第122章

I knew him in his livelier London days, A brilliant diner out, though but a curate;

And not a joke he cut but earn'd its praise, Until preferment, coming at a sure rate (O Providence! how wondrous are thy ways!

Who would suppose thy gifts sometimes obdurate?), Gave him, to lay the devil who looks o'er Lincoln, A fat fen vicarage, and nought to think on.

His jokes were sermons, and his sermons jokes;

But both were thrown away amongst the fens;

For wit hath no great friend in aguish folks.

No longer ready ears and short-hand pens Imbibed the gay bon-mot, or happy hoax:

The poor priest was reduced to common sense, Or to coarse efforts very loud and long, To hammer a horse laugh from the thick throng.

There is a difference, says the song, 'between A beggar and a queen,' or was (of late The latter worse used of the two we 've seen-But we 'll say nothing of affairs of state);

A difference ''twixt a bishop and a dean,'

A difference between crockery ware and plate, As between English beef and Spartan broth-And yet great heroes have been bred by both.

But of all nature's discrepancies, none Upon the whole is greater than the difference Beheld between the country and the town, Of which the latter merits every preference From those who have few resources of their own, And only think, or act, or feel, with reference To some small plan of interest or ambition-Both which are limited to no condition.

But 'en avant!' The light loves languish o'er Long banquets and too many guests, although A slight repast makes people love much more, Bacchus and Ceres being, as we know Even from our grammar upwards, friends of yore With vivifying Venus, who doth owe To these the invention of champagne and truffles:

Temperance delights her, but long fasting ruffles.

Dully past o'er the dinner of the day;

And Juan took his place, he knew not where, Confused, in the confusion, and distrait, And sitting as if nail'd upon his chair:

Though knives and forks clank'd round as in a fray, He seem'd unconscious of all passing there, Till some one, with a groan, exprest a wish (Unheeded twice) to have a fin of fish.

On which, at the third asking of the bans, He started; and perceiving smiles around Broadening to grins, he colour'd more than once, And hastily- as nothing can confound A wise man more than laughter from a dunce-Inflicted on the dish a deadly wound, And with such hurry, that ere he could curb it He had paid his neighbour's prayer with half a turbot.

This was no bad mistake, as it occurr'd, The supplicator being an amateur;

But others, who were left with scarce a third, Were angry- as they well might, to be sure.

They wonder'd how a young man so absurd Lord Henry at his table should endure;

And this, and his not knowing how much oats Had fallen last market, cost his host three votes.

They little knew, or might have sympathised, That he the night before had seen a ghost, A prologue which but slightly harmonised With the substantial company engross'd By matter, and so much materialised, That one scarce knew at what to marvel most Of two things- how (the question rather odd is)

Such bodies could have souls, or souls such bodies.

But what confused him more than smile or stare From all the 'squires and 'squiresses around, Who wonder'd at the abstraction of his air, Especially as he had been renown'd For some vivacity among the fair, Even in the country circle's narrow bound (For little things upon my lord's estate Were good small talk for others still less great)-Was, that he caught Aurora's eye on his, And something like a smile upon her cheek.

Now this he really rather took amiss:

In those who rarely smile, their smiles bespeak A strong external motive; and in this Smile of Aurora's there was nought to pique Or hope, or love, with any of the wiles Which some pretend to trace in ladies' smiles.

'T was a mere quiet smile of contemplation, Indicative of some surprise and pity;

And Juan grew carnation with vexation, Which was not very wise, and still less witty, Since he had gain'd at least her observation, A most important outwork of the city-As Juan should have known, had not his senses By last night's ghost been driven from their defences.

But what was bad, she did not blush in turn, Nor seem embarrass'd- quite the contrary;

Her aspect was as usual, still- not stern-And she withdrew, but cast not down, her eye, Yet grew a little pale- with what? concern?

I know not; but her colour ne'er was high-Though sometimes faintly flush'd- and always clear, As deep seas in a sunny atmosphere.

But Adeline was occupied by fame This day; and watching, witching, condescending To the consumers of fish, fowl, and game, And dignity with courtesy so blending, As all must blend whose part it is to aim (Especially as the sixth year is ending)

At their lord's, son's, or similar connection's Safe conduct through the rocks of re-elections.

Though this was most expedient on the whole, And usual- Juan, when he cast a glance On Adeline while playing her grand role, Which she went through as though it were a dance, Betraying only now and then her soul By a look scarce perceptibly askance (Of weariness or scorn), began to feel Some doubt how much of Adeline was real;

So well she acted all and every part By turns- with that vivacious versatility, Which many people take for want of heart.

They err- 't is merely what is call'd mobility, A thing of temperament and not of art, Though seeming so, from its supposed facility;

And false- though true; for surely they 're sincerest Who are strongly acted on by what is nearest.

This makes your actors, artists, and romancers, Heroes sometimes, though seldom- sages never;

But speakers, bards, diplomatists, and dancers, Little that 's great, but much of what is clever;

Most orators, but very few financiers, Though all Exchequer chancellors endeavour, Of late years, to dispense with Cocker's rigours, And grow quite figurative with their figures.