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 Baba, when all the damsels were withdrawn, Motion’d to Juan to approach, and then A second time desired him to kneel down, And kiss the lady’s foot; which maxim when He heard repeated, Juan with a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 ’twere 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. He stood like Atlas, with a world of words About his ears, and nathless would not bend: The blood of all his line ’s Castilian lords Boil’d in his veins, and rather than descend To stain his pedigree a thousand swords A thousand times of him had made an end; At length perceiving the ‘foot’ could not stand, Baba proposed that he should kiss the hand. Here was an honourable compromise, A half-way house of diplomatic rest, Where they might meet in much more peaceful guise; And Juan now his willingness exprest To use all fit and proper courtesies, Adding, that this was commonest and best, For through the South the custom still commands The gentleman to kiss the lady’s hands. And he advanced, though with but a bad grace, Though on more thorough-bred or fairer fingers No lips e’er left their transitory trace; On such as these the lip too fondly lingers, And for one kiss would fain imprint a brace, As you will see, if she you love shall bring hers In contact; and sometimes even a fair stranger’s An almost twelvemonth’s constancy endangers.