Man's a phenomenon, one knows not what, And wonderful beyond all wondrous measure; 'T is pity though, in this sublime world, that Pleasure's a sin, and sometimes Sin's a pleasure;[x] Few mortals know what end they would be at, But whether Glory, Power, or Love, or Treasure, The path is through perplexing ways, and when The goal is gained, we die, you know--and then---- CXXXIV. What then?--I do not know, no more do you-- And so good night.--Return we to our story: 'T was in November, when fine days are few, And the far mountains wax a little hoary, And clap a white cape on their mantles blue;[y] And the sea dashes round the promontory, And the loud breaker boils against the rock, And sober suns must set at five o'clock. CXXXV. 'T was, as the watchmen say, a cloudy night;[z] No moon, no stars, the wind was low or loud By gusts, and many a sparkling hearth was bright With the piled wood, round which the family crowd; There's something cheerful in that sort of light, Even as a summer sky's without a cloud: I'm fond of fire, and crickets, and all that,[aa][71] A lobster salad[72], and champagne, and chat. CXXXVI. 'T was midnight--Donna Julia was in bed, Sleeping, most probably,--when at her door Arose a clatter might awake the dead, If they had never been awoke before, And that they have been so we all have read, And are to be so, at the least, once more;-- The door was fastened, but with voice and fist First knocks were heard, then "Madam--Madam--hist! CXXXVII. "For God's sake, Madam--Madam--here's my master,[73] With more than half the city at his back-- Was ever heard of such a curst disaster! 'T is not my fault--I kept good watch--Alack! Do pray undo the bolt a little faster-- They're on the stair just now, and in a crack Will all be here; perhaps he yet may fly-- Surely the window's not so _very_ high!" CXXXVIII. By this time Don Alfonso was arrived, With torches, friends, and servants in great number; The major part of them had long been wived, And therefore paused not to disturb the slumber Of any wicked woman, who contrived By stealth her husband's temples to encumber: Examples of this kind are so contagious, Were _one_ not punished, _all_ would be outrageous. CXXXIX. I can't tell how, or why, or what suspicion Could enter into Don Alfonso's head; But for a cavalier of his condition It surely was exceedingly ill-bred, Without a word of previous admonition, To hold a levee round his lady's bed, And summon lackeys, armed with fire and sword, To prove himself the thing he most abhorred. CXL.