The courtiers stared, the ladies whispered, and The Empress smiled: the reigning favourite frowned--[jh] I quite forget which of them was in hand Just then, as they are rather numerous found,[507] Who took, by turns, that difficult command Since first her Majesty was singly crowned:[508] But they were mostly nervous six-foot fellows, All fit to make a Patagonian jealous. XLVII. Juan was none of these, but slight and slim, Blushing and beardless; and, yet, ne'ertheless, There was a something in his turn of limb, And still more in his eye, which seemed to express, That, though he looked one of the Seraphim, There lurked a man beneath the Spirit's dress. Besides, the Empress sometimes liked a boy, And had just buried the fair-faced Lanskoi.[ji][509] XLVIII. No wonder then that Yermoloff, or Momonoff,[510] Or Scherbatoff, or any other _off_ Or _on_, might dread her Majesty had not room enough Within her bosom (which was not too tough), For a new flame; a thought to cast of gloom enough Along the aspect, whether smooth or rough, Of him who, in the language of his station, Then held that "high official situation." XLIX. O gentle ladies! should you seek to know The import of this diplomatic phrase, Bid Ireland's Londonderry's Marquess[511] show His parts of speech, and in the strange displays Of that odd string of words, all in a row, Which none divine, and every one obeys, Perhaps you may pick out some queer _no_ meaning,-- Of that weak wordy harvest the sole gleaning. L. I think I can explain myself without That sad inexplicable beast of prey-- That Sphinx, whose words would ever be a doubt, Did not his deeds unriddle them each day-- That monstrous hieroglyphic--that long spout Of blood and water--leaden Castlereagh! And here I must an anecdote relate, But luckily of no great length or weight. LI. An English lady asked of an Italian, What were the actual and official duties Of the strange thing some women set a value on, Which hovers oft about some married beauties, Called "Cavalier Servente?"[512]--a Pygmalion Whose statues warm (I fear, alas! too true 't is) Beneath his art:[jj]--the dame, pressed to disclose them, Said--"Lady, I beseech you to _suppose them_." LII. And thus I supplicate your supposition, And mildest, matron-like interpretation, Of the imperial favourite's condition. 'T was a high place, the highest in the nation In fact, if not in rank; and the suspicion Of any one's attaining to his station, No doubt gave pain, where each new pair of shoulders, If rather broad, made stocks rise--and their holders.