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Is call'd on to support his claim, or show it,

Their chances: they are too numerous, like the Although 'tis an imaginary thing.

thirty Even I--albeit I'm sure I did not know it,

Mock tyrants, when Rome's annals wax'd but dirty. Nor sought of foolscap subjects to be king

LXII. Was reckond a considerable time,

This is the literary lower empire, The grand Napoleon of the realms of rhyme.

Where the prætorian bands take up the matter : LVI.

A 'dreadful trade,ʻlike his who'gathers samphire,' But Juan was my Moscow, and Faliero

The insolent soldiery to soothe and flatter, My Leipsic, and my Mount Saint Jean seems

With the same feelings as you'd coax a vampire. Cain :

Now, were I once at home, and in good satire, La Belle Alliance of dunces down at zero,

I'd try conclusions with those Janizaries, Now that the lion's fall'n, may rise again;

And show them what an intellectual way is. But I will fall at least as fell my hero;

LXIII. Nor reign at all, or as a monarch reign ;

I think I know a trick or two vould turn Or to some lonely isle of jailors go,

Thieir flanks; but it is hardly worth my while, With turncoat Southey for my turnkey Lowe. With such small gear to give myself concern: LVII.

Indeed, I've not the necessary bile, Sir Walter reign d before me; Moore and Campbell

My natural temper's really aught but stern. Before and after : but now grown inore holy,

And even my Muse's worst reproof's a smile :

And then she drops a brief and modern curtsey. The muses upon Sion's hill must ramble With poets almost clergymen, or wholly ;

And glides away, assured she never hurts ye.
And Pegasus has a psalmodic amble

Beneath the very Reverend Rowley Powley, My Juan, whom I left in deadly peril
Who shoes the glorious animal with stilts,

Amongst live poets and blue ladies, past
A modern Ancient Pistol-by the hilts!

With some small profilt through that field so sterile,

Being tired in time, and neither least nor last, LVII. Still he excels that artificial hard

Lest it before he had been treated very ill; Labourer in the same vineyarı, though the vine

And henceforth found himself more gaily class'd Yields him but vinegar for his reward

Amongst the higher spirits of the day,

The sun's true son, no yapour, but a ray.
That neutralized dull Dorus of the Nine;

That swarthy Sporus, neither man nor bard;
That ox of verse, who ploughs for every line:

His morns he pass'd in business which dissected, Cambyses' roaring Romans beat at least

Was like all business-a laborious nothing, The howling Hebrews of Cybele's priest.

That leads to lassitude, the most infected

And Centaur Nessus garb of mortal clothing, LIX.

And on our sofas makes us lie dejected, Then there's my gentle Euphues, who, they say,

And talk in tender horrors of our loathing Sets up for being a sort of moral nie:*

All kinds of toil, save for our country's goodHe'll find it rather difficult some day

Which grows no better, though 'tis time it should. To turn out both, or either, it may be.

Some persons think that Coleridge hath the sway,
And Wordsworth hath supporters two or three;

His afternoons he pass'd in visits, luncheons,
And that deep-mouth'd Buotian, 'Savage Landor,'

Lounging, and boxing; and the twilight hour Has taken for a swan rogue Southey's gander.

In riding round those vegetable puncheons

Callid •Parks,' where there is neither fruit nor L.X.

flower, John Keats—who was kill'd off hy one critique,

Enough to gra'ify a bec's slight munchings: Just as he really promised something great,

But, after all, it is the only 'bower' If not intelligible-without Greek,

(In Moore's phrase) where the fashionable fair Contrived to talk about the gods of late,

Can form a slight acquaintance with fresh air Much as they might have been supposed to speak.+

LXVII. Poor fellow his was ar 'intoward fate!

Then dress, then dinner, then awakes the world; 'Tis strange the mind, that fiery particle, Should let itself be snufi'd out by an article.

Then glare the lamps, then whirl the wheels, then roar

[huri'd LXI.

Through street and square fast flashing chariots The list grows long of live and dead pretenders

Like harness'd meteors; then along the floor To that which none will gain-or none will know

Chalk mimics painting; then festoons are twirl'd; The conqueror at least; who, cre Time renders

Then roll the brazen thunders of the door,
His last award, will have the long grass grow Which opens to the thousand happy few,
Above his burnt-out brain, and sapless cinders.
If I might augur, I should rate but low

An earthly paradise of 'Or Molu.

LXVIII. • Barry Cornwall (Procter) liad been so called by

There stands the noble hostess, nor shall sink A reviewer,

With the three thousandth curtsey; thers the Divina particulam alir


The only dance which teaches girls to think, And ugliness, disease, as toil and trouble ;-
Makes one in love even with its very faults.

I wish they knew the life of a young noble.
Saloon, room, hall, o'erfiow beyond their brink,

LXXV. And long the latest of arrivals halts,

They are young, but know not youth -- it is 'Midst royal dukes, and dames condemn'd to climb,

anticipated; And gain an inch of staircase at a time.

Handsome but wasted, rich without a sou;

Their vigour in a thousand arms is dissipated ; Thrice happy he who, after a survey

Their cash comes from, their wealth goes to, a Of the good company, can win a corner,

Jew: A door that's in, or boudoir out, of the way,

Both senates see their nightly votes participated Where he may fix himself like smail ‘Jack Between the tyrant's and the tribuncs' crew; Horner,'

And having voted, dined, drunk, gamed, and And let the Babel round run as it may,

whored, And look on as a mourner, or a scorner,

The family vault receives another lord.
Or an approver, or a incre spectator,
Yawning a little as the night grows later.


• Where is the world ? cries Youiig, at eighty. But this won't do, save by and by; and he

Where Who, like Don Juan, takes an active share,

The world in which a man was born?' Alas, Must steer with care through all that glittering sea

Where is the world of eight years past ? 'Twas of gems, and plumes, and pearls, and silks, to

there where

I look for it-'tis gone, a globe of glass He deems it is his proper place to be ;

Crack'd, shiver’d, vantslid, scarcely gazed on, ere Dissolving in the waltz, to some soft air,

A silent change dissolves the glittering inass. Or proudlier prancing, with mercurial skill,

Statesmen, chiefs, orators, queens, patriots, kings, Where Science marshals forth her own quadrille.

And dandies, all are gone on the wind's wings. LXXI.

LXXVII. Or, if he dance not, but hath higher views

Where is Napoleon the Grand ? God knows : Upon an heiress or his neighbour's bride,

Where little Castlereagh? The devil can tell : Let him take care that that which he pursues Where Grattan, Curran, Sheridan, all those Is not at once too palpably descried.

Who bound the bar or senate in their spell ? Full many an eager gentleman oft rues

Where is the unhappy Queen, with all her woes ? His haste: impatience is a blundering guide, And where the Daughter, whom the Isles loved Amongst a people famous for reflection,


(Cents : Who like to play the fool with circumspection. Where are those martýrid saints, the Five per LXXII.

And where-oh, where the devil ate the Rents ? But if you can contrive, get next at supper ;

I.XXVIII. Or, if forestall’d, get opposite and ogle:

Where's Brummel Dish'd. Where's Long Pole Oh, ye ambrosial moinents I always upper

Wellesley? Diddled. In mind, a sort of sentimental bogle, *

Where's Whitbread? Romilly? Where's George Which sits for ever upon memory's crupper,

the Third ? The ghost of vanish'd pleasures once in vogue ! Where is his will? (That's not so soon unriddledi.) Can tender souls relate the rise and fall

And where is l'um' the Fourth, our 'royal Of hopes and fears which shake a single ball.

bird? LXXIII.

Gone down, it seems, to Scotland, to be fiddled But these precautionary hints can touch

Unto by Sawney's violin, we have heard : (ing Only the common run, who must pursue,

Caw me, caw thee for six months had been hatchAnd watch and ward; whose plans a word too This scene of royal itch and loyal scratching. much

LXXIX. Or little overturns; and not the few

Where is Lord This, and where my Lady That ? Or many (for the number's sometimes such)

The Honourable Mistresses and Misses?
Whom a good mien, especially if new,
Or fame, or name, for wit, war, sense, or nonsense,

Some laid aside, like an old opera hat,
Permits whate'er they please, or did not long since.

Married, unmarried, and remarried (this is

An evolution oft performed of late):

Where are the Dublin shouts--and London hisses? Our hero, as a hero, young and handsome,

Where are the Grenvilles? Turn'd, as usual. Where Noble, rich, celebrated, and a stranger,

My friends the Wlligo? Exactly where they were. Like other slaves, of course must pay his ransom, Before he can escape from so much danger

LXXX. As will environ a conspicuous man. Some

Where are the Lady Carolines and Franceses ? Talk about poetry, and 'rack and manger.'

Divorced, or doing thereanent. Ye annals

So brilliant, where the list of routs and dances is-* Scotch for goblin.

Thou Morning Post, sole record of the panels

Broken in carriages, and all the phantasies (nels? Exchanged for 'thin potations' by John Bull;

Of fashion--say what streams now fill those chan- I have seen John half detect himself a fool. Some die, some fly, some languish on the Continent,

Because the times have hardly left them one tenant.

But carpe diem, Juan, carpe, carte!

To-morrow sees another race as gay
Some, who once set their caps at cautious dukes, And transient, and devoured by the same harpy.

Have taken up at length with younger brothers: Life's a poor player'-then 'play out the play, Some heiresses have bit at sharpers' hooks:

Ye villains !' and, above all, keep a sharp eye Some maids have been made wives, some merely Much less on what you do than what you say; mothers,

Be hypocritical, be cautious, be Others have lost their fresh and fairy looks:

Not what you seem, but always what you see. In short, the list of alterations bothers.

LXXXVII. There's little strange in this, but something strange is

But how shall I relate, in other cantos, The unusual quickness of these common changes.

of what befel our hero, in the land LXXXII.

Which 'tis the cominon cry and lie to vaunt Talk not of seventy years as age: in seven

A moral country? But I hold my handI have seen more changes, down from monarchs to

For I disdain to write an Atalantis; The humblest individual under heaven,

But 'tis as well at once to understand
Than inight suffice a modern century through. You are not a moral people, and you know it,
I knew that nought was lasting, but now even Without the aid of too sincere a poet.
Change grows too changeable, without being new:

Naught's permanent among the human race,
Except the Whigs not getting into place.

What Juan saw and underwent shall be

My topic, with of course the due restriction LXXXIII.

Which is required by proper courtesy : I have seen Napoleon, who seem'd quite a Jupiter,

And recollect the work is only fiction, Shrink to a Saturn. I have seen a Duke

And that I sing of neither mine nor me, (No matter which) turn politician stupider, If that can well be, than his wooden look.

Though every scribe, in some slight turn of diction,

Will hint allusions never meant. Ne'er doubt But it is time that I should hoist my 'Blue Peter,' And sail for a new theme :--I have seen, and shook

This-when I speak, I don't hint, but speak out. To see it-the king hiss'd, and then caress'd,

But don't pretend to settle which was best.

Whether he married with the third or fourth

Offspring of some sage husband-hunting courtess; I have seen the Landholders without a rap;

Or whether with some virgin of more worth I have seen Joanna Southcote ; I have seen

(I mean in Fortune's matrimonial bounties) The House of Commons turn'd to a tax-trap;

He took to regularly peopling earth, I have seen that sad affair of the late Queen;

Of which your lawful awful wedlock fount is; I have seen crowns worn instead of a fool's cap;

Or whether he was taken in for damages, I have seen a Congress doing all that's mean;

For being too excursive in his homages, I have seen some nations, like o'erloaded asses,

Kick off their burthens-meaning the high classes:

Is yet within the unread events of tine.

Thus far, go forth, thou lay, which I will back I have seen sinall poets, and great prosers, and Against the same given quantity of rhyme, Interminable-not eternal-speakers;

For being as inuch the subject of attack I have seen the funds at war with house and land;

As ever yet was any work sublime, I have seen the country gentlemen turn squeakers; By those who love to say that white is black. I have seen tlie people ridden o'er, like sand,

So much the better; I may stand alone, By slaves on horseback; I have seen malt liquors But would not change my free thoughts for a throne



OF all the barbarous middle ages, that

Which is most barbarous is the middle age
Of man: it is-I really scarce know what;

But when we hover between fool and sage,
And don't know justly what we would be at-

A period something like a printed page,
Black letter upon foolscap, while our hair
Grows grizzled, and we are not what we were ;-

Too old for youth-too young, at thirty-five,

To herd with boys, or hoard with good three
I wonder people should be left alive : (scorc--

But, since they are, that epoch is a bore:
Love lingers still, although 'twere late to wive:

And as for other love, the illusion's o'er;
And money, that most pure imagination,
Gleams only through the dawn of its creation.


While he, despising every sensual call, Oh Gold! Why call we misers miserable ?

Commands--the intellectual lord of all.
Theirs is the pleasure that can never pall;

Theirs is the best bower-anchor, the chain-cable
Which holds fast other pleasures great and small.

Perhaps he hath great projects in his mind

To build a college, or to found a race, Ye who but see the saving man at table

An hospital, a church-and leave behind And scorn his temperate board, as none at all,

Some dome surnounted by his meagre face. And wonder how the wealthy can be sparing,

Perhaps he fain would liberate mankind, Know not what visions spring from each cheese

Even with the very ore that makes them base ; paring. IV.

Perhaps he would be wealthiest of his nation, Love or lust makes man sick, and wine much sicker;

Or revel in the joys of calculation.
Ambition rends, and gaming gains a loss;

But making money, slowly first, then quicker, But whether all, or each, or none of these
And adding still a little through each cross

May be the hoarder's principle of action, (Which will come over things), beats love or liquor, The fool will call such mania a disease : The gamester's counter, or the statesman's dross.

What is his own? Go-look at each transaction, Oh Gold! I still prefer thee unto paper,

Wars, revels, loves : do these bring men more ease Which makes bank credit like a bark of vapour

Than the mere plodding through each 'vulgar V.

fraction ? Who hold the balance of the world? Who reign

Or do they benefit mankind ? Lean miser! O'er congress, whether royalist or liberal?

Let spendthrifts' heirs inquire of yours—who's wiser ? Who rouse the shirtless patriots of Spain ?

XII. (That make old Europe's journals squeak and

How beauteous are rouleaus ! how charming chests gibber all.)

Containing ingots, bags of dollars, coins Who keep the world, both Old and New, in pain

(Not of old victors, all whose heads and crests Or pleasure? Who make politics run glibber all ? Weigh not the thin ore where their visage shines, The shade of Buonaparte's noble daring ?

But) of fine unclipt gold, where duly rests Jew Rothschild, and his fellow-Christian Baring. Some likeness, which the glittering cirque confines, VI.

Of modern, reigning, sterling, stupid stamp : Those, and the truly liberal Lafitte,

Yes I ready money is Aladdin's lamp. Are the true lords of Europe. Every loan

XIII. Is not a merely speculative hit,

*Love rules the camp, the court, the grove ; for love But seats a nation or upsets a throne.

Is heaven, and heaven is love:' so sings the bard. Republics also get involved a bit

Which it were rather difficult to prove Columbia's stock hath holders not unknown

(A thing with poetry in general hard). On 'Change; and even thy silver soil, Peru,

Perhaps there may be something in the grove,' Must get itself discounted by a Jew.

At least it rhymes to 'love;' but I'm prepared VII.

To doubt (no less than landlords of their rental) Why call the miser miserable ? as

If courts' and 'camps' be quite so sentimental. I said before: the frugal life is his Which in a saint or cynic ever was

XIV. The theme of praise: a hermit would not miss

But if Love don't, Cash does, and Cash alone: Canonization for the self-same cause;

Cash rules the grove, and fells it too besides; And wherefore blame gaunt wealth's austerities?

Without cash, camps were thin, and courts were

none; Because, you'll say, nought calls for such a trial ; Then there's more inerit in his self-denial.

Without cash, Malthus tells you, 'take no brides.'

So Cash rules Love the ruler, on his own

High ground, as Virgin Cynthia sways the tides: He is your only poet ; passion, pure,

And as for 'Heaven being Love,' why not say honey And sparkling on from heap to heap displays Is wax? Heaven is not Love; 'tis Matrimony. Possessed, the ore, of which mere hopes allure Nations athwart the deep : the golden rays

XV. Flash up in ingots from the mine obscure;

Is not all love prohibited whatever, On him the diamond pours its brilliant blaze ;

Excepting marriage which is love, no doubt, While the mild emerald's beam shades down the dyes

After a sort; but somehow people never of other stones, to soothe the miser's eyes.

With the same thought the two words have help'd

Love may exist with marriage, and should ever; IX. The lands on either side are his: the ship

And marriage also may exist without:

But love sans banns is both a sin and shame,
From Ceylon, Inde, or fair Cathay, unloads

And ought to go by quite another nanie.
For him the fragrant produce of each trip;
Beneath his cars of Ceres groan the roads,

And the vine blushes like Aurora's lip:

Now if the 'court,' and 'camp,' and 'grove' be not His very cellars might be kings'abodes;

Recruited all with constant married men,


Who never coveted their neighbour's lot,

XXII. I say that line's a lapsus of the pen ;

That's noble! That's romantic! For my part, Strange too in my buon camerado Scott,

I think that 'philogenitiveness is So celebrated for his morals, when

(Now here's a word quite after my own heart, My Jeffrey held him up as an example

Though tliere's a shorter a good deal than this, To me-of which these morals are a sample. If that politeness set it not apart;

But I'ın resolved to say nought that's amiss) XVII.

I say, methinks that philogenitiveness' Well, if I don't succeed, I have succeeded,

Miglit meet from mien a little more forgiveness. And that's enough; succeeded in my youth;

The only time when nuch success is needed.
And my success produced wliat I, in sooth,

And now to business. Oh my gentle Juan !
Cared most about; it need not now be pleaded-

Thou art in London—in that pleasant place, Whate'er it was, 'twas ntine: I've paid, in truth,

Where every kind of mischief's daily brewing. Of late the penalty of such success,

Which can await warm youth in its wild race. But have not learn'd to wish it any less.

Tis true that thy career is not a new one:

Thou art no novice in the headlong chase

Of early life; but this is a new land,
That suit in Chancery--which some persons plead Which foreigners can never understand.
In an appeal to the unborn, whom they,

XXIV, In the faith of their procreative creed,

What with a small diversity of climate, Baptize posterity, or future clay

Of hot or cold, mercurial or sedate, To me seems but a dubious kind of reed

I could send forth my mandate, like a primate, To lean on for support in any way;

Upon the rest of Europe's social state; Since odds are that posterity will know

But thou art the niost difficult to rhyme at, No more of them, than they of her, I trow.

Great Britain, which the muse miay penetrate. XIX.

All countries have their 'lions,' but in thee Why, I'm posterity-and so are you:

There is but one superb inenagerie. And whom do we remember? Not a hundred.

XXV. Were cvery inemory written down all true,

But I am sick of politics. Begin, The tenth or twentieth name would be but

Paulo majora.' Juan, undecided blunder'd;

Amongst the paths of being taken in,' Even Plutarch's Lives have but pick'd out a few, Above the ice had like a skater glided : And 'gainst those few your annalists have

When tired of play, he Airted without sin thunder'd.

With some of those fair creatures wto have And Mitford, in the nineteenth century,

prided Gives, with Greek truth, the good old Greek the lie.*

Themselves on innocent tantalization,

And hate all vice except its reputation.
Good people all, of every degree,

XXVI. Ye gentle readers and ungentle writers,

But these are few, and in the end they make In this twelfth canto 'tis my wish to be

Some devilish escapade or stir, which shows As serious as if I had for inditers

That even the purest people may mistake Malthus and Wilberforce: the last set free

Their way through virtue's primrose paths of The negroes, and is worth a million fighters;

snows; While Wellington has but enslaved the whites, And then men stare, as if a new ass spake And Malthus does the thing 'gainst which he writes. To Balaam, and from tongue to ear o'crflows

Quicksilver small talk, ending (if you note it)

With the kind world's amen-'Who would have I'in serious-50 are all men upon paper :

thought it?' And why should I not form my speculation,

And hold up to the sun my little taper ?

The little Leila, with her orient eyes,
Mankind just now seem wrapt in meditation, And taciturn Asiatic disposition
On constitutions and steamboats of vapour;

(Which saw all western things with small surprise, While sages write against all procreation,

To the surprise of people of condition, Unless a man can calculate his means

Who think that novelties are butterflies, Of feeding brats the inoment his wife weans.

To be pursued as food for inanition),

Her charming figure and romantic history, See Mitford's Greece. Grecia Verax. His great

Became a kind of fashionable mystery. pleasure consists in praising tyrants, abusing Plutarch,

XXVIII. spelling oddly, and writing quaintly; and what is strange, after all, his is the best modern history of

The women much divided as is usual Greece in any language, and he is perhaps the best of Amongst the sex, in little things or great. all modern historians whatsoever. Having named his Think not, fait creatures, that I mean to abuse you sins, it is but fair to state his virtues-learning, labour, research, wrath, and partiality. I call the latter virtues

allin a writer, because they make him write in earnest. I have always liked you better than I state :

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