Don Juan

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by Lord George Gordon Byron


  At which Dudù looked strange, and Juan silly,

  But go they must at once, and will I, nill I.

  119

  And here I leave them at their preparation

  For the imperial presence, wherein whether

  Gulbeyaz showed them both commiseration

  Or got rid of the parties altogether,

  Like other angry ladies of her nation,

  Are things the turning of a hair or feather

  May settle, but far be’t from me to anticipate

  In what way feminine caprice may dissipate.

  120

  I leave them for the present with good wishes,

  Though doubts of their well doing, to arrange

  Another part of history, for the dishes

  Of this our banquet we must sometimes change,

  And trusting Juan may escape the fishes,

  Although his situation now seems strange

  And scarce secure. As such digressions are fair,

  The Muse will take a little touch at warfare.

  Canto VII

  1

  Oh Love! Oh Glory! what are ye who fly

  Around us ever, rarely to alight?

  There’s not a meteor in the polar sky

  Of such transcendent and more fleeting flight.

  Chill and chained to cold earth, we lift on high

  Our eyes in search of either lovely light.

  A thousand and a thousand colours they

  Assume, then leave us on our freezing way.

  2

  And such as they are, such my present tale is,

  A nondescript and ever varying rhyme,

  A versified aurora borealis,

  Which flashes o’er a waste and icy clime.

  When we know what all are, we must bewail us,

  But ne’ertheless I hope it is no crime

  To laugh at all things, for I wish to know

  What after all are all things – but a show?

  3

  They accuse me – me – the present writer of

  The present poem of – I know not what –

  A tendency to underrate and scoff

  At human power and virtue and all that;

  And this they say in language rather rough.

  Good God! I wonder what they would be at!

  I say no more than has been said in Dante’s

  Verse and by Solomon and by Cervantes,

  4

  By Swift, by Machiavel, by Rochefoucault,

  By Fenelon, by Luther, and by Plato,

  By Tillotson and Wesley and Rousseau,

  Who knew this life was not worth a potato.

  ’Tis not their fault nor mine if this be so.

  For my part, I pretend not to be Cato

  Nor even Diogenes. We live and die,

  But which is best, you know no more than I.

  5

  Socrates said our only knowledge was

  ‘To know that nothing could be known’, a pleasant

  Science enough, which levels to an ass

  Each man of wisdom, future, past, or present.

  Newton (that proverb of the mind) alas,

  Declared, with all his grand discoveries recent,

  That he himself felt only ‘like a youth

  Picking up shells by the great ocean – Truth.’

  6

  Ecclesiastes said that all is vanity;

  Most modern preachers say the same or show it

  By their examples of true Christianity.

  In short all know or very soon may know it;

  And in this scene of all-confessed inanity,

  By saint, by sage, by preacher, and by poet,

  Must I restrain me through the fear of strife

  From holding up the nothingness of life?

  7

  Dogs or men (for I flatter you in saying

  That ye are dogs – your betters far), ye may

  Read or read not what I am now essaying

  To show ye what ye are in every way.

  As little as the moon stops for the baying

  Of wolves, will the bright Muse withdraw one ray

  From out her skies. Then howl your idle wrath,

  While she still silvers o’er your gloomy path!

  8

  ‘Fierce loves and faithless wars’ – I am not sure

  If this be the right reading–’tis no matter.

  The fact’s about the same, I am secure.

  I sing them both and am about to batter

  A town which did a famous siege endure,

  And was beleaguered both by land and water

  Suvar off or anglice Suwarrow,

  Who loved blood as an alderman loves marrow.

  9

  The fortress is called Ismail and is placed

  Upon the Danube’s left branch and left bank,

  With buildings in the oriental taste,

  But still a fortress of the foremost rank,

  Or was at least, unless ’tis since defaced,

  Which with your conquerors is a common prank.

  It stands some eighty versts from the high sea

  And measures round of toises thousands three.

  10

  Within the extent of this fortification

  A borough is comprised along the height

  Upon the left, which from its loftier station

  Commands the city, and upon its site

  A Greek had raised around this elevation

  A quantity of palisades upright,

  So placed as to impede the fire of those

  Who held the place and to assist the foe’s.

  11

  This circumstance may serve to give a notion

  Of the high talents of this new Vauban.

  But the town ditch below was deep as ocean,

  The rampart higher than you’d wish to hang.

  But then there was a great want of precaution

  (Prithee, excuse this engineering slang),

  Nor work advanced, nor covered way was there

  To hint at least ‘here is no thoroughfare.’

  12

  But a stone bastion with a narrow gorge

  And walls as thick as most skulls born as yet,

  Two batteries, cap-à-pie as our St George,

  Casemated one, and t’other a barbette,

  Of Danube’s bank took formidable charge;

  While two and twenty cannon duly set

  Rose over the town’s right side in bristling tier,

  Forty feet high upon a cavalier.

  13

  But from the river the town’s open quite,

  Because the Turks could never be persuaded

  A Russian vessel e’er would heave in sight

  And such their creed was, till they were invaded,

  When it grew rather late to set things right.

  But as the Danube could not well be waded,

  They looked upon the Muscovite flotilla

  And only shouted, ‘Allah!’ and ‘Bis Millah!’

  14

  The Russians now were ready to attack.

  But oh, ye goddesses of war and glory!

  How shall I spell the name of each Cossack –

  Who were immortal, could one tell their story?

  Alas, what to their memory can lack?

  Achilles’ self was not more grim and gory

  Than thousands of this new and polished nation,

  Whose names want nothing but – pronunciation.

  15

  Still I’ll record a few, if but to increase

  Our euphony. There were Strongenoff and Strokonoff,

  Meknop, Serge Lwow, Arseniew of modern Greece,

  And Tschitsshakoff and Roguenoff and Chokenoff

  And others of twelve consonants apiece.

  And more might be found out, if I could poke enough

  Into gazettes; but Fame (capricious strumpet),

  It seems, has got an ear as well as trumpe
t

  16

  And cannot tune those discords of narration,

  Which may be names at Moscow, into rhyme.

  Yet there were several worth commemoration,

  As ere was virgin of a nuptial chime,

  Soft words too fitted for the peroration

  Of Londonderry, drawling against time,

  Ending in ischskin, ousckin, iffskchy, ouski,

  Of whom we can insert but Rousamouski,

  17

  Scherematoff and Chrematoff, Koklophti

  Koclobski, Kourakin, and Mouskin Pouskin,

  All proper men of weapons, as e’er scoffed high

  Against a foe or ran a sabre through skin.

  Little cared they for Mahomet or mufti,

  Unless to make their kettle drums a new skin

  Out of their hides, if parchment had grown dear

  And no more handy substitute been near.

  18

  Then there were foreigners of much renown,

  Of various nations and all volunteers,

  Not fighting for their country or its crown,

  But wishing to be one day brigadiers,

  Also to have the sacking of a town,

  A pleasant thing to young men at their years.

  ’Mongst them were several Englishmen of pith,

  Sixteen called Thomson and nineteen named Smith.

  19

  Jack Thomson and Bill Thomson – all the rest

  Had been called Jemmy, after the great bard.

  I don’t know whether they had arms or crest,

  But such a godfather’s as good a card.

  Three of the Smiths were Peters, but the best

  Amongst them all, hard blows to inflict or ward,

  Was he, since so renowned ‘in country quarters

  At Halifax’, but now he served the Tartars.

  20

  The rest were Jacks and Gills and Wills and Bills;

  But when I’ve added that the elder Jack Smith

  Was born in Cumberland among the hills

  And that his father was an honest blacksmith,

  I’ve said all I know of a name that fills

  Three lines of the dispatch in taking Schmacksmith,

  A village of Moldavia’s waste, wherein

  He fell, immortal in a bulletin.

  21

  I wonder (although Mars no doubt’s a god I

  Praise) if a man’s name in a bulletin

  May make up for a bullet in his body?

  I hope this little question is no sin,

  Because, though I am but a simple noddy,

  I think one Shakespeare puts the same thought in

  The mouth of some one in his plays so doting,

  Which many people pass for wits by quoting.

  22

  Then there were Frenchmen, gallant, young and gay,

  But I’m too great a patriot to record

  Their Gallic names upon a glorious day.

  I’d rather tell ten lies than say a word

  Of truth. Such truths are treason; they betray

  Their country, and as traitors are abhorred

  Who name the French in English, save to show

  How peace should make John Bull the Frenchman’s foe.

  23

  The Russians, having built two batteries on

  An isle near Ismail, had two ends in view.

  The first was to bombard it and knock down

  The public buildings and the private too,

  No matter what poor souls might be undone.

  The city’s shape suggested this, ’tis true;

  Formed like an amphitheatre, each dwelling

  Presented a fine mark to throw a shell in.

  24

  The second object was to profit by

  The moment of the general consternation,

  To attack the Turk’s flotilla, which lay nigh

  Extremely tranquil, anchored at its station.

  But a third motive was as probably

  To frighten them into capitulation,

  A phantasy which sometimes seizes warriors,

  Unless they are game as bulldogs and fox terriers.

  25

  A habit rather blameable, which is

  That of despising those we combat with,

  Common in many cases, was in this

  The cause of killing Tchitchitzkoff and Smith,

  One of the valourous Smiths whom we shall miss

  Out of those nineteen who late rhymed to pith;

  But ’tis a name so spread o’er Sir and Madam

  That one would think the first who bore it Adam.

  26

  The Russian batteries were incomplete,

  Because they were constructed in a hurry.

  Thus the same cause which makes a verse want feet

  And throws a cloud o’er Longman and John Murray,

  When the sale of new books is not so fleet

  As they who print them think is necessary,

  May likewise put off for a time what story

  Sometimes calls murder, and at others glory.

  27

  Whether it was their engineer’s stupidity,

  Their haste or waste I neither know nor care,

  Or some contractor’s personal cupidity,

  Saving his soul by cheating in the ware

  Of homicide, but there was no solidity

  In the new batteries erected there.

  They either missed or they were never missed

  And added greatly to the missing list.

  28

  A sad miscalculation about distance

  Made all their naval matters incorrect.

  Three fireships lost their amiable existence

  Before they reached a spot to take effect.

  The match was lit too soon, and no assistance

  Could remedy this lubberly defect.

  They blew up in the middle of the river,

  While, though ’twas dawn, the Turks slept fast as ever.

  29

  At seven they rose, however, and surveyed

  The Russ flotilla getting under way.

  ’Twas nine, when still advancing undismayed,

  Within a cable’s length their vessels lay

  Off Ismail and commenced a cannonade,

  Which was returned with interest, I may say,

  And by a fire of musketry and grape

  And shells and shot of every size and shape.

  30

  For six hours bore they without intermission

  The Turkish fire and aided by their own

  Land batteries worked their guns with great precision.

  At length they found mere cannonade alone

  By no means would produce the town’s submission,

  And made a signal to retreat at one.

  One bark blew up, a second near the works

  Running aground was taken by the Turks.

  31

  The Moslem too had lost both ships and men.

  But when they saw the enemy retire,

  Their delhis manned some boats and sailed again

  And galled the Russians with a heavy fire

  And tried to make a landing on the main;

  But here the effect fell short of their desire.

  Count Damas drove them back into the water

  Pell-mell and with a whole gazette of slaughter.

  32

  ‘If ’ (says the historian here) ‘I could report

  All that the Russians did upon this day,

  I think that several volumes would fall short,

  And I should still have many things to say’;

  And so he says no more, but pays his court

  To some distinguished strangers in that fray:

  The Prince de Ligne and Langeron and Damas,

  Names great as any that the roll of Fame has.

  33

  This being the case may show us what fame is.

  For out o
f these three preux chevaliers, how

  Many of common readers give a guess

  That such existed? And they may live now

  For aught we know. Renown’s all hit or miss;

  There’s fortune even in fame, we must allow.

  ’Tis true, the memoirs of the Prince de Ligne

  Have half withdrawn from him oblivion’s screen.

  34

  But here are men who fought in gallant actions

  As gallantly as ever heroes fought,

  But buried in the heap of such transactions

  Their names are rarely found nor often sought.

  Thus even good Fame may suffer sad contractions

  And is extinguished sooner than she ought.

  Of all our modern battles, I will bet

  You can’t repeat nine names from each Gazette.

  35

  In short, this last attack, though rich in glory,

  Showed that somewhere somehow there was a fault;

  And Admiral Ribas (known in Russian story)

  Most strongly recommended an assault,

  In which he was opposed by young and hoary,

  Which made a long debate. But I must halt,

  For if I wrote down every warrior’s speech,

  I doubt few readers e’er would mount the breach.

  36

  There was a man, if that he was a man,

  Not that his manhood could be called in question,

  For had he not been Hercules, his span

  Had been as short in youth as indigestion

  Made his last illness, when all worn and wan,

  He died beneath a tree, as much unblest on

  The soil of the green province he had wasted

  As e’er was locust on the land it blasted.

  37

  This was Potemkin, a great thing in days

  When homicide and harlotry made great.

  If stars and titles could entail long praise,

  His glory might half equal his estate.

  This fellow, being six foot high, could raise

  A kind of phantasy proportionate

  In the then sovereign of the Russian people,

  Who measured men as you would do a steeple.

  38

  While things were in abeyance, Ribas sent

  A courier to the Prince, and he succeeded

  In ordering matters after his own bent.

  I cannot tell the way in which he pleaded,

  But shortly he had cause to be content.

  In the meantime, the batteries proceeded,

  And fourscore cannon on the Danube’s border

  Were briskly fired and answered in due order.

  39

  But on the thirteenth, when already part

  Of the troops were embarked, the siege to raise,

  A courier on the spur inspired new heart

  Into all panters for newspaper praise,

  As well as dilettanti in war’s art,

  By his dispatches couched in pithy phrase

  Announcing the appointment of that lover of

 

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