Here stalks the victor, there the vanquish'd lies;
There captives led in triumph droop the eye, And in perspective many a squadron flies:
It seems the work of times before the line Of Rome transplanted fell with Constantine.
This massy portal stood at the wide close Of a huge hall, and on its either side Two little dwarfs, the least you could suppose, Were sate, like ugly imps, as if allied In mockery to the enormous gate which rose O'er them in almost pyramidic pride:
The gate so splendid was in all its features, You never thought about those little creatures, Until you nearly trod on them, and then You started back in horror to survey The wondrous hideousness of those small men, Whose colour was not black, nor white, nor grey, But an extraneous mixture, which no pen Can trace, although perhaps the pencil may;
They were mis-shapen pigmies, deaf and dumb-Monsters, who cost a no less monstrous sum.
Their duty was- for they were strong, and though They look'd so little, did strong things at times-To ope this door, which they could really do, The hinges being as smooth as Rogers' rhymes;
And now and then, with tough strings of the bow, As is the custom of those Eastern climes, To give some rebel Pacha a cravat;
For mutes are generally used for that.
They spoke by signs- that is, not spoke at all;
And looking like two incubi, they glared As Baba with his fingers made them fall To heaving back the portal folds: it scared Juan a moment, as this pair so small With shrinking serpent optics on him stared;
It was as if their little looks could poison Or fascinate whome'er they fix'd their eyes on.
Before they enter'd, Baba paused to hint To Juan some slight lessons as his guide:
'If you could just contrive,' he said, 'to stint That somewhat manly majesty of stride, 'T would be as well, and (though there 's not much in 't)
To swing a little less from side to side, Which has at times an aspect of the oddest;-And also could you look a little modest, ''T would be convenient; for these mutes have eyes Like needles, which may pierce those petticoats;
And if they should discover your disguise, You know how near us the deep Bosphorus floats;
And you and I may chance, ere morning rise, To find our way to Marmora without boats, Stitch'd up in sacks- a mode of navigation A good deal practised here upon occasion.'
With this encouragement, he led the way Into a room still nobler than the last;
A rich confusion form'd a disarray In such sort, that the eye along it cast Could hardly carry anything away, Object on object flash'd so bright and fast;
A dazzling mass of gems, and gold, and glitter, Magnificently mingled in a litter.
Wealth had done wonders- taste not much; such things Occur in Orient palaces, and even In the more chasten'd domes of Western kings (Of which I have also seen some six or seven), Where I can't say or gold or diamond flings Great lustre, there is much to be forgiven;
Groups of bad statues, tables, chairs, and pictures, On which I cannot pause to make my strictures.
In this imperial hall, at distance lay Under a canopy, and there reclined Quite in a confidential queenly way, A lady; Baba stopp'd, and kneeling sign'd To Juan, who though not much used to pray, Knelt down by instinct, wondering in his mind, What all this meant: while Baba bow'd and bended His head, until the ceremony ended.
The lady rising up with such an air As Venus rose with from the wave, on them Bent like an antelope a Paphian pair Of eyes, which put out each surrounding gem;
And raising up an arm as moonlight fair, She sign'd to Baba, who first kiss'd the hem Of her deep purple robe, and speaking low, Pointed to Juan who remain'd below.
Her presence was as lofty as her state;
Her beauty of that overpowering kind, Whose force description only would abate:
I 'd rather leave it much to your own mind, Than lessen it by what I could relate Of forms and features; it would strike you blind Could I do justice to the full detail;
So, luckily for both, my phrases fail.
Thus much however I may add,- her years Were ripe, they might make six-and-twenty springs;
But there are forms which Time to touch forbears, And turns aside his scythe to vulgar things, Such as was Mary's Queen of Scots; true- tears And love destroy; and sapping sorrow wrings Charms from the charmer, yet some never grow Ugly; for instance- Ninon de l'Enclos.
She spake some words to her attendants, who Composed a choir of girls, ten or a dozen, And were all clad alike; like Juan, too, Who wore their uniform, by Baba chosen;
They form'd a very nymph-like looking crew, Which might have call'd Diana's chorus 'cousin,'
As far as outward show may correspond;
I won't be bail for anything beyond.
They bow'd obeisance and withdrew, retiring, But not by the same door through which came in Baba and Juan, which last stood admiring, At some small distance, all he saw within This strange saloon, much fitted for inspiring Marvel and praise; for both or none things win;
And I must say, I ne'er could see the very Great happiness of the 'Nil Admirari.'
'Not to admire is all the art I know (Plain truth, dear Murray, needs few flowers of speech)
To make men happy, or to keep them so'
(So take it in the very words of Creech)-Thus Horace wrote we all know long ago;
And thus Pope quotes the precept to re-teach From his translation; but had none admired, Would Pope have sung, or Horace been inspired?
Baba, when all the damsels were withdrawn, Motion'd to Juan to approach, and then A second time desired him to kneel down, And kiss the lady's foot; which maxim when He heard repeated, Juan with a frown Drew himself up to his full height again, And said, 'It grieved him, but he could not stoop To any shoe, unless it shod the Pope.'
Baba, indignant at this ill-timed pride, Made fierce remonstrances, and then a threat He mutter'd (but the last was given aside)
About a bow-string- quite in vain; not yet Would Juan bend, though 't were to Mahomet's bride:
There 's nothing in the world like etiquette In kingly chambers or imperial halls, As also at the race and county balls.
