But first of little Leila we’ll dispose; For like a day-dawn she was young and pure, Or like the old comparison of snows, Which are more pure than pleasant to be sure. Like many people everybody knows, Don Juan was delighted to secure A goodly guardian for his infant charge, Who might not profit much by being at large. Besides, he had found out he was no tutor (I wish that others would find out the same); And rather wish’d in such things to stand neuter, For silly wards will bring their guardians blame: So when he saw each ancient dame a suitor To make his little wild Asiatic tame, Consulting ‘the Society for Vice Suppression,’ Lady Pinchbeck was his choice. Olden she was—but had been very young; Virtuous she was—and had been, I believe; Although the world has such an evil tongue That—but my chaster ear will not receive An echo of a syllable that ’s wrong: In fact, there’s nothing makes me so much grieve, As that abominable tittle-tattle, Which is the cud eschew’d by human cattle. Moreover I’ve remark’d (and I was once A slight observer in a modest way), And so may every one except a dunce, That ladies in their youth a little gay, Besides their knowledge of the world, and sense Of the sad consequence of going astray, Are wiser in their warnings ’gainst the woe Which the mere passionless can never know. While the harsh prude indemnifies her virtue By railing at the unknown and envied passion, Seeking far less to save you than to hurt you, Or, what ’s still worse, to put you out of fashion,— The kinder veteran with calm words will court you, Entreating you to pause before you dash on; Expounding and illustrating the riddle Of epic Love’s beginning, end, and middle. Now whether it be thus, or that they are stricter, As better knowing why they should be so, I think you’ll find from many a family picture, That daughters of such mothers as may know The world by experience rather than by lecture, Turn out much better for the Smithfield Show Of vestals brought into the marriage mart, Than those bred up by prudes without a heart. I said that Lady Pinchbeck had been talk’d about— As who has not, if female, young, and pretty? But now no more the ghost of Scandal stalk’d about; She merely was deem’d amiable and witty, And several of her best bon-mots were hawk’d about: Then she was given to charity and pity, And pass’d (at least the latter years of life) For being a most exemplary wife. High in high circles, gentle in her own, She was the mild reprover of the young, Whenever—which means every day—they’d shown An awkward inclination to go wrong. The quantity of good she did ’s unknown, Or at the least would lengthen out my song: In brief, the little orphan of the East Had raised an interest in her, which increased.