"My breast has been all weakness, is so yet; But still I think I can collect my mind;[ap] My blood still rushes where my spirit's set, As roll the waves before the settled wind; My heart is feminine, nor can forget-- To all, except one image, madly blind; So shakes the needle, and so stands the pole, As vibrates my fond heart to my fixed soul.[aq] CXCVII. "I have no more to say, but linger still, And dare not set my seal upon this sheet, And yet I may as well the task fulfil, My misery can scarce be more complete; I had not lived till now, could sorrow kill; Death shuns the wretch who fain the blow would meet, And I must even survive this last adieu, And bear with life, to love and pray for you!" CXCVIII. This note was written upon gilt-edged paper With a neat little crow-quill, slight and new;[ar] Her small white hand could hardly reach the taper, It trembled as magnetic needles do, And yet she did not let one tear escape her; The seal a sun-flower; _"Elle vous suit partout,"_[85] The motto cut upon a white cornelian; The wax was superfine, its hue vermilion. CXCIX. This was Don Juan's earliest scrape; but whether I shall proceed with his adventures is Dependent on the public altogether; We'll see, however, what they say to this: Their favour in an author's cap's a feather, And no great mischief's done by their caprice; And if their approbation we experience, Perhaps they'll have some more about a year hence. CC. My poem's epic, and is meant to be Divided in twelve books; each book containing, With Love, and War, a heavy gale at sea, A list of ships, and captains, and kings reigning, New characters; the episodes are three:[as] A panoramic view of Hell's in training, After the style of Virgil and of Homer, So that my name of Epic's no misnomer. CCI. All these things will be specified in time, With strict regard to Aristotle's rules, The _Vade Mecum_ of the true sublime, Which makes so many poets, and some fools: Prose poets like blank-verse, I'm fond of rhyme, Good workmen never quarrel with their tools; I've got new mythological machinery, And very handsome supernatural scenery. CCII. There's only one slight difference between Me and my epic brethren gone before, And here the advantage is my own, I ween (Not that I have not several merits more, But this will more peculiarly be seen); They so embellish, that 't is quite a bore Their labyrinth of fables to thread through, Whereas this story's actually true. CCIII.