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XL, Besides the ministers and underlings,

Who must be courteous to the accredited
Diplomatists of rather wavering kings,

Until their royal riddle 's fully read,
The very clerks—those somewhat dirty springs

Of office, or the house of office,
By foul corruption into streams—even they
Were hardly rude enough to earn their pay :

And insolence no doubt is what they are

Employ'd for, since it is their daily labour,
In the dear offices of peace or war ;
And should

ask of

your next neighbour, When for a passport, or some other bar

To freedom, he applied (a grief and a bore) If he found not this spawn of tax-born riches, Like lap-dogs, the least civil sons of bs.

XLII. But Juan was received with much 66

empressement : These phrases of refinement I must borrow *From our next neighbours' land, where, like a chessman,

There is a move set down for joy or sorrow, Not only in mere talking, but the press.

In islands is, it seems, downright and thorough, More than on continents-as if the sea (See Billingsgate) made even the tongue more free.

doubt, pray



And yet the British “ dam’me" 's rather Attic :

Your continental oaths are but incontinent,
And turn on things which no aristocratic

Spirit would name, and therefore even I won't anent : This subject quote, as it would be schismatic

In politesse, and have a sound affronting in 't :But «dam’me” 's quite ethereal, though too daringPlatonic blasphemy, the soul of swearing.

For downright rudeness ye may stay at home;

For true or false politeness and scarce that
Non) you may cross the blue deep and white foam-

The frst the emblem (rarely though) of what
You leave behind, the next of much you come

To meet. However, 't is no time to chat On general topics : poems must confine Themselves to unity, like this of mine.

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) 'T is also of some moment to the latter :

a th in a wed gallant's side, Requires decorum, and is apt to double The horrid sin—and, what 's still worse, the trouble.

XLVII. But Juan was a bachelor-of arts,

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

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.

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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.

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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, Thought 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 sonnets,

And with the pages of the last review 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 its

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 bim 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. That prodigy, Miss Araminta Smith

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

LIII. Juan knew several languages—as well

He might—and brought them up with skill, in time To save his fame with each accomplish'd belle,

Who still regretted that he did not rhyme ; There wanted but this requisite to swell

His qualities (with them) into sublime : Lady Fitz-Frisky, and Miss Mævia Mannish, Both long'd extremely to be sung in Spanish.

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However, he did pretty well, and was

Admitted as an aspirant to all
The coteries, and, as in Banquo's glass,

At great assemblies or in parties small,
He saw ten thousand living authors pass,

That being about their average numeral ;
Also the eighty “greatest living poets,"
As every paltry magazine can show its.

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In twice five years the “greatest living poet,"

Like to the champion in the fisty ring,
Is callid on to support his claim, or show it,

Although 't is an imaginary thing.
Even I-albeit I'm sure I did not know it,

Nor sought of foolscap subjects to be king,
Was reckon'd, a considerable time,
The grand Napoleon of the realms of rhyme.



But Juan was my Moscow, and Faliero
My Leipsic, and my

Mont-Saint-Jean seems Cain : · La Belle Alliance” of dunces down at zero,

Now that the lion 's fall'n, may rise again : But I will fall at least as fell


Nor reign at all, or as a monarch reign;
Or to some lonely isle of jailors go,
With turncoat Southey for my turnkey Lowe.

LVII. Sir Walter reign'd before me ; Moore and Campbell

Before and after ; but now grown more holy, The Muses upon Sion's hill must ramble

With poets almost clergymen or wholly ;

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Then there 's my gentle Euphues, who, they say,

up for being a sort of moral me; He 'll find it rather difficult some day

To turn out both, or either, it may be.
Some persons think that Coleridge hath the sway;

And Wordsworth has supporters, two or three; And that deep-mouth'd Beotian, “Savage Landor," Has taken for a swan rogue Southey's gander.

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

Just as he really promised something great,
If not intelligible,

-without Greek Contrived to talk about the gods of late, Much as they might have been supposed to speak.

Poor fellow ! his was an untoward fate : 'T is strange the mind, that very fiery particle, Should let itself be snuffod out by an article.

The list grows long of live and dead pretenders

To that which none will gain—or none will know The conqueror at least; who, ere Time renders

His last award, will have the long grass grow Above his burnt-out brain and sapless cinders.

If I might augur, I should rate but low Their chances; they ’re too numerous, like the thirty Mock tyrants, when Rome's annals wax'd but dirty.


LXII. This is the literary lower empire,

Where the Prætorian bands take up the matter ; A “ dreadful trade,” like his who “gathers samphire,”

The insolent soldiery to soothe and flatter,
With the same feelings as you 'd coax a vampire.

Now, were I once at home, and in good satire,
I 'd try conclusions with those janizaries,
And show them what an intellectual war is.

I think I know a trick or two would turn
Their flanks ;—but it is hardly worth my

while With such small gear to give myself concern :

Indeed I've not the necessary bile ;
My natural temper 's really aught but stern,

And even my Muse's worst reproof 's a smile ;
And then she drops a brief and modest curtsey,
And glides away, assured she never hurts ye.

My Juan, whom I left in deadly peril

Amongst live poets and blue ladies, passod
With some small profit through that field so sterile.

Being tired in time, and neither least nor last,
Left it before he had been treated

And henceforth found himself more gaily class'd
Amongst the higher spirits of the day,
The sun's true son-no vapour, but à ray.


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