the distress
Of ladies who can not have their own way;
But though my turn will not be served with less,
These don`t express one half what I should say:
For what is stealing young ones, few or many,
To cutting short their hopes of having any? 

The love of offspring `s nature`s general law,
From tigresses and cubs to ducks and ducklings;
There `s nothing whets the beak, or arms the claw
Like an invasion of their babes and sucklings;
And all who have seen a human nursery, saw
How mothers love their children`s squalls and chucklings;
This strong extreme effect (to tire no longer
Your patience) shows the cause must still be stronger. 

If I said fire flash`d from Gulbeyaz` eyes,
`T were nothing- for her eyes flash`d always fire;
Or said her cheeks assumed the deepest dyes,
I should but bring disgrace upon the dyer,
So supernatural was her passion`s rise;
For ne`er till now she knew a check`d desire:
Even ye who know what a check`d woman is
(Enough, God knows!) would much fall short of this. 

Her rage was but a minute`s, and `t was well-
A moment`s more had slain her; but the while
It lasted `t was like a short glimpse of hell:
Nought `s more sublime than energetic bile,
Though horrible to see yet grand to tell,
Like ocean warring `gainst a rocky isle;
And the deep passions flashing through her form
Made her a beautiful embodied storm. 

A vulgar tempest `t were to a typhoon
To match a common fury with her rage,
And yet she did not want to reach the moon,
Like moderate Hotspur on the immortal page;
Her anger pitch`d into a lower tune,
Perhaps the fault of her soft sex and age-
Her wish was but to `kill, kill, kill,` like Lear`s,
And then her thirst of blood was quench`d in tears. 

A storm it raged, and like the storm it pass`d,
Pass`d without words- in fact she could not speak;
And then her sex`s shame broke in at last,
A sentiment till then in her but weak,
But now it flow`d in natural and fast,
As water through an unexpected leak;
For she felt humbled- and humiliation
Is sometimes good for people in her station 

It teaches them that they are flesh and blood,
It also gently hints to them that others,
Although of clay, are yet not quite of mud;
That urns and pipkins are but fragile brothers,
And works of the same pottery, bad or good,
Though not all born of the same sires and mothers:
It teaches- Heaven knows only what it teaches,
But sometimes it may mend, and often reaches. 

Her first thought was to cut off Juan`s head;
Her second, to cut only his- acquaintance;
Her third, to ask him where he had been bred;
Her fourth, to rally him into repentance;
Her fifth, to call her maids and go to bed;
Her sixth, to stab herself; her seventh, to sentence
The lash to Baba:- but her grand resource
Was to sit down again, and cry of course. 

She thought to stab herself, but then she had
The dagger close at hand, which made it awkward;
For Eastern stays are little made to pad,
So that a poniard pierces if `t is stuck hard:
She thought of killing Juan- but, poor lad!
Though he deserved it well for being so backward,
The cutting off his head was not the art
Most likely to attain her aim- his heart. 

Juan was moved; he had made up his mind
To be impaled, or quarter`d as a dish
For dogs, or to be slain with pangs refined,
Or thrown to lions, or made baits for fish,
And thus heroically stood resign`d,
Rather than sin- except to his own wish:
But all his great preparatives for dying
Dissolved like snow before a woman crying. 

As through his palms Bob Acres` valour oozed,
So Juan`s virtue ebb`d, I know not how;
And first he wonder`d why he had refused;
And then, if matters could be made up now;
And next his savage virtue he accused,
Just as a friar may accuse his vow,
Or as a dame repents her of her oath,
Which mostly ends in some small breach of both. 

So he began to stammer some excuses;
But words are not enough in such a matter,
Although you borrow`d all that e`er the muses
Have sung, or even a Dandy`s dandiest chatter,
Or all the figures Castlereagh abuses;
Just as a languid smile began to flatter
His peace was making, but before he ventured
Further, old Baba rather briskly enter`d. 

`Bride of the Sun! and Sister of the Moon!`
(`T was thus he spake) `and Empress of the Earth!
Whose frown would put the spheres all out of tune,
Whose smile makes all the planets dance with mirth,
Your slave brings tidings- he hopes not too soon-
Which your sublime attention may be worth:
The Sun himself has sent me like a ray,
To hint that he is coming up this way.` 

`Is it,` exclaim`d Gulbeyaz, `as you say?
I wish to heaven he would not shine till morning!
But bid my women form the milky way.
Hence, my old comet! give the stars due warning-
And, Christian! mingle with them as you may,
And as you `d have me pardon your past scorning-`
Here they were interrupted by a humming
Sound, and then by a cry, `The Sultan `s coming!` 

First came her damsels, a decorous file,
And then his Highness` eunuchs, black and white;
The train might reach a quarter of a mile:
His majesty was always so polite
As to announce his visits a long while
Before he came, especially at night;
For being the last wife of the Emperour,
She was of course the favorite of the four. 

His Highness was a man of solemn port,
Shawl`d to the nose, and bearded to the eyes,
Snatch`d from a prison to preside at court,
His lately bowstrung brother caused his rise;
He was as good a sovereign of the sort
As any mention`d in the histories
Of Cantemir, or Knolles, where few shine
Save Solyman, the glory of their line. 

He went to mosque in state, and said his prayers
With more than `Oriental scrupulosity;`
He left to his vizier all state affairs,
And show`d but little royal curiosity:
I know not if he had domestic cares-
No process proved connubial animosity;
Four wives and twice five hundred maids, unseen,
Were ruled as calmly as a Christian queen. 

If now and then there happen`d a slight slip,
Little was heard of criminal or crime;
The story scarcely pass`d a single lip-
The sack and sea had settled all in time,
From which the secret nobody could rip:
The Public knew no more than does this rhyme;
No scandals made the daily press a curse-
Morals were better, and the fish no worse. 

He saw with his own eyes the moon was round,
Was also certain that the earth was square,
Because he had journey`d fifty miles, and found
No sign that it was circular anywhere;
His empire also was without a bound:
`T is true, a little troubled here and there,
By rebel pachas, and encroaching giaours,
But then they never came to `the Seven Towers;` 

Except in shape of envoys, who were sent
To lodge there when a war broke out, according
To the true law of nations, which ne`er meant
Those scoundrels, who have never had a sword in
Their dirty diplomatic hands, to vent
Their spleen in making strife, and safely wording
Their lies, yclep`d despatches, without risk or
The singeing of a single inky whisker. 

He had fifty daughters and four dozen sons,
Of whom all such as came of age were stow`d,
The former in a palace, where like nuns
They lived till some Bashaw was sent abroad,
When she, whose turn it was, was wed at once,
Sometimes at six years old- though it seems odd,
`T is true; the reason is, that the Bashaw
Must make a present to his sire in law. 

His sons were kept in prison, till they grew
Of years to fill a bowstring or the throne,
One or the other, but which of the two
Could yet be known unto the fates alone;
Meantime the education they went through
Was princely, as the proofs have always shown:
So that the heir apparent still was found
No less deserving to be hang`d than crown`d. 

His majesty saluted his fourth spouse
With all the ceremonies of his rank,
Who clear`d her sparkling eyes and smooth`d her brows,
As suits a matron who has play`d a prank;
These must seem doubly mindful of their vows,
To save the credit of their breaking bank:
To no men are such cordial greetings given
As those whose wives have made them fit for heaven. 

His Highness cast around his great black eyes,
And looking, as he always look`d, perceived
Juan amongst the damsels in disguise,
At which he seem`d no whit surprised nor grieved,
But just remark`d with air sedate and wise,
While still a fluttering sigh Gulbeyaz heaved,
`I see you `ve bought another girl; `t is pity
That a mere Christian should be half so pretty.` 

This compliment, which drew all eyes upon
The new-bought virgin, made her blush and shake.
Her comrades, also, thought themselves undone:
Oh! Mahomet! that his majesty should take
Such notice of a giaour, while scarce to one
Of them his lips imperial ever spake!
There was a general whisper, toss, and wriggle,
But etiquette forbade them all to giggle. 

The Turks do well to shut- at least, sometimes-
The women up, because, in sad reality,
Their chastity in these unhappy climes
Is not a thing of that astringent quality
Which in the North prevents precocious crimes,
And makes our snow less pure than our morality;
The sun, which yearly melts the polar ice,
Has quite the contrary effect on vice. 

Thus in the East they are extremely strict,
And Wedlock and a Padlock mean the same;
Excepting only when the former `s pick`d
It ne`er can be replaced in proper frame;
Spoilt, as a pipe of claret is when prick`d:
But then their own Polygamy `s to blame;
Why don`t they knead two virtuous souls for life
Into that moral centaur, man and wife? 

Thus far our chronicle; and now we pause,
Though not for want of matter; but `t is time
According to the ancient epic laws,
To slacken sail, and anchor with our rhyme.
Let this fifth canto meet with due applause,
The sixth shall have a touch of the sublime;
Meanwhile, as Homer sometimes sleeps, perhaps
You `ll pardon to my muse a few short naps.
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