Upon the golden fruit the vision bore,
A bee flew out and stung her to the heart,
And so she woke with a great scream and start.
78
All this she told with some confusion and
Dismay, the usual consequence of dreams
Of the unpleasant kind, with none at hand
To expound their vain and visionary gleams.
I’ve known some odd ones which seemed really planned
Prophetically, or that which one deems
‘A strange coincidence’, to use a phrase
By which such things are settled nowadays.
79
The damsels, who had thoughts of some great harm,
Began, as is the consequence of fear,
To scold a little at the false alarm
That broke for nothing on their sleeping ear.
The matron too was wroth to leave her warm
Bed for the dream she had been obliged to hear
And chafed at poor Dudù, who only sighed
And said that she was sorry she had cried.
80
‘I’ve heard of stories of a cock and bull,
But visions of an apple and a bee,
To take us from our natural rest and pull
The whole oda from their beds at half-past three
Would make us think the moon is at its full.
You surely are unwell, child! We must see
Tomorrow what His Highness’s physician
Will say to this hysteric of a vision.
81
‘And poor Juanna too! The child’s first night
Within these walls to be broke in upon
With such a clamour! I had thought it right
That the young stranger should not lie alone,
And as the quietest of all, she might
With you, Dudù, a good night’s rest have known.
But now I must transfer her to the charge
Of Lolah, though her couch is not so large.’
82
Lolah’s eyes sparkled at the proposition,
But poor Dudù with large drops in her own,
Resulting from the scolding or the vision,
Implored that present pardon might be shown
For this first fault and that on no condition
(She added in a soft and piteous tone)
Juanna should be taken from her, and
Her future dreams should all be kept in hand.
83
She promised never more to have a dream,
At least to dream so loudly as just now.
She wondered at herself how she could scream;
’Twas foolish, nervous, as she must allow,
A fond hallucination and a theme
For laughter. But she felt her spirits low
And begged they would excuse her; she’d get over
This weakness in a few hours and recover.
84
And here Juanna kindly interposed
And said she felt herself extremely well
Where she then was, as her sound sleep disclosed
When all around rang like a tocsin bell.
She did not find herself the least disposed
To quit her gentle partner and to dwell
Apart from one who had no sin to show
Save that of dreaming once malapropos.
85
As thus Juanna spoke, Dudù turned round
And hid her face within Juanna’s breast.
Her neck alone was seen, but that was found
The colour of a budding rose’s crest.
I can’t tell why she blushed, nor can expound
The mystery of this rupture of their rest;
All that I know is that the facts I state
Are true as truth has ever been of late.
86
And so good night to them, or if you will,
Good morrow, for the cock had crown, and light
Began to clothe each Asiatic hill,
And the mosque crescent struggled into sight
Of the long caravan, which in the chill
Of dewy dawn wound slowly round each height
That stretches to the stony belt, which girds
Asia, where Kaff looks down upon the Kurds.
87
With the first ray or rather grey of morn,
Gulbeyaz rose from restlessness, and pale
As Passion rises with its bosom worn,
Arrayed herself with mantle, gem, and veil
The nightingale that sings with the deep thorn,
Which fable places in her breast of wail,
Is lighter far of heart and voice than those
Whose headlong passions form their proper woes.
88
And that’s the moral of this composition,
If people would but see its real drift.
But that they will not do without suspicion,
Because all gentle readers have the gift
Of closing ’gainst the light their orbs of vision,
While gentle writers also love to lift
Their voices ’gainst each other, which is natural;
The numbers are too great for them to flatter all.
89
Rose the Sultana from a bed of splendour,
Softer than the soft Sybarite’s, who cried
Aloud because his feelings were too tender
To brook a ruffled rose leaf by his side;
So beautiful that art could little mend her,
Though pale with conflicts between love and pride.
So agitated was she with her error
She did not even look into the mirror.
90
Also arose about the selfsame time,
Perhaps a little later, her great lord,
Master of thirty kingdoms so sublime
And of a wife by whom he was abhorred,
A thing of much less import in that clime –
At least to those of incomes which afford
The filling up their whole connubial cargo –
Than where two wives are under an embargo.
91
He did not think much on the matter nor
Indeed on any other. As a man
He liked to have a handsome paramour
At hand, as one may like to have a fan,
And therefore of Circassians had good store
As an amusement after the Divan,
Though an unusual fit of love or duty
Had made him lately bask in his bride’s beauty.
92
And now he rose, and after due ablutions
Exacted by the customs of the East
And prayers and other pious evolutions,
He drank six cups of coffee at the least
And then withdrew to hear about the Russians,
Whose victories had recently increased
In Catherine’s reign, whom glory still adores
As greatest of all sovereigns and whores.
93
But oh, thou grand legitimate Alexander!
Her son’s son, let not this last phrase offend
Thine ear, if it should reach, and now rhymes wander
Almost as far as Petersburgh and lend
A dreadful impulse to each loud meander
Of murmuring Liberty’s wide waves, which blend
Their roar even with the Baltic’s. So you be
Your father’s son, ’tis quite enough for me.
94
To call men love-begotten or proclaim
Their mothers as the antipodes of Timon,
That hater of mankind, would be a shame,
A libel, or whate’er you please to rhyme on.
But people’s ancestors are history’s game,
And if one lady’s slip could leave a crime on
All generations, I should like to know
What pedigree the best would have to show?
95
Had Catherine and the Sultan understood
Their own true interests, which kings rarely know,
Until ’tis taught by lessons rather rude,
There was a way to end their strife, although
Perhaps precarious, had they but thought good
Without the aid of prince or plenipo:
She to dismiss her guards and he his harem
And for their other matters meet and share ’em.
96
But as it was, His Highness had to hold
His daily council upon ways and means
How to encounter with this martial scold,
This modern Amazon and Queen of queans;
And the perplexity could not be told
Of all the pillars of the state, which leans
Sometimes a little heavy on the backs
Of those who cannot lay on a new tax.
97
Meantime Gulbeyaz, when her king was gone,
Retired into her boudoir, a sweet place
For love or breakfast, private, pleasing, lone,
And rich with all contrivances which grace
Those gay recesses. Many a precious stone
Sparkled along its roof, and many a vase
Of porcelain held in the fettered flowers,
Those captive soothers of a captive’s hours.
98
Mother of pearl and porphyry and marble
Vied with each other on this costly spot,
And singing birds without were heard to warble,
And the stained glass which lighted this fair grot
Varied each ray. But all descriptions garble
The true effect, and so we had better not
Be too minute. An outline is the best,
A lively reader’s fancy does the rest.
99
And here she summoned Baba and required
Don Juan at his hands and information
Of what had past since all the slaves retired,
And whether he had occupied their station,
If matters had been managed as desired,
And his disguise with due consideration
Kept up, and above all, the where and how
He had passed the night was what she wished to know.
1OO
Baba with some embarrassment replied
To this long catechism of questions, asked
More easily than answered, that he had tried
His best to obey in what he had been tasked.
But there seemed something that he wished to hide,
Which hesitation more betrayed than masked.
He scratched his ear, the infallible resource
To which embarrassed people have recourse.
101
Gulbeyaz was no model of true patience
Nor much disposed to wait in word or deed.
She liked quick answers in all conversations,
And when she saw him stumbling like a steed
In his replies, she puzzled him for fresh ones.
And as his speech grew still more broken-kneed,
Her cheek began to flush, her eyes to sparkle,
And her proud brow’s blue veins to swell and darkle.
102
When Baba saw these symptoms, which he knew
To bode him no great good, he deprecated
Her anger and beseeched she’d hear him through.
He could not help the thing which he related.
Then out it came at length that to Dudù
Juan was given in charge, as hath been stated,
But not by Baba’s fault, he said, and swore on
The holy camel’s hump, besides the Koran.
103
The chief dame of the oda, upon whom
The discipline of the whole harem bore,
As soon as they re-entered their own room,
For Baba’s function stopped short at the door,
Had settled all; nor could he then presume
(The aforesaid Baba) just then to do more,
Without exciting such suspicion as
Might make the matter still worse than it was.
104
He hoped, indeed he thought he could be sure
Juan had not betrayed himself; in fact
’Twas certain that his conduct had been pure,
Because a foolish or imprudent act
Would not alone have made him insecure,
But ended in his being found out and sacked
And thrown into the sea. Thus Baba spoke
Of all save Dudù’s dream, which was no joke.
105
This he discreetly kept in the background
And talked away and might have talked till now,
For any further answer that he found,
So deep an anguish wrung Gulbeyaz’ brow.
Her cheek turned ashes, ears rung, brain whirled round
As if she had received a sudden blow,
And the heart’s dew of pain sprang fast and chilly
O’er her fair front, like morning’s on a lily.
106
Although she was not of the fainting sort,
Baba thought she would faint, but there he erred;
It was but a convulsion, which though short
Can never be described. We all have heard
And some of us have felt thus ‘all amort’,
When things beyond the common have occurred.
Gulbeyaz proved in that brief agony
What she could ne’er express – then how should I?
107
She stood a moment as a pythoness
Stands on her tripod, agonized and full
Of inspiration gathered from distress,
When all the heartstrings like wild horses pull
The heart asunder. Then as more or less
Their speed abated or their strength grew dull,
She sunk down on her seat by slow degrees
And bowed her throbbing head o’er trembling knees.
108
Her face declined and was unseen; her hair
Fell in long tresses like the weeping willow,
Sweeping the marble underneath her chair,
Or rather sofa (for it was all pillow,
A low, soft ottoman). And black despair
Stirred up and down her bosom like a billow,
Which rushes to some shore, whose shingles check
Its farther course, but must receive its wreck.
109
Her head hung down, and her long hair in stooping
Concealed her features better than a veil;
And one hand o’er the ottoman lay drooping,
White, waxen, and as alabaster pale.
Would that I were a painter to be grouping
All that a poet drags into detail!
Oh that my words were colours! But their tints
May serve perhaps as outlines or slight hints.
110
Baba, who knew by experience when to talk
And when to hold its tongue, now held it till
This passion might blow o’er, nor dared to balk
Gulbeyaz’ taciturn or speaking will.
At length she rose up and began to walk
Slowly along the room, but silent still,
And her brow cleared, but not her troubled eye.
The wind was down, but still the sea ran high.
111
She stopped and raised her head to speak, but paused
And then moved on again with rapid pace,
Then slackened it, which is the march most caused
By deep emotion. You may sometimes trace
A feeling in each footstep, as disclosed
By Sallust in his Catiline, who chased
By all the demons of all passions, showed
Their work even by the way in which he trode.
112
Gulbeyaz stopped and beckoned Baba. ‘Slave,
> Bring the two slaves, ’ she said in a low tone,
But one which Baba did not like to brave,
And yet he shuddered and seemed rather prone
To prove reluctant and begged leave to crave
(Though he well knew the meaning) to be shown
What slaves Her Highness wished to indicate,
For fear of any error, like the late.
113
‘The Georgian and her paramour, ’ replied
The imperial bride and added, ‘Let the boat
Be ready by the secret portal’s side.
You know the rest.’ The words stuck in her throat
Despite her injured love and fiery pride.
And of this Baba willingly took note
And begged by every hair of Mahomet’s beard
She would revoke the order he had heard.
114
‘To hear is to obey, ’ he said, ‘but still,
Sultana, think upon the consequence.
It is not that I shall not all fulfil
Your orders even in their severest sense,
But such precipitation may end ill
Even at your own imperative expense.
I do not mean destruction and exposure
In case of any premature disclosure,
115
‘But your own feelings. Even should all the rest
Be hidden by the rolling waves, which hide
Already many a once love-beaten breast
Deep in the caverns of the deadly tide,
You love this boyish, new, seraglio guest,
And if this violent remedy be tried –
Excuse my freedom, when I here assure you
That killing him is not the way to cure you.’
116
‘What dost thou know of love or feeling? Wretch,
Begone!’ she cried with kindling eyes, ‘and do
My bidding.’ Baba vanished, for to stretch
His own remonstrance further he well knew
Might end in acting as his own Jack Ketch;
And though he wished extremely to get through
This awkward business without harm to others,
He still preferred his own neck to another’s.
117
Away he went then upon his commission,
Growling and grumbling in good Turkish phrase
Against all women of whate’er condition,
Especially sultanas and their ways,
Their obstinacy, pride, and indecision,
Their never knowing their own mind two days,
The trouble that they gave, their immorality,
Which made him daily bless his own neutrality.
118
And then he called his brethren to his aid
And sent one on a summons to the pair,
That they must instantly be well arrayed
And above all be combed even to a hair
And brought before the Empress, who had made
Inquiries after them with kindest care,
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