3 books to know Juvenalian Satire. Lord Byron

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ with the stony vapours of the vault.

      And she bent o'er him, and he lay beneath,

      Hush'd as the babe upon its mother's breast,

      Droop'd as the willow when no winds can breathe,

      Lull'd like the depth of ocean when at rest,

      Fair as the crowning rose of the whole wreath,

      Soft as the callow cygnet in its nest;

      In short, he was a very pretty fellow,

      Although his woes had turn'd him rather yellow.

      He woke and gazed, and would have slept again,

      But the fair face which met his eyes forbade

      Those eyes to close, though weariness and pain

      Had further sleep a further pleasure made;

      For woman's face was never form'd in vain

      For Juan, so that even when he pray'd

      He turn'd from grisly saints, and martyrs hairy,

      To the sweet portraits of the Virgin Mary.

      And thus upon his elbow he arose,

      And look'd upon the lady, in whose cheek

      The pale contended with the purple rose,

      As with an effort she began to speak;

      Her eyes were eloquent, her words would pose,

      Although she told him, in good modern Greek,

      With an Ionian accent, low and sweet,

      That he was faint, and must not talk, but eat.

      Now Juan could not understand a word,

      Being no Grecian; but he had an ear,

      And her voice was the warble of a bird,

      So soft, so sweet, so delicately clear,

      That finer, simpler music ne'er was heard;

      The sort of sound we echo with a tear,

      Without knowing why—an overpowering tone,

      Whence Melody descends as from a throne.

      And Juan gazed as one who is awoke

      By a distant organ, doubting if he be

      Not yet a dreamer, till the spell is broke

      By the watchman, or some such reality,

      Or by one's early valet's cursed knock;

      At least it is a heavy sound to me,

      Who like a morning slumber—for the night

      Shows stars and women in a better light.

      And Juan, too, was help'd out from his dream,

      Or sleep, or whatso'er it was, by feeling

      A most prodigious appetite: the steam

      Of Zoe's cookery no doubt was stealing

      Upon his senses, and the kindling beam

      Of the new fire, which Zoe kept up, kneeling

      To stir her viands, made him quite awake

      And long for food, but chiefly a beef-steak.

      But beef is rare within these oxless isles;

      Goat's flesh there is, no doubt, and kid, and mutton;

      And, when a holiday upon them smiles,

      A joint upon their barbarous spits they put on:

      But this occurs but seldom, between whiles,

      For some of these are rocks with scarce a hut on;

      Others are fair and fertile, among which

      This, though not large, was one of the most rich.

      I say that beef is rare, and can't help thinking

      That the old fable of the Minotaur—

      From which our modern morals rightly shrinking

      Condemn the royal lady's taste who wore

      A cow's shape for a mask—was only (sinking

      The allegory) a mere type, no more,

      That Pasiphae promoted breeding cattle,

      To make the Cretans bloodier in battle.

      For we all know that English people are

      Fed upon beef—I won't say much of beer,

      Because 't is liquor only, and being far

      From this my subject, has no business here;

      We know, too, they very fond of war,

      A pleasure—like all pleasures—rather dear;

      So were the Cretans—from which I infer

      That beef and battles both were owing to her.

      But to resume. The languid Juan raised

      His head upon his elbow, and he saw

      A sight on which he had not lately gazed,

      As all his latter meals had been quite raw,

      Three or four things, for which the Lord he praised,

      And, feeling still the famish'd vulture gnaw,

      He fell upon whate'er was offer'd, like

      A priest, a shark, an alderman, or pike.

      He ate, and he was well supplied: and she,

      Who watch'd him like a mother, would have fed

      Him past all bounds, because she smiled to see

      Such appetite in one she had deem'd dead;

      But Zoe, being older than Haidee,

      Knew (by tradition, for she ne'er had read)

СКАЧАТЬ