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'Bride of the Sun! and Sister of the Moon!'<br/>
('T was thus he spake) 'and Empress of the Earth!<br/>
Whose frown would put the spheres all out of tune,<br/>
Whose smile makes all the planets dance with mirth,<br/>
Your slave brings tidings—he hopes not too soon—<br/>
Which your sublime attention may be worth:<br/>
The Sun himself has sent me like a ray,<br/>
To hint that he is coming up this way.'<br/>
<br/>
'Is it,' exclaim'd Gulbeyaz, 'as you say?<br/>
I wish to heaven he would not shine till morning!<br/>
But bid my women form the milky way.<br/>
Hence, my old comet! give the stars due warning—<br/>
And, Christian! mingle with them as you may,<br/>
And as you 'd have me pardon your past scorning-'<br/>
Here they were interrupted by a humming<br/>
Sound, and then by a cry, 'The Sultan 's coming!'<br/>
<br/>
First came her damsels, a decorous file,<br/>
And then his Highness' eunuchs, black and white;<br/>
The train might reach a quarter of a mile:<br/>
His majesty was always so polite<br/>
As to announce his visits a long while<br/>
Before he came, especially at night;<br/>
For being the last wife of the Emperour,<br/>
She was of course the favorite of the four.<br/>
<br/>
His Highness was a man of solemn port,<br/>
Shawl'd to the nose, and bearded to the eyes,<br/>
Snatch'd from a prison to preside at court,<br/>
His lately bowstrung brother caused his rise;<br/>
He was as good a sovereign of the sort<br/>
As any mention'd in the histories<br/>
Of Cantemir, or Knolles, where few shine<br/>
Save Solyman, the glory of their line.<br/>
<br/>
He went to mosque in state, and said his prayers<br/>
With more than 'Oriental scrupulosity;'<br/>
He left to his vizier all state affairs,<br/>
And show'd but little royal curiosity:<br/>
I know not if he had domestic cares—<br/>
No process proved connubial animosity;<br/>
Four wives and twice five hundred maids, unseen,<br/>
Were ruled as calmly as a Christian queen.<br/>
<br/>
If now and then there happen'd a slight slip,<br/>
Little was heard of criminal or crime;<br/>
The story scarcely pass'd a single lip—<br/>
The sack and sea had settled all in time,<br/>
From which the secret nobody could rip:<br/>
The Public knew no more than does this rhyme;<br/>
No scandals made the daily press a curse—<br/>
Morals were better, and the fish no worse.<br/>
<br/>
He saw with his own eyes the moon was round,<br/>
Was also certain that the earth was square,<br/>
Because he had journey'd fifty miles, and found<br/>
No sign that it was circular anywhere;<br/>
His empire also was without a bound:<br/>
'T is true, a little troubled here and there,<br/>
By rebel pachas, and encroaching giaours,<br/>
But then they never came to 'the Seven Towers;'<br/>
<br/>
Except in shape of envoys, who were sent<br/>
To lodge there when a war broke out, according<br/>
To the true law of nations, which ne'er meant<br/>
Those scoundrels, who have never had a sword in<br/>
Their dirty diplomatic hands, to vent<br/>
Their spleen in making strife, and safely wording<br/>
Their lies, yclep'd despatches, without risk or<br/>
The singeing of a single inky whisker.<br/>
<br/>
He had fifty daughters and four dozen sons,<br/>
Of whom all such as came of age were stow'd,<br/>
The former in a palace, where like nuns<br/>
They lived till some Bashaw was sent abroad,<br/>
When she, whose turn it was, was wed at once,<br/>
Sometimes at six years old—though it seems odd,<br/>
'T is true; the reason is, that the Bashaw<br/>
Must make a present to his sire in law.<br/>
<br/>
His sons were kept in prison, till they grew<br/>
Of years to fill a bowstring or the throne,<br/>
One or the other, but which of the two<br/>
Could yet be known unto the fates alone;<br/>
Meantime the education they went through<br/>
Was princely, as the proofs have always shown:<br/>
So that the heir apparent still was found<br/>
No less deserving to be hang'd than crown'd.<br/>
<br/>
His majesty saluted his fourth spouse<br/>
With all the ceremonies of his rank,<br/>
Who clear'd her sparkling eyes and smooth'd her brows,<br/>
As suits a matron who has play'd a prank;<br/>
These must seem doubly mindful of their vows,<br/>
To save the credit of their breaking bank:<br/>
To no men are such cordial greetings given<br/>
As those whose wives have made them fit for heaven.<br/>
<br/>
His Highness cast around his great black eyes,<br/>
And looking, as he always look'd, perceived<br/>
Juan amongst the damsels in disguise,<br/>
At which he seem'd no whit surprised nor grieved,<br/>
But just remark'd with air sedate and wise,<br/>
While still a fluttering sigh Gulbeyaz heaved,<br/>
'I see you 've bought another girl; 't is pity<br/>
That a mere Christian should be half so pretty.'<br/>
<br/>
This compliment, which drew all eyes upon<br/>
The new-bought virgin, made her blush and shake.<br/>
Her comrades, also, thought themselves undone:<br/>
O! Mahomet! that his majesty should take<br/>
Such notice of a giaour, while scarce to one<br/>
Of them his lips imperial ever spake!<br/>
There was a general whisper, toss, and wriggle,<br/>
But etiquette forbade them all to giggle.<br/>
<br/>
The Turks do well to shut—at least, sometimes—<br/>
The women up, because, in sad reality,<br/>
Their chastity in these unhappy climes<br/>
Is not a thing of that astringent quality<br/>
Which in the North prevents precocious crimes,<br/>
And makes our snow less pure than our morality;<br/>
The sun, which yearly melts the polar ice,<br/>
Has quite the contrary effect on vice.<br/>
<br/>
Thus in the East they are extremely strict,<br/>
And Wedlock and a Padlock mean the same;<br/>
Excepting only when the former 's pick'd<br/>
It ne'er can be replaced in proper frame;<br/>
Spoilt, as a pipe of claret is when prick'd:<br/>
But then their own Polygamy 's to blame;<br/>
Why don't they knead two virtuous souls for life<br/>
Into that moral centaur, man and wife?<br/>
<br/>
Thus far our chronicle; and now we pause,<br/>
Though not for want of matter; but 't is time<br/>
According to the ancient epic laws,<br/>
To slacken sail, and anchor with our rhyme.<br/>
Let this fifth canto meet with due applause,<br/>
The sixth shall have a touch of the sublime;<br/>
Meanwhile, as Homer sometimes sleeps, perhaps<br/>
You 'll pardon to my muse a few short naps.<br/>
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