The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero)/Poetry/Volume 6/Don Juan/Canto II

by George Gordon Byron

CANTO THE SECOND.^{[N 1]}

Oh ye! who teach the ingenuous youth of nations,
Holland, France, England, Germany, or Spain,
I pray ye flog them upon all occasions—
It mends their morals, never mind the pain:
The best of mothers and of educations
In Juan's case were but employed in vain,
Since, in a way that's rather of the oddest, he
Became divested of his native modesty.^{[V 1]}

II.
Had he but been placed at a public school,
In the third form, or even in the fourth,
His daily task had kept his fancy cool,
At least, had he been nurtured in the North;
Spain may prove an exception to the rule,
But then exceptions always prove its worth—
A lad of sixteen causing a divorce
Puzzled his tutors very much, of course.

III.
I can't say that it puzzles me at all,
If all things be considered: first, there was
His lady-mother, mathematical,
A———never mind;—his tutor, an old ass;
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The sort of sound we echo with a tear,
Without knowing why—an overpowering tone,
Whence Melody descends as from a throne.

CLII.
And Juan gazed as one who is awoke
By a distant organ, doubting if he be
Not yet a dreamer, till the spell is broke
By the watchman, or some such reality,
Or by one's early valet's curséd knock;
At least it is a heavy sound to me,
Who like a morning slumber—for the night
Shows stars and women in a better light.

CLIII.
And Juan, too, was helped out from his dream,
Or sleep, or whatsoe'er it was, by feeling
A most prodigious appetite; the steam
Of Zoe's cookery no doubt was stealing
Upon his senses, and the kindling beam
Of the new fire, which Zoe kept up, kneeling,
To stir her viands, made him quite awake
And long for food, but chiefly a beef-steak.

CLIV.
But beef is rare within these oxless isles;
Goat's flesh there is, no doubt, and kid, and mutton,
And, when a holiday upon them smiles,
A joint upon their barbarous spits they put on:
But this occurs but seldom, between whiles,
For some of these are rocks with scarce a hut on;
Others are fair and fertile, among which
This, though not large, was one of the most rich.

CLV.
I say that beef is rare, and can't help thinking
That the old fable of the Minotaur—
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Variants

1. Lost that most precious stone of stones—his modesty.—[MS.]
2. That finer melody was never heard,
   The kind of sound whose echo is a tear,
   Whose accents are the steps of Music's throne.^{[S 1]}—[MS.]

Notes

1. Begun at Venice, December 13, 1818,—finished January 20, 1819.

Footnotes to Footnotes

1. ["To the Publisher. Take of these varieties which is thought best. I have no choice."]