And thus at Venice landed to reclaim But he grew rich, and with his riches grew so | Or else the people would perhaps have sh Himself, and much (heaven knows how He said that Providence protected him— They reach'd the island, he transferr❜d his lading, And self and live-stock, to another bottom, And pass'd for a true Turkey-merchant, trading With goods of various names, but I've for got 'em. However, he got off by this evading, His wife received, the patriarch re-baptiz him, (He made the church a present by the way He then threw off the garments which di guised him, And borrow'd the Count's small-clothes f laugh of them, For stories,-but I don't believe the hi of them. Whate'er his youth had suffer'd, his old a With wealth and talking made him son amends; Though Laura sometimes put him in a rag My pen is at the bottom of a page, Prince Ferdinand, Granby, Burgoyne, Keppel, Howe, And fill'd their sign-posts then, like W lesley now; Each in their turn like Banquo's monar Followers of fame, "nine farrow" of th stalk, SOW: Recorded in the Moniteur and Courier. Barnave, Brissot, Condorcet, Mirabeau, With many of the military set, Evil and good, have had their tithe of talk, | But not at all adapted to my rhymes ast epic poets plunge in “medias res,” Her favourite science was the mathematical, Horace makes this the heroic turnpike-Her noblest vittue was her magnanimity, road), And then your hero tells, whene'er you please, That went before-by way of episode, Her wit (she sometimes tried at wit) was Attic all. Her serious sayings darken'd to sublimity; In short, in all things she was fairly what I call A prodigy-her morning-dress was dimity, Her evening silk, or, in the summer, muslin, And other stuffs, with which I won't stay puzzling. In short she was a walking calculation, Miss Edgeworth's novels stepping from their covers, Or Mrs. Trimmer's books on education, Morality's prim personification, Oh! she was perfect past all parallel – Even her minutest motions went as well In virtues nothing earthly could surpass her, Save thine "incomparable oil," Macassar! Perfect she was, but as perfection is Insipid in this naughty world of ours, Where our first parents never learn'd to kiss Till they were exiled from their earlier bowers, Where all was peace, and innocence, and bliss, (I wonder how they got through the twelve hours) And so I interfered, and with the best Intentions, but their treatment was n kind; I think the foolish people were possess'd Don Jóse like a lineal son of Eve, leave. He was a mortal of the careless kind, With no great love for learning, or the learn'd, Who chose to go where'er he had a mind, And never dream'd his lady was concern'd: The world, as usual, wickedly inclined To see a kingdom or a house o'erturn'd, Whisper'd he had a mistress, some said two, But for domestic quarrels one will do. Now Donna Inez had with all her merit, And let few opportunities escape This was an easy matter with a man Although their porter afterwards confess'd But that's no matter, and the worst behin For little Juan o'er me threw, down stair A pail of housemaid's water unawares. All which might, if occasion served, be To public feeling, which on this occasion Was manifested in a great sensation. quoted; And then she had all Seville for abettors, Besides her good old grandmother (who doted); The bearers of her case became repeaters, Then advocates, inquisitors, and judges, Se for amusement, others for old grudges. Sagest of women, even of widows, she So much indeed as to be downright rud Resolved that Juan should be quite a And then what proper person can be parti To all those nauseous epigrams of Martia paragon, And worthy of the noblest pedigree (His sire was of Castile, his dam from Arragon): Then for accomplishments of chivalry, In case our lord the king should go to war again, He learned the arts of riding, fencing gunnery, And how to scale a fortress—or a nunnery. But that which Donna Inez most desired, And saw into herself each day before all The learned tutors whom for him she hired, Was that his breeding should be strictly moral; Much into all his studies she inquired, And so they were submitted first to her, all, Arts, sciences, no branch was made a mystery To Juan's eyes, excepting natural history. The languages, especially the dead, His classic studies made a little puzzle, Because of filthy loves of gods and goddesses, Who in the earlier ages raised a bustle, But never put on pantaloons or bodices; His reverend tutors had at times a tussle, And for their Aeneids, Iliads and Odysseys, Were forced to make an odd sort of apology, For Donna Inez dreaded the mythology. Ovid's a rake, as half his verses show him : But Virgil's songs are pure, except that horrid one Beginning with "Formosum Pastor Corydon." Lucretius' irreligion is too strong |