3 books to know Juvenalian Satire. Lord Byron

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СКАЧАТЬ had no business to commit a sin,

      Forbid by heavenly, fined by human laws,

      At least 't was rather early to begin;

      But at sixteen the conscience rarely gnaws

      So much as when we call our old debts in

      At sixty years, and draw the accompts of evil,

      And find a deuced balance with the devil.

      Of his position I can give no notion:

      'T is written in the Hebrew Chronicle,

      How the physicians, leaving pill and potion,

      Prescribed, by way of blister, a young belle,

      When old King David's blood grew dull in motion,

      And that the medicine answer'd very well;

      Perhaps 't was in a different way applied,

      For David lived, but Juan nearly died.

      What 's to be done? Alfonso will be back

      The moment he has sent his fools away.

      Antonia's skill was put upon the rack,

      But no device could be brought into play—

      And how to parry the renew'd attack?

      Besides, it wanted but few hours of day:

      Antonia puzzled; Julia did not speak,

      But press'd her bloodless lip to Juan's cheek.

      He turn'd his lip to hers, and with his hand

      Call'd back the tangles of her wandering hair;

      Even then their love they could not all command,

      And half forgot their danger and despair:

      Antonia's patience now was at a stand—

      'Come, come, 't is no time now for fooling there,'

      She whisper'd, in great wrath—'I must deposit

      This pretty gentleman within the closet:

      'Pray, keep your nonsense for some luckier night—

      Who can have put my master in this mood?

      What will become on 't—I 'm in such a fright,

      The devil 's in the urchin, and no good—

      Is this a time for giggling? this a plight?

      Why, don't you know that it may end in blood?

      You 'll lose your life, and I shall lose my place,

      My mistress all, for that half-girlish face.

      'Had it but been for a stout cavalier

      Of twenty-five or thirty (come, make haste)—

      But for a child, what piece of work is here!

      I really, madam, wonder at your taste

      (Come, sir, get in)—my master must be near:

      There, for the present, at the least, he's fast,

      And if we can but till the morning keep

      Our counsel—(Juan, mind, you must not sleep).'

      Now, Don Alfonso entering, but alone,

      Closed the oration of the trusty maid:

      She loiter'd, and he told her to be gone,

      An order somewhat sullenly obey'd;

      However, present remedy was none,

      And no great good seem'd answer'd if she stay'd:

      Regarding both with slow and sidelong view,

      She snuff'd the candle, curtsied, and withdrew.

      Alfonso paused a minute—then begun

      Some strange excuses for his late proceeding;

      He would not justify what he had done,

      To say the best, it was extreme ill-breeding;

      But there were ample reasons for it, none

      Of which he specified in this his pleading:

      His speech was a fine sample, on the whole,

      Of rhetoric, which the learn'd call 'rigmarole.'

      Julia said nought; though all the while there rose

      A ready answer, which at once enables

      A matron, who her husband's foible knows,

      By a few timely words to turn the tables,

      Which, if it does not silence, still must pose,—

      Even if it should comprise a pack of fables;

      'T is to retort with firmness, and when he

      Suspects with one, do you reproach with three.

      Julia, in fact, had tolerable grounds,—

      Alfonso's loves with Inez were well known,

      But whether 't was that one's own guilt confounds—

      But that can't be, as has been often shown,

      A lady with apologies abounds;—

      It might be that her silence sprang alone

      From delicacy to Don Juan's ear,

      To whom she knew his mother's fame was dear.

      There might be one more motive, which makes two;

      Alfonso ne'er to Juan had alluded,—

      Mention'd his jealousy but never who

      Had been the happy lover, he concluded,

      Conceal'd amongst his premises; 't is true,

      His mind the more o'er this its mystery brooded;

      To speak of Inez now were, one may say,

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