Sweet is old wine in bottles, ale in barrels ;
Dear is the helpless creature we defend
Against the world; and dear the schoolboy spot
We ne'er forget, though there we are forgot.
CXXVII.

But sweeter still than this, than these, than all,
Is first and passionate love-it stands alone
Like Adam's recollection of his fall;

The tree of knowledge has been pluck'd-all's knownAnd life yields nothing further to recall

Worthy of this ambrosial sin, so shown,

No doubt in fable, as the unforgiven

Fire which Prometheus filch'd for us from heaven.

CXXVIII.

Man's a strange animal, and makes strange use

Of his own nature, and the various arts,

And likes particularly to produce

Some now experiment to show his parts;

This is the age of oddities let loose,

Where different talents find their different marts; You'd best begin with truth, and when you've lost your Labour, there's a sure market for imposture.

CXXIX.

What opposite discoveries we have seen!

(Signs of true genius, and of empty pockets.)

One makes new noses, one a guillotine,

One breaks your bones, one sets them in their sockets;

But vaccination certainly has been

A kind antithesis to Congreve's rockets,

*

CXXX.

Bread has been made (indifferent) from potatoes;
And galvanism has set some corpses grinning,
But has not answer'd like the apparatus
Of the Humane Society's beginning,

By which men are unsuffocated gratis :
What wondrous new machines have late been spinning

CXXXI.

*

CXXXII.

This is the patent age of new inventions
For killing bodies, and for saving souls,
All propagated with the best intentions;
Sir Humphrey Davy's lantern, by which coals
Are safely mined for in the mode he mentions,
Tombuctoo travels, voyages to the Poles,
Are ways to benefit mankind, as true,
Perhaps, as shooting them at Waterloo.

CXXXIII.

Man's a phenomenon, one knows not what, And wonderful beyond all wondrous measure; 'Tis pity though, in this sublime world, that

Pleasure's a sin, and sometimes sin's a pleasure; Few mortals know what end they would be at,

But whether glory, power, or love, or treasure, The path is through perplexing ways, and when The goal is gain'd, we die, you know-and then

CXXXIV.

What then?—I do not know, no more do

you

And so good night.-Return we to our story: 'Twas in November, when fine days are few,

And the far mountains wax a little hoary,

And clap a white cape on their mantles blue ;
And the sea dashes round the promontory,
And the loud breaker boils against the jock,
And sober suns must set at five o'clock.

CXXXV.

'Twas, as the watchmen say, a cloudy night;
No moon, no stars, the wind was low or loud
By gusts, and many a parkling hearth was bright
With the piled wood, round which the family crowd;
There's something cheerful in that sort of light,

Even as a summer sky's without a cloud:
I'm foud of fire, and crickets, and all that,
A lobster salad, and champagne, aud chat.
CXXXVI.

'Twas midnight-Donna Julia was in bed,
Sleeping, most probably,-when at her door
Arose a clatter might awake the dead,
If they had never been awoke before,
And that they have been so we all have read,
And are to be so, at the least, once more—
The door was fasten'd, but with voice and fist
First knocks were heard, then « Madam-Madam-hist!
CXXXVII.

For God's sake, Madam-Madam-here's

my master, « With more than half the city at his back"Was ever heard of such a curst disaster!

'Tis not my fault-I kept good watch-Alack!

Do, pray undo the bolt a little faster-
They're on the stair just now, and in a crack

« Will all be here; perhaps he yet may fly

་

Surely the window's not so very high!

CXXXVIII.

By this time Don Alfonso was arrived,

With torches, friends, and servants in great number; The major part of them had long been wived,

Of

And therefore paused not to disturb the slumber any wicked woman, who contrived

By stealth her husband's temples to encumber: Examples of this kind are so contagious,

Were one not punish'd, all would be outrageous.

CXXXIX.

I can't tell how, or why, or what suspicion
Could enter into Don Alfonso's head;
But for a cavalier of his condition

It surely was exceedingly ill-bred,
Without a word of previous admonition,
To hold a levee round his lady's bed,
And summon lackeys, arm'd with fire and sword,
To prove himself the thing he most abhorr'd.

CXL.

Poor Donna Julia! starting as from sleep,
(Mind-that I do not say-she had not slept)
Began at once to scream, and yawn, and weep;
Her maid Antonia, who was an adept,
Contrived to fling the bed-clothes in a heap,

As if she had just now from out them crept :
I can't tell why she should take all this trouble
To prove her mistress had been sleeping double.

CXLI.

But Julia mistress, and Antonia maid,
Appear'd like two poor harmless women, who
Of goblins, but still more of men afraid,

Had thought one man might be deterr'd by two,
And therefore side by side were gently laid,
Until the hours of absence should run through,
And truant husband should return, and say,

My dear, I was the first who came away. »
CXLII.

Now Julia found at length a voice, and cried,

In heaven's name, Don Alfonso, what d'ye mean? «Has madness seized you ? would that I had died «Ere such a monster's victim I had been! <<What may this midnight violence betide, « A sudden fit of drunkenness or spleen? Dare you suspect me, whom the thought would kill? Search, then, the room! » — Alfonso said, « I will.

CXLIII.

He search'd, they search'd, and rummaged every where,
Closet and clothes-press, chest and window-scat,
And found much linen, lace, and several pair

Of stockings, slippers, brushes, combs, complete,
With other articles of ladies fair,

To keep them beautiful, or leave them neat: Arras they prick'd and curtains with their swords, And wounded several shutters, and some boards.

CXLIV.

Under the bed they search'd, and there they found-
No matter what-it was not that they sought ;'
They open'd windows, gazing if the ground
Had signs or footmarks, but the earth said nought;