DON JUAN: You know, as I was saying, what a debt
Germany has owed us since our fair Maria
Her title of the Royal Child of Spain
Set in the crown of Hungary--a debt
They only could repay us as they do,
Returning us one of the self-same stock,
So like herself in beauty and desert,
We seem but taking what we gave away.
If into Austria's royal hand we gave
Our royal rose, she now returns us one
Sprung of the self-same stem, as fair, as sweet
In maiden graces; and if double-dyed
In the imperial purple, yet so fresh,
She scarce has drunk the dawns of fourteen Aprils.
The marriage contract signed, the marriage self
Delayed, too long for loyal Spain's desire,
That like the bridegroom for her coming burned,
(But happiness were hardly happiness
Limped it not late,) till her defective years
Reached their due blossom--Ah, happy defect,
That every unconditioned hour amends!
At last arose the day--the day of days--
When from her royal eyrie in the North
The imperial eaglet flew. Young Ferdinand,
King of Bohemia and Hungary
Elect, who not in vain Rome's holy hand
Awaits to bind the laurel round his brow,
As proxy for our king espoused her first,
And then, all lover-like, as far as Trent
Escorted her, with such an equipage
As when the lords and princes of three realms
Out-do each other in magnificence
Of gold and jewel, ransacked from the depths
Of earth and sea, to glitter in the eye
Of Him who sees and lights up all from heaven.
So, like a splendid star that trails her light
Far after her, she crossed fair Italy,
When Doria, Genoa's great Admiral,
Always so well-affected to our crown,
Took charge of her sea-conduct; which awhile,
Till winds and seas were fair, she waited for
In Milan, till, resolved on embarkation,
The sea, that could not daunt her with his rage,
Soon as her foot was on his yellow shore,
Call'd up his Tritons and his Nereids
Who love and make calm, to smooth his face
And still his heaving breast; on whose blue flood
The golden galley in defiance burn'd,
Her crew in wedding pearl and silver dressed;
Her silken sail and cordage, fluttering
With myriad flags and streamers of all dye,
Sway's like a hanging garden over-head,
Amid whose blossoms stood the royal bride,
A fairer Venus than did ever float
Over the seas to her dominions
Arm'd with the arrows of diviner love.
Then to the sound of trump and clarion
The royal galley, and with her forty more
That follow'd in her wake as on their queen,
Weigh'd, shook out sail, and dipp'd all oars at once,
Making the flood clap hands in acclamation;
And so with all their streamers, as 'twere spring
Floating away to other hemispheres,
Put out to sea; and touching not the isles
That gem the midway deep--not from distrust
Of friendly France in whose crown they are set,
And who (as mighty states contend their peace
With courtesies as with hard blows in war)
Swell'd the triumphal tide with pageantries
I may not stop to tell--but borne upon,
And (as I think) bearing, fair wind and wave,
The moving city on its moving base
With sail and oar enter'd the Spanish Main,
Which, flashing emerald and diamond,
Leap'd round the golden prow that clove between,
And kiss'd the happy shore that first declined
To meet its mistress. Happy Denia,
That in her golden sand holds pearly-like
The first impression of that royal foot!
I will not tell--let Felix, who was here,
And has new breath--how, landed happily,
Our loyal Spain--yea, with what double welcome--
Received the niece and consort of our king,
Whom, one and both, and both in one, may Heaven
Bless with fair issue, and all happiness,
For years and years to come!