"Stop!" so I stopped.--But to return: that which Men call inconstancy is nothing more Than admiration due where Nature's rich Profusion with young beauty covers o'er Some favoured object; and as in the niche A lovely statue we almost adore, This sort of adoration of the real Is but a heightening of the _beau ideal_. CCXII. 'T is the perception of the Beautiful, A fine extension of the faculties, Platonic, universal, wonderful, Drawn from the stars, and filtered through the skies, Without which Life would be extremely dull; In short, it is the use of our own eyes, With one or two small senses added, just To hint that flesh is formed of fiery dust.[cf] CCXIII. Yet 't is a painful feeling, and unwilling, For surely if we always could perceive In the same object graces quite as killing As when she rose upon us like an Eve, 'T would save us many a heartache, many a shilling, (For we must get them anyhow, or grieve), Whereas if one sole lady pleased for ever, How pleasant for the heart, as well as liver! CCXIV. The Heart is like the sky, a part of Heaven, But changes night and day, too, like the sky; Now o'er it clouds and thunder must be driven, And Darkness and Destruction as on high: But when it hath been scorched, and pierced, and riven, Its storms expire in water-drops; the eye Pours forth at last the Heart's blood turned to tears, Which make the English climate of our years. CCXV. The liver is the lazaret of bile, But very rarely executes its function, For the first passion stays there such a while, That all the rest creep in and form a junction, Like knots of vipers on a dunghill's soil--[168] Rage, fear, hate, jealousy, revenge, compunction-- So that all mischiefs spring up from this entrail, Like Earthquakes from the hidden fire called "central." CCXVI. In the mean time, without proceeding more In this anatomy, I've finished now Two hundred and odd stanzas as before,[cg] That being about the number I'll allow Each canto of the twelve, or twenty-four; And, laying down my pen, I make my bow, Leaving Don Juan and Haidée to plead For them and theirs with all who deign to read. FOOTNOTES: [96] Begun at Venice, December 13, 1818,-finished January 20, 1819. {81}[ay] _Lost that most precious stone of stones--his modesty_.--[MS.] {82}[97] [Compare "The Girl of Cadiz," _Poetical Works_, 1900, iii. 1, and note 1. [az] _But d----n me if I ever saw the like_.--[MS.] {83}[98] _Fazzioli_--literally, little handkerchiefs--the veils most availing of St. Mark.