In the great world-which, being interpreted,
Meaneth the west or worst end of a city,
And about twice two thousand people, bred
By no means to be very wise or witty,
But to sit up while others lie in bed,

And look down on the universe with pity-
Juan, as an inveterate patrician,

Was well received by persons of condition.

XLVI.

He was a bachelor, which is a matter
Of import both to virgin and to bride,
The former's hymeneal hopes to flatter;
And (should she not hold fast by love or pride)

"Tis also of some moment to the latter :

A rib's a thorn in a wed gallant's side, Requires decorum, and is apt to double

XLVIII.

Fair virgins blush'd upon him; wedded dames
Bloom'd also in less transitory hues;
For both commodities dwell by the Thames,
The painting and the painted: youth, ceruse,
Against his heart preferr'd their usual claims,
Such as no gentleman can quite refuse:
Daughters admired his dress, and pious mothers
Inquired his income, and if he had brothers.

XLIX.

The milliners who furnish 'drapery misses,'*
Throughout the season, upon speculation
Of payment ere the honeymoon's last kisses
Have waned into a crescent's coruscation,
Though such an opportunity as this is,

Of a rich foreigner's initiation,
Not to be overlook'd-and gave such credit,
That future bridegrooms swore, and sigh'd, and
paid it.

L.

The Blues, that tender tribe, who sigh o'er son-
And with the pages of the last Review [nets,
Line the interior of their heads or bonnets,

Advanced in all their azure's highest hue;
They talk'd bad French or Spanish, and upon is
Late authors ask'd him for a hint or two;
And which was softest, Russian or Castilian;
And whether in his travels he saw Ilion?

LI.

Juan, who was a little superficial,

And not in literature a great Drawcansir,
Examined by this learned and especial
Jury of matrons, scarce knew what to answer,
His duties, warlike, loving, or official,

His steady application as a dancer,
Had kept him from the brink of Hippocrene.
Which now he found was blue instead of green.
LII.

However, he replied at hazard, with

A modest confidence and calm assurance, Which lent his learned lucubrations pith, And pass'd for arguments of good endurance

The horrid sin-and, what's still worse, the That prodigy, Miss Araminta Smith

trouble.

XLVII.

But Juan was a bachelor-of arts,

And parts, and hearts: he danced and sung.
An air as sentimental as Mozart's [and had

Softest of melodies, and could be sad
Or cheerful, without any 'flaws or starts,'
Just at the proper time; and though a lad,
Had seen the world-which is a curious sight,
And very much unlike what people write.

(Who at sixteen translated Hercules Furens Into as furious English), with her best look, Set down his sayings in her commonplace book.

• Drapery Misses. This term is probably anything but a mystery. It was, however, almost so to me, when t returned from the East in 1811-1812 It means a pre). A high-born, a fashionable young female, well instructed by be friends, and furnished by her milliner with a wandrebe sp credit, to be repaid, when married, by her hushed. The riddle was first read to me by a young and pretty heres, my praising the drapery' of the untochered but pretty ginities (like Mrs Ann Page) of the then day, which has been some years yesterday. She assured me that the de was common in London; and as her own thousands, blooming looks, and rich simplicity of array, pet any s Anent' was a Scotch phrase, meaning concerning-in her own case out of the question, I confess I gave with regard to. It has been made English by the Scotch credit to the allegation. If necessary, authorities might be novels; and, as the Frenchman said, if it be not, ought to be, cited, in which case I could quote both drapery and f English.' wearers. Let us hope, however, that it is now obsolete.

Still he excels that artificial hard

Labourer in the same vineyard, though the vine Yields him but vinegar for his reward

That neutralized dull Dorus of the Nine; That swarthy Sporus, neither man nor bard; That ox of verse, who ploughs for every line :Cambyses' roaring Romans beat at least The howling Hebrews of Cybele's priest.

'Where is the world?' cries Young, at eighty. Some, who once set their caps at cautious dukes,

'Where

The world in which a man was born?' Alas, Where is the world of eight years past? 'Twas there

I look for it-'tis gone, a globe of glass! Crack'd, shiver'd, vanish'd, scarcely gazed on,

ere

A silent change dissolves the glittering mass. Statesmen, chiefs, orators, queens, patriots,

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

LXXVII.

Where is Napoleon the Grand? God knows:
Where little Castlereagh? The devil can tell :
Where Grattan, Curran, Sheridan, all those
Who bound the bar or senate in their spell?
Where is the unhappy Queen, with all her woes?
And where the Daughter, whom the Isles loved
well?

Have taken up at length with younger

brothers:

Some heiresses have bit at sharpers' hooks:
Some maids have been made wives, some
merely mothers,

Others have lost their fresh and fairy looks:
In short, the list of alterations bothers.
There's little strange in this, but something
strange is

The unusual quickness of these common changes.

LXXXII.

Talk not of seventy years as age: in seven
I have seen more changes, down from mon-
archs to

The humblest individual under heaven,

knew that nought was lasting, but now even Than might suffice a modern century through. Change grows too changeable, without being

I
[Cents? new:

Where are those martyr'd saints, the Five per Nought's permanent among the human race, And where-oh, where the devil are the Rents? Except the Whigs not getting into place.