Well, that’s the prettiest shawl – as I’m alive! | |
You’ll give it me? They say you eat no pork. | |
And how so many years did you contrive | |
735 | To – Bless me! did I ever? No, I never |
Saw a man grown so yellow! How’s your liver? | |
XCIII | |
Beppo! that beard of yours becomes you not; | |
It shall be shaved before you’re a day older: | |
Why do you wear it? Oh! I had forgot – | |
740 | Pray don’t you think the weather here is colder? |
How do I look? You shan’t stir from this spot | |
In that queer dress, for fear that some beholder | |
Should find you out, and make the story known. | |
How short your hair is! Lord! how grey it’s grown!’ | |
XCIV | |
745 | What answer Beppo made to these demands |
Is more than I know. He was cast away | |
About where Troy stood once, and nothing stands; | |
Became a slave of course, and for his pay | |
Had bread and bastinadoes, till some bands | |
750 | Of pirates landing in a neighbouring bay, |
He join’d the rogues and prosper’d, and became | |
A renegado of indifferent fame. | |
XCV | |
But he grew rich, and with his riches grew so | |
Keen the desire to see his home again, | |
755 | He thought himself in duty bound to do so, |
And not be always thieving on the main; | |
Lonely he felt, at times, as Robin Crusoe, | |
And so he hired a vessel come from Spain, | |
Bound for Corfu: she was a fine polacca, | |
760 | Mann’d with twelve hands, and laden with tobacco. |
XCVI | |
Himself, and much (heaven knows how gotten!) cash, | |
He then embark’d with risk of life and limb, | |
And got clear off, although the attempt was rash; | |
He | |
765 | For my part, I say nothing – lest we clash |
In our opinions: – well, the ship was trim, | |
Set sail, and kept her reckoning fairly on, | |
Except three days of calm when off Cape Bonn. | |
XCVII | |
They reach’d the island, he transferr’d his lading. | |
770 | 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 forgot ’em. | |
However, he got off by this evading, | |
Or else the people would perhaps have shot him; | |
775 | And thus at Venice landed to reclaim |
His wife, religion, house, and Christian name. | |
XCVIII | |
His wife received, the patriarch re-baptized him, | |
(He made the church a present, by the way); | |
He then threw off the garments which disguised him, | |
780 | And borrow’d the Count’s smallclothes for a day: |
His friends the more for his long absence prized him, | |
Finding he’d wherewithal to make them gay, | |
With dinners, where he oft became the laugh of them, | |
For stories – but | |
XCIX | |
785 | Whate’er his youth had suffer’d, his old age |
With wealth and talking make him some amends; | |
Though Laura sometimes put him in a rage, | |
I’ve heard the Count and he were always friends. | |
My pen is at the bottom of a page, | |
790 | Which being finish’d, here the story ends; |
’Tis to be wish’d it had been sooner done, | |
But stories somehow lengthen when begun. |
Epistle to Mr Murray | |
I | |
My dear Mr Murray, | |
You’re in a damn’d hurry | |
To set up this ultimate Canto; | |
But (if they don’t rob us) | |
5 | You’ll see Mr Hobhouse |
Will bring it safe in his portmanteau. | |
II | |
For the Journal you hint of, | |
As ready to print off, | |
No doubt you do right to commend it; | |
10 | But as yet I have writ off |
The devil a bit of | |
Our ‘Beppo:’ — when copied, I’ll send it. | |
III | |
In the mean time you’ve ‘Gally’ | |
Whose verses all tally, | |
15 | Perhaps you may say he’s a Ninny, |
But if you abashed are | |
Because of ‘Alashtar’ | |
He’ll piddle another ‘Phrosine.’ – | |
IV | |
Then you’ve [Sotheby]’s Tour, – | |
20 | No great things, to be sure, – |
You could hardly begin with a less work; | |
For the pompous rascallion, | |
Who don’t speak Italian | |
Nor French, must have scribbled by Guesswork. | |
V | |
25 | No doubt he’s a rare man |
Without knowing German | |
Translating his way up Parnassus, | |
And now still absurder | |
He meditates Murder | |
30 | As you’ll see in the trash he calls |
VI | |
But you’ve others his betters | |
The real men of letters – | |
Your orators — critics — and wits — | |
And I’ll bet that your Journal | |
35 | (Pray is it diurnal?) |
Will pay with your luckiest hits. — | |
VII | |
You can make any loss up | |
With ‘Sence’ and his gossip. | |
, A work which must surely succeed; | |
40 | Then Queen Mary’s Epistle-craft, |
With the new ‘Fytte’ of ‘Whistlecraft,’ | |
Must make people purchase and read. | |
VIII | |
Then you’ve General Gordon | |
Who girded his sword on, | |
45 | To serve with a Muscovite master, |
And help him to polish | |
A nation so owlish, | |
They thought shaving their beards a disaster. | |
IX | |
For the man, ‘poor and shrewd, ‘ | |
50 | With whom you’d conclude |
A compact without more delay, | |
Perhaps some such pen is | |
Still extant in Venice; | |
But please, sir, to mention | |
X | |
55 | Now tell me some news |
Of your friends and the Muse | |
Of the Bar, — or the Gown — or the House, | |
From Canning the tall wit | |
To Wilmot the small wit | |
60 | Ward’s creeping Companion and |
XI | |
Who’s so damnably bit | |
With fashion and Wit | |
That he crawls on the surface like Vermin, | |
But an Insect in both, — | |
65 | By his Intellect’s growth |
Of what | |
XII | |
Now, I’ll put out my taper | |
(I’ve finished my paper | |
For these stanzas you see on the | |
70 | There’s a whore on my right, |
For I rhyme best at night | |
When a C —t is tied close to my | |
XIII | |
It was Mahomet’s notion | |
That | |
75 | Increased his ‘devotion in prayer’ — |
If that tenet holds good | |
In a Prophet, it should | |
In a poet be equally fair. — | |
XIV | |
For in rhyme or in love | |
80 | (Which both come from above) |
I’ll stand with our | |
But the Sopha and lady | |
Are both of them ready | |
And so, here’s ‘Good night to you dammee!’ |
MAZEPPA
ADVERTISEMENT
‘Celui qui remplissait alors cette place était un gentilhomme Polonais, nommé Mazeppa, né dans le palatinat de Padolie: il avait été élevé page de Jean Casimir, et avait pris à sa cour quelque teinture des belles-lettres. Une intrigue qu’il eut dans sa jeunesse avec la femme d’un gentilhomme Polonais ayant été découverte, le mari le fit lier tout nu sur un cheval farouche, et le laissa aller en cet état. Le cheval, qui était du pays de I’Ukraine, y retourna, et y porta Mazeppa, demi-mort de fatigue et de faim. Quelques paysans le secoururent: il resta longtems parmi eux, et se signala dans plusieurs courses contre les Tartares. La supériorité de ses lumières lui donna une grande considération parmi les Cosaques: sa réputations’ augmentant de jour en jour, obligea le Czar à le faire Prince de l’Ukraine.’ – V
OLTAIRE
,
Hist. de Charles
XII
. p. 196.