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And thus at Venice landed to reclaim
His wife,religion,house, and Christian nan

But he grew rich, and with his riches grew so | Or else the people would perhaps have sh
Keen the desire to see his home again,
him;
He thought himself in duty bound to do so,
And not be always thieving on the main;
Lonely he felt, at times, as Robin Crusoe,
And so he hired a vessel come from Spain,
Bound for Córfu; she was a fine polacca,
Mann'd with twelve hands, and laden with
tobacco,

Himself, and much (heaven knows how
gotten) cash,
He then embark'd, with risk of life and limb,
And got clear off, although the attempt was
rash;

He said that Providence protected him—
For my part, I say nothing, lest we clash
In our opinions:-well, the ship was trim,
Set sail, and kept her reckoning fairly on,
Except three days of calm when off Cape
Bonn.

They reach'd the island, he transferr❜d his lading,

And self and live-stock, to another bottom, And pass'd for a true Turkey-merchant, trading

With goods of various names, but I've for

got 'em. However, he got off by this evading,

His wife received, the patriarch re-baptiz him,

(He made the church a present by the way He then threw off the garments which di

guised him,

And borrow'd the Count's small-clothes f
a day;
His friends the more for his long absen
prized him,
Finding he'd wherewithal to make them ga
With dinners, where he oft became t

laugh of them,

For stories,-but I don't believe the hi of them.

Whate'er his youth had suffer'd, his old a With wealth and talking made him son amends;

Though Laura sometimes put him in a rag
I've heard the Count and he were alwa
friends.

My pen is at the bottom of a page,
Which being finish'd here the story end
"Tis to be wish'd it had been sooner done
But stories somehow lengthen when begu

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Prince Ferdinand, Granby, Burgoyne, Keppel, Howe,

And fill'd their sign-posts then, like W lesley now; Each in their turn like Banquo's monar Followers of fame, "nine farrow" of th stalk,

SOW:

Recorded in the Moniteur and Courier.
France, too, had Buonaparté and Dumoari

Barnave, Brissot, Condorcet, Mirabeau,
Petion, Clootz, Danton, Marat, La Fayet
Were French, and famous people.as we kno
And there were others, scarce forgotten y
Joubert, Hoche, Marceau, Lannes, Dessa
Moreau.

With many of the military set,
Exceedingly remarkable at times,

Evil and good, have had their tithe of talk, | But not at all adapted to my rhymes

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ast epic poets plunge in “medias res,” Her favourite science was the mathematical, Horace makes this the heroic turnpike-Her noblest vittue was her magnanimity,

road), And then your hero tells, whene'er you please,

That went before-by way of episode,
While seated after dinner at his ease,
Bride his mistress in some soft abode,
Palace, or garden, paradise, or cavern,
Which serves the happy couple for a tavern.

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Her wit (she sometimes tried at wit) was Attic all.

Her serious sayings darken'd to sublimity; In short, in all things she was fairly what I call

A prodigy-her morning-dress was dimity, Her evening silk, or, in the summer, muslin, And other stuffs, with which I won't stay puzzling.

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In short she was a walking calculation, Miss Edgeworth's novels stepping from their

covers,

Or Mrs. Trimmer's books on education,
Or "Coelebs' Wife" set out in quest of
lovers,

Morality's prim personification,
In which not Envy's self a flaw discovers;
To others' share let "female crrors fall,"
For she had not even one-the worst of all.

Oh! she was perfect past all parallel –
Of any modern female saint's comparison;
So far above the cunning powers of hell,
Her guardian angel had given up his gar-
rison;

Even her minutest motions went as well
As those of the best time-piece made by
Harrison:

In virtues nothing earthly could surpass her, Save thine "incomparable oil," Macassar!

Perfect she was, but as perfection is Insipid in this naughty world of ours, Where our first parents never learn'd to kiss Till they were exiled from their earlier bowers,

Where all was peace, and innocence, and bliss,

(I wonder how they got through the twelve

hours)

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And so I interfered, and with the best Intentions, but their treatment was n kind;

I think the foolish people were possess'd

Don Jóse like a lineal son of Eve,
Went plucking various fruit without her For neither of them could I ever find,

leave.

He was a mortal of the careless kind, With no great love for learning, or the learn'd,

Who chose to go where'er he had a mind, And never dream'd his lady was concern'd: The world, as usual, wickedly inclined To see a kingdom or a house o'erturn'd, Whisper'd he had a mistress, some said two, But for domestic quarrels one will do.

Now Donna Inez had with all her merit,
A great opinion of her own good qualities;
Neglect, indeed, requires a saint to bear it,
And such, indeed, she was in her moralities;
But then she had a devil of a spirit,
And sometimes mix'd up fancies with re-
alities,

And let few opportunities escape
Of getting her liege lord into a scrape.

This was an easy matter with a man
Oft in the wrong, and never on his guard;
And even the wisest, do the best they can,
Have moments, hours, and days, so unpre-
pared,

Although their porter afterwards confess'd But that's no matter, and the worst behin For little Juan o'er me threw, down stair A pail of housemaid's water unawares.

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All which might, if occasion served, be To public feeling, which on this occasion Was manifested in a great sensation.

quoted;

And then she had all Seville for abettors, Besides her good old grandmother (who doted);

The bearers of her case became repeaters, Then advocates, inquisitors, and judges, Se for amusement, others for old grudges.

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Sagest of women, even of widows, she

So much indeed as to be downright rud Resolved that Juan should be quite a And then what proper person can be parti To all those nauseous epigrams of Martia

paragon,

And worthy of the noblest pedigree (His sire was of Castile, his dam from Arragon):

Then for accomplishments of chivalry, In case our lord the king should go to war again,

He learned the arts of riding, fencing gunnery,

And how to scale a fortress—or a nunnery.

But that which Donna Inez most desired, And saw into herself each day before all The learned tutors whom for him she hired,

Was that his breeding should be strictly moral;

Much into all his studies she inquired, And so they were submitted first to her, all, Arts, sciences, no branch was made a mystery To Juan's eyes, excepting natural history.

The languages, especially the dead,
The scientes, and most of all the abstruse,
The arts, at least all such as could be said
To be the most remote from common use,
In all these he was much and deeply read;
But not a page of any thing that's loose,
Or hints continuation of the species,
Was ever suffer'd, lest he should grow
vicious.

His classic studies made a little puzzle, Because of filthy loves of gods and goddesses, Who in the earlier ages raised a bustle, But never put on pantaloons or bodices; His reverend tutors had at times a tussle, And for their Aeneids, Iliads and Odysseys, Were forced to make an odd sort of apology, For Donna Inez dreaded the mythology.

Ovid's a rake, as half his verses show him :
Anacreon's morals are a still worse sample;
Catullus scarcely has a decent poem;
I don't think Sappho's Ode a good example,
Although Longinus tells us there is no hymn
Where the sublime soars forth on wings
more ample;

But Virgil's songs are pure, except that horrid one

Beginning with "Formosum Pastor Corydon."

Lucretius' irreligion is too strong
For early stomachs, to prove wholesome
food;
I can't help thinking Juvenal was wrong,
Although no doubt his real intent was good.
For speaking out so plainly in his song,

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