.

.
But Juan had a sort of winning way, A proud humility, if such there be, Which showed such deference to what females say, As if each charming word were a decree.
His tact, too, tempered him from grave to gay, And taught him when to be reserved or free.
He had the art of drawing people out, Without their seeing what he was about.
Aurora, who in her indifference, Confounded him in common with the crowd Of flatterers, though she deemed he had more sense Than whispering foplings or than witlings loud, Commenced (from such slight things will great commence) To feel that flattery which attracts the proud, Rather by deference than compliment, And wins even by a delicate dissent.
And then he had good looks: that point was carried Nem.con.amongst the women.
.

.

.

.
Now, though we know of old that looks deceive, And always have done, somehow these good looks, Make more impression than the best of books.
Aurora, who looked more on books than faces, Was very young, although so very sage: Admiring more Minerva than the Graces, Especially upon a printed page.
But Virtue's self, with all her tightest laces, Has not the natural stays of strict old age; And Socrates, that model of all duty, Owned to a penchant, though discreet for beauty.' The presence of this high-minded, thoughtful, unworldly woman is described through two cantos of the wild, rattling 'Don Juan,' in a manner that shows how deeply the poet was capable of being affected by such an appeal to his higher nature.
For instance, when Don Juan sits silent and thoughtful amid a circle of persons who are talking scandal, the poet says,-- ''Tis true, he saw Aurora look as though She approved his silence: she perhaps mistook Its motive for that charity we owe, But seldom pay, the absent.
.