And thus Lord Henry, who was cautious as Reserve and pride could make him, and full slow In judging men—when once his judgment was Determined, right or wrong, on friend or foe, Had all the pertinacity pride has, Which knows no ebb to its imperious flow, And loves or hates, disdaining to be guided, Because its own good pleasure hath decided. His friendships, therefore, and no less aversions, Though oft well founded, which confirm’d but more His prepossessions, like the laws of Persians And Medes, would ne’er revoke what went before. His feelings had not those strange fits, like tertians, Of common likings, which make some deplore What they should laugh at—the mere ague still Of men’s regard, the fever or the chill. ‘’Tis not in mortals to command success: But do you more, Sempronius—don’t deserve it,’ And take my word, you won’t have any less. Be wary, watch the time, and always serve it; Give gently way, when there’s too great a press; And for your conscience, only learn to nerve it, For, like a racer, or a boxer training, ’Twill make, if proved, vast efforts without paining. Lord Henry also liked to be superior, As most men do, the little or the great; The very lowest find out an inferior, At least they think so, to exert their state Upon: for there are very few things wearier Than solitary Pride’s oppressive weight, Which mortals generously would divide, By bidding others carry while they ride. In birth, in rank, in fortune likewise equal, O’er Juan he could no distinction claim; In years he had the advantage of time’s sequel; And, as he thought, in country much the same— Because bold Britons have a tongue and free quill, At which all modern nations vainly aim; And the Lord Henry was a great debater, So that few members kept the house up later. These were advantages: and then he thought— It was his foible, but by no means sinister— That few or none more than himself had caught Court mysteries, having been himself a minister: He liked to teach that which he had been taught, And greatly shone whenever there had been a stir; And reconciled all qualities which grace man, Always a patriot, and sometimes a placeman. He liked the gentle Spaniard for his gravity; He almost honour’d him for his docility; Because, though young, he acquiesced with suavity, Or contradicted but with proud humility. He knew the world, and would not see depravity In faults which sometimes show the soil’s fertility, If that the weeds o’erlive not the first crop— For then they are very difficult to stop. And then he talk’d with him about Madrid, Constantinople, and such distant places; Where people always did as they were bid, Or did what they should not with foreign graces. Of coursers also spake they: Henry rid Well, like most Englishmen, and loved the races; And Juan, like a true-born Andalusian, Could back a horse, as despots ride a Russian.