I think it may be of "Corinthian Brass,"[351] Which was a mixture of all metals, but The brazen uppermost). Kind reader! pass This long parenthesis: I could not shut It sooner for the soul of me, and class My faults even with your own! which meaneth, Put A kind construction upon them and me: But _that_ you won't--then don't--I am not less free. LVII. 'T is time we should return to plain narration, And thus my narrative proceeds:--Dudù, With every kindness short of ostentation, Showed Juan, or Juanna, through and through This labyrinth of females, and each station Described--what's strange--in words extremely few: I have but one simile, and that's a blunder, For wordless woman, which is _silent_ thunder.[gx] LVIII. And next she gave her (I say _her_, because The gender still was epicene, at least In outward show, which is a saving clause) An outline of the customs of the East, With all their chaste integrity of laws, By which the more a Harem is increased, The stricter doubtless grow the vestal duties Of any supernumerary beauties. LIX. And then she gave Juanna a chaste kiss: Dudú was fond of kissing--which I'm sure That nobody can ever take amiss, Because 't is pleasant, so that it be pure, And between females means no more than this-- That they have nothing better near, or newer. "Kiss" rhymes to "bliss" in fact as well as verse-- I wish it never led to something worse. LX. In perfect innocence she then unmade Her toilet, which cost little, for she was A child of Nature, carelessly arrayed: If fond of a chance ogle at her glass, 'T was like the fawn, which, in the lake displayed, Beholds her own shy, shadowy image pass, When first she starts, and then returns to peep, Admiring this new native of the deep. LXI. And one by one her articles of dress Were laid aside; but not before she offered Her aid to fair Juanna, whose excess Of modesty declined the assistance proffered: Which passed well off--as she could do no less; Though by this _politesse_ she rather suffered, Pricking her fingers with those cursed pins, Which surely were invented for our sins,-- LXII. Making a woman like a porcupine, Not to be rashly touched. But still more dread, Oh ye! whose fate it is, as once 't was mine, In early youth, to turn a lady's maid;-- I did my very boyish best to shine In tricking her out for a masquerade: The pins were placed sufficiently, but not Stuck all exactly in the proper spot. LXIII.