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She gazed upon a world she scarcely knew, As seeking not to know it; silent, lone, As grows a flower, thus quietly she grew, And kept her heart serene within its zone.
There was awe in the homage which she drew; Her spirit seemed as seated on a throne, Apart from the surrounding world, and strong In its own strength,--most strange in one so young!' Some idea of the course which their acquaintance took, and of the manner in which he was piqued into thinking of her, is given in a stanza or two:-- 'The dashing and proud air of Adeline Imposed not upon her: she saw her blaze Much as she would have seen a glow-worm shine; Then turned unto the stars for loftier rays.
Juan was something she could not divine, Being no sibyl in the new world's ways; Yet she was nothing dazzled by the meteor, Because she did not pin her faith on feature.
His fame too (for he had that kind of fame Which sometimes plays the deuce with womankind,-- A heterogeneous mass of glorious blame, Half virtues and whole vices being combined; Faults which attract because they are not tame; Follies tricked out so brightly that they blind),-- These seals upon her wax made no impression, Such was her coldness or her self-possession.
Aurora sat with that indifference Which piques a preux chevalier,--as it ought.
Of all offences, that's the worst offence Which seems to hint you are not worth a thought.
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To his gay nothings, nothing was replied, Or something which was nothing, as urbanity Required.