For there were but three shirts between the two;
But on they rode upon two Ukraine hacks,
Till, in approaching, were at length descried,
In this plain pair, Souvaroff and his guide.

Certes matters took a different face : There was enthusiasm and much applause, The fleet and camp saluted with great grace, And all presaged good fortune to their cause Within a cannon-shot length of the place

They drew, constructed ladders, repaired flaws In former works, made new, prepared fascines, And all kinds of benevolent machines.

'Tis thus the spirit of a single mind

Makes that of multitudes take one direction, As roll the waters to the breathing wind,

Or roains the herd beneath the bull's protection;

Or as a little dog will lead the blind,

Or a bell-wether form the flock's connexion
By tinkling sounds, when they go forth to victual;
Such is the sway of your great men o'er little,

The whole camp rung with joy; you would have thought
That they were going to a marriage feast :
(This metaphor, I think, holds good as aught,
Since there is discord after both at least.)
There was not now a luggage-boy but sought
Danger and spoil with ardour much increased.
And why? because a little, odd, old man,
Stripped to his shirt, was come to lead the van.

*

*

New batteries were erected; and was held

A general council, in which unanimity,
That stranger to most councils, here prevailed,
As sometimes happens in a great extremity;

And, every difficulty being dispelled,

Glory began to dawn with due sublimity,
While Souvaroff, determined to obtain it,
Was teaching his recruits to use the bayonet.*
Fact: Souvaroff did this in person.

It is an actual fact, that he, commander

In chief, in proper person deigued to drill
The awkward squad, and could afford to squander
His time a corporal's duty to fulfil;

Just as you'd break a sucking salamander

To swallow flame, and never take it ill:
He showed them how to mount a ladder (which
Was not like Jacob's) or to cross a ditch.

Also he dressed up, for the nonce, fascines

Like men with turbans, scimitars, and dirks,
And made them charge with bayonet these machines,
By way of lesson against actual Turks;
And, when well practised in these mimic seenes,

He judged them proper to assail the works;

At which your wise men sneered in phrases witty :-
He made no answer; but he took the city.

The army is preparing for the attack on the following day, when five persons are brought in by a party of Cossacques. These are no other than our hero-his friend the Englishman, who was exposed for sale with him at Constantinople—and two Turkish women and a man. Johnson, the Englishman, is known to Souvaroff by his having formerly served in a Russian regiment. He is placed by the old general in the same post again; Juan is taken to the general's tent; and the two ladies, at the request of the males, are put in a place of safety. From this time we hear nothing more of them, nor are we even told who they are, so that the reader is at full liberty to suppose them to be Gulleyaz, Dudù, and Baba, or any others whom he may choose to fancy. All that is said upon the subject is by Johnson, who tells Souvaroff,

These are two Turkish ladies, who

With their attendant aided our escape.

So that in all probability Gulleyaz' sanguinary determination was changed either by persuasions or by her passion, or by accident, and they thus find themselves before Ismail.

The canto ends with a fine description of the night before the battle:

Hark! through the silence of the cold dull night,
The hum of armies gathering rank on rank!

Lo! dusky masses steal in dubious sight

Along the leaguered wall and bristling bank

Of the armed river, while with straggling light
The stars peep through the vapours dim and dank,
Which curl in curious wreaths-How soon the smoke
Of hell shall pall them in a deeper cloak!

Here pause we for the present-as even then
That awful pause, dividing life from death,
Struck for an instant on the hearts of men,

Thousands of whom were drawing their last breath!
A moment and all will be life again!

The march the charge! the shouts of either faith !
Hurra! and Allah! and-one moment more-

The death-cry drowning in the battle's roar.

The assault is narrated in a way which shows that, besotted as his Muse had become, Lord Byron possessed the power of description in an eminent degree. We pass over these details to follow the progress of the hero:

Juan and Johnson joined a certain corps,

And fought away with might and main, not knowing
The way, which they had never trod before,

And still less guessing where they might be going;
But on they marched, dead bodies trampling o'er,
Firing, and thrusting, slashing, sweating, glowing,
But fighting thoughtlessly enough to win,
To their two selves, one whole bright bulletin.

Thus on they wallowed in the bloody mire

Of dead and dying thousands-sometimes gaining
A yard or two of ground, which brought them nigher
To some odd angle for which all were straining;
At other times, repulsed by the close fire,

Which really poured as if all hell were raining,
Instead of heaven, they stumbled backwards o'er
A wounded comrade sprawling in his gore,

Though 'twas Don Juan's first of fields, and though
The nightly muster and the silent march

In the chill dark, when courage does not glow
So much as under a triumphal arch,
Perhaps might make him shiver, yawn, or throw

A glance on the dull clouds, (as thick as starch,

Published by J. Robins and Co. London, November 19, 1824.