All tragedies are finish’d by a death, All comedies are ended by a marriage; The future states of both are left to faith, For authors fear description might disparage The worlds to come of both, or fall beneath, And then both worlds would punish their miscarriage; So leaving each their priest and prayer-book ready, They say no more of Death or of the Lady. The only two that in my recollection Have sung of heaven and hell, or marriage, are Dante and Milton, and of both the affection Was hapless in their nuptials, for some bar Of fault or temper ruin’d the connection (Such things, in fact, it don’t ask much to mar): But Dante’s Beatrice and Milton’s Eve Were not drawn from their spouses, you conceive. Some persons say that Dante meant theology By Beatrice, and not a mistress—I, Although my opinion may require apology, Deem this a commentator’s fantasy, Unless indeed it was from his own knowledge he Decided thus, and show’d good reason why; I think that Dante’s more abstruse ecstatics Meant to personify the mathematics. Haidee and Juan were not married, but The fault was theirs, not mine; it is not fair, Chaste reader, then, in any way to put The blame on me, unless you wish they were; Then if you’d have them wedded, please to shut The book which treats of this erroneous pair, Before the consequences grow too awful; ’Tis dangerous to read of loves unlawful. Yet they were happy,—happy in the illicit Indulgence of their innocent desires; But more imprudent grown with every visit, Haidee forgot the island was her sire’s; When we have what we like, ’tis hard to miss it, At least in the beginning, ere one tires; Thus she came often, not a moment losing, Whilst her piratical papa was cruising. Let not his mode of raising cash seem strange, Although he fleeced the flags of every nation, For into a prime minister but change His title, and ’tis nothing but taxation; But he, more modest, took an humbler range Of life, and in an honester vocation Pursued o’er the high seas his watery journey, And merely practised as a sea-attorney. The good old gentleman had been detain’d By winds and waves, and some important captures; And, in the hope of more, at sea remain’d, Although a squall or two had damp’d his raptures, By swamping one of the prizes; he had chain’d His prisoners, dividing them like chapters In number’d lots; they all had cuffs and collars, And averaged each from ten to a hundred dollars. Some he disposed of off Cape Matapan, Among his friends the Mainots; some he sold To his Tunis correspondents, save one man Toss’d overboard unsaleable (being old); The rest—save here and there some richer one, Reserved for future ransom—in the hold Were link’d alike, as for the common people he Had a large order from the Dey of Tripoli.