XVI.

But ere they could perform this pious duty,

The dying man cried, "Hold! I've got my gruel!
Oh! for a glass of max !1 We've miss'd our booty;
Let me die where I am!" And as the fuel
Of life shrunk in his heart, and thick and sooty
The drops fell from his death-wound, and he drew ill
His breath, he from his swelling throat untied
A kerchief, crying, "Give Sal that!"-and died.
XVII.

The cravat stain'd with bloody drops fell down
Before Don Juan's feet: he could not tell
Exactly why it was before him thrown,

Nor what the meaning of the man's farewell.
Poor Tom was once a kiddy 2 upon town,

A thorough varmint, and a real swell, 3 Full flash, all fancy, until fairly diddled, His pockets first and then his body riddled. XVIII.

Don Juan, having done the best he could

In all the circumstances of the case,
As soon as " Crowner's quest" 5 allow'd, pursued
His travels to the capital apace; -
Esteeming it a little hard he should

In twelve hours' time, and very little space,
Have been obliged to slay a freeborn native
In self-defence: this made him meditative.

XIX.

He from the world had cut off a great man,
Who in his time had made heroic bustle.
Who in a row like Tom could lead the van,

Booze in the ken 6, or at the spellken 7 hustle?
Who queer a flat?8 Who (spite of Bow-street's ban)
On the high toby-spice so flash the muzzle ?
Who on a lark 10, with black-eyed Sal (his blowing), 11
So prime, so swell 12, so nutty 13, and so knowing? 14

XX.

But Tom's no more-and so no more of Tom. Heroes must die; and by God's blessing 'tis Not long before the most of them go home. Hail! Thamis, hail! Upon thy verge it is

[Gin or Hollands.]

2 [A thief of the lower order, who, when he is breeched by a course of successful depredation, dresses in the extreme of vulgar gentility, and affects a knowingness in his air and conversation, which renders him in reality an object of ridicule. -VAUX.]

[Any well-dressed person is emphatically called a swell, or a real swell.-P. EGAN.]

[A fellow who affects any particular habit, as swearing, dressing in a particular manner, taking snuff, &c. merely to be noticed, is said to do it out of flash. — Ibid.]

["2d Clown. But is this law?

1st Clown. Ay marry is 't? crowner's quest law."— Hamlet.]

6 [A house that harbours thieves is called a ken. -7 The playhouse. To puzzle or confound a gull, or silly fellow. Robbery on horseback. 10 Fun or sport of any kind. — 11 A pick-pocket's trull.12 So gentlemanly. See Slang Dictionary.]

13 [To be nuts upon, is to be very much pleased or gratified with any thing: thus, a person who conceives a strong inclination for another of the opposite sex is said to be quite nutty upon him or her. - Ibid.]

14 The advance of science and of language has rendered it unnecessary to translate the above good and true English, spoken in its original purity by the select mobility and their patrons. The following is a stanza of a song which was very popular, at least in my early days:

"On the high toby-spice flash the muzzle,
In spite of each gallows old scout;
If you at the spellken can't hustle,

You'll be hobbled in making a Clout.

If there be any gemman so ignorant as to require a traduction, I refer him to my old friend and corporeal pastor and master, John Jackson, Esq., Professor of Pugilism; who, I trust, still retains the strength and symmetry of his model of a form, together with his good humour, and athletic as well as mental accomplishments.

15 [A kind of medicated malt liquor; in which wormwood and aromatics are infused. - TODD.]

16 [The streets of London were first regularly lighted with gas in 1812.]

17 ["I very often," says Addison, "walk by myself in Westminster Abbey. When I look upon the tombs of the great, every emotion of envy dies in me; when I read the epitaphs of the beautiful, every inordinate desire goes out; when I meet with the grief of parents upon a tombstone, my heart melts with compassion; when I see the tomb of the parents themselves, I consider the vanity of grieving for those whom we must quickly follow. When I see kings lying by those who deposed them; when I consider rival wits placed side by side, or the holy men that divided the world with their contests and disputes; I reflect with sorrow and astonishment on the little competitions, factions, and debates of mankind. When I read the several dates of the tombs, of some that died yesterday, and some six hundred years ago, I consider that great day, when we shall all of us be contemporaries, and make our appearance together."]

།

XXV.

The Druids' groves are gone-so much the better: Stone-Henge is not- but what the devil is it? — But Bedlam still exists with its sage fetter,

That madmen may not bite you on a visit ;
The Bench too seats or suits full many a debtor ;
The Mansion House too (though some people quiz
To me appears a stiff yet grand erection;
But then the Abbey's worth the whole collection.
XXVI.

The line of lights too up to Charing Cross,
Pall Mall, and so forth, have a coruscation
Like gold as in comparison to dross,

Match'd with the Continent's illumination,
Whose cities Night by no means deigns to gloss.

[it)

The French were not yet a lamp-lighting nation, And when they grew soon their new-found lantern, Instead of wicks, they made a wicked man turn.

XXVII.

A row of gentlemen along the streets

Suspended may illuminate mankind, As also bonfires made of country seats;

But the old way is best for the purblind: The other looks like phosphorus on sheets, A sort of ignis fatuus to the mind,

Which, though 't is certain to perplex and frighten, Must burn more mildly ere it can enlighten. XXVIII

But London's so well lit, that if Diogenes

Could recommence to hunt his honest man, And found him not amidst the various progenies Of this enormous city's spreading spawn,

"T were not for want of lamps to aid his dodging his Yet undiscover'd treasure. What I can,

I've done to find the same throughout life's journey,
But see the world is only one attorney.
XXIX.

Over the stones still rattling, up Pall Mall,

Through crowds and carriages, but waxing thinner As thunder'd knockers broke the long seal'd spell Of doors 'gainst duns, and to an early dinner Admitted a small party as night fell,

Don Juan, our young diplomatic sinner, Pursued his path, and drove past some hotels, St. James's Palace and St. James's "Hells." 1

XXX.

[door

They reach'd the hotel: forth stream'd from the front
A tide of well-clad waiters, and around
The mob stood, and as usual several score
Of those pedestrian Paphians who abound
In decent London when the daylight's o'er;
Commodious but immoral, they are found
Useful, like Malthus, in promoting marriage. —
But Juan now is stepping from his carriage
XXXI.

Into one of the sweetest of hotels,

Especially for foreigners-and mostly

For those whom favour or whom fortune swells,
And cannot find a bill's small items costly.
There many an envoy either dwelt or dwells
(The den of many a diplomatic lost lie),
Until to some conspicuous square they pass,
And blazon o'er the door their names in brass.

1 "Hells," gaming-houses. What their number may now be in this life, I know not. Before I was of age I knew them pretty accurately, both "gold" and "silver." I was once nearly called out by an acquaintance, because when he asked

XXXIL

Juan, whose was a delicate commission, Private, though publicly important, bore No title to point out with due precision

The exact affair on which he was sent o'er. 'T was merely known, that on a secret mission A foreigner of rank had graced our shore, | Young, handsome, and accomplish'd, who was said (In whispers) to have turn'd his sovereign's head.

XXXIII.

Some rumour also of some strange adventures
Had gone before him, and his wars and loves;
And as romantic heads are pretty painters,
And, above all, an Englishwoman's roves
Into the excursive, breaking the indentures
Of sober reason, wheresoe'er it moves,
He found himself extremely in the fashion,
Which serves our thinking people for a passion.
XXXIV.

I don't mean that they are passionless, but quite
The contrary; but then 't is in the head;

Yet as the consequences are as bright
As if they acted with the heart instead,
What after all can signify the site

Of ladies' lucubrations? So they lead
In safety to the place for which you start,
What matters if the road be head or heart?
XXXV.

Juan presented in the proper place,

To proper placemen, every Russ credential; And was received with all the due grimace,

By those who govern in the mood potential, Who, seeing a handsome stripling with smooth face, Thought (what in state affairs is most essential) That they as easily might do the youngster, As hawks may pounce upon a woodland songster. XXXVI.

They err'd, as aged men will do'; but by

And by we'll talk of that; and if we don't,
"T will be because our notion is not high
Of politicians and their double front,
Who live by lies, yet dare not boldly lie:-
Now what I love in women is, they won't
Or can't do otherwise than lie, but do it
So well, the very truth seems falsehood to it.
XXXVII.

And, after all, what is a lie? 'Tis but

The truth in masquerade; and I defy
Historians, heroes, lawyers, priests, to put
A fact without some leaven of a lie.
The very shadow of true Truth would shut
Up annals, revelations, poesy,
And prophecy-except it should be dated
Some years before the incidents related.
XXXVIII.

Praised be all liars and all lies! Who now

Can tax my mild Muse with misanthropy?
She rings the world's "Te Deum," and her brow
Blushes for those who will not: - but to sigh
Is idle; let us like most others bow,

Kiss hands, feet, any part of majesty,

After the good example of "Green Erin," 2

Whose shamrock now seems rather worse for wearing.

me where I thought that his sou! would be found hereafter, I answered, "In silver Hell."

2 [See the Irish Avatar, antè, p. 575.]

XXXIX.

Don Juan was presented, and his dress

And mien excited general admiration

I don't know which was more admired or less:
One monstrous diamond drew much observation,
Which Catherine in a moment of "ivresse "

(In love or brandy's fervent fermentation)
Bestow'd upon him, as the public learn'd;
And, to say truth, it had been fairly earn'd.
XL.

Besides the minsters 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, fed
By foul corruption into streams, even they
Were hardly rude enough to earn their pay:
XLI.

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;

[neighbour,

And should you doubt, pray ask of your next When for a passport, or some other bar

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

XLII.

But Juan was received with much "empressement:"These phrases of refinement I must borrow

From our next neighbours' land, where, like a chess

man,

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

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

And yet the British "Damme "'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 1 This subject quote; as it would be schismatic

In politesse, and have a sound affronting in 't: But "Damme"'s quite ethereal, though too daringPlatonic blasphemy, the soul of swearing.

XLV.

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
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," 2
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.

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" 3
Throughout the season, upon speculation
Of payment ere the honey-moon'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?

wardrobe upon credit, to be repaid, when married, by the husband. The riddle was first read to me by a young and pretty heiress, on my praising the "drapery" of the "untochered" but "pretty virginities" (like Mrs. Anne Page) of the then day, which has now been some years yesterday: she assured me that the thing was common in London; and as her own thousands, and blooming looks, and rich simplicity of array, put any suspicion in her own case out of the question, I confess I gave some credit to the allegation. If necessary, authorities might be cited; in which case I could quote both "drapery" and the wearers. Let us hope, however, that it is now obsolete.

LL.

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.
That prodigy, Miss Araminta Smith

(Who at sixteen translated "Hercules Furcns'
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.
LIV.

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 it's.

LV.
In twice five years the "greatest living poet,"
Like to the champion in the fisty ring,

Is call'd 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.

LVI.

But Juan was my Moscow, and Faliero

My Leipsic, and my Mount Saint Jean seems Cain: 1 "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 my hero;

Nor reign at all, or as a monarch reign;

Or to some lonely isle of gaolers 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,

1 [See antè, p. 339.]

2 [Some Reviewer had bestowed the title of "a Moral Byron " on Mr. Bryan Procter, author of "Dramatic Sketches," &c. &c. all published under the name of " Barry Cornwall."]

3 [See antè, p. 515.]

4 [The Biographical Dictionary says, " Being in delicate health, he was induced to try the climate of Italy, where

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 modern curtsy,
And glides away, assured she never hurts ye.
LXIV.

My Juan, whom I left in deadly peril

Amongst live poets and blue ladies, past 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 very ill;

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

LXV.

His morns he pass'd in business—which dissected,
Was like all business, a laborious nothing
That leads to lassitude, the most infected

And Centaur Nessus garb of mortal clothing, 1 And on our sofas makes us lie dejected,

And talk in tender horrors of our loathing
All kinds of toil, save for our country's good
Which grows no better, though 't is time it should.
LXVI.

His afternoons he pass'd in visits, luncheons,
Lounging, and boxing; and the twilight hour
In riding round those vegetable puncheons [flower
Call'd " Parks," where there is neither fruit nor
Enough to gratify a bee's slight munchings;
But after all it is the only "bower," 2
(In Moore's phrase) where the fashionable fair
Can form a slight acquaintance with fresh air.
LXVII.

Then dress, then dinner, then awakes the world!
Then glare the lamps, then whirl the wheels, then

roar

Through street and square fast flashing chariots hurl'd
Like harness'd meteors; then along the floor
Chalk mimics painting; then festoons are twirl'd;
Then roll the brazen thunders of the door,
Which opens to the thousand happy few
An earthly paradise of " Or Molu.'

LXVIII.

There stands the noble hostess, nor shall sink
With the three-thousandth curtsy; there the waltz,
The only dance which teaches girls to think, 3
Makes one in love even with its very faults.
Saloon, room, hall, o'erflow beyond their brink,
And long the latest of arrivals halts,
'Midst royal dukes and dames condemn'd to climb,
And gain an inch of staircase at a time.
LXIX.

Thrice happy he who, after a survey

Of the good company, can win a corner, A door that's in or boudoir out of the way, Where he may fix himself like small "Jack Horner," And let the Babel round run as it may,

And look on as a mourner, or a scorner,
Or an approver, or a mere spectator,
Yawning a little as the night grows later.
LXX.

But this won't do, save by and by; and he
Who, like Don Juan, takes an active share,

Must steer with care through all that glittering sea Of gems and plumes and pearls and silks, to where He deems it is his proper place to be;

Dissolving in the waltz to some soft air,

Or proudlier prancing with mercurial skill,
Where Science marshals forth her own quadrille.
LXXI.

Or, if he dance not, but hath higher views
Upon an heiress or his neighbour's bride,
Let him take care that that which he pursues
Is not at once too palpably descried.
Full many an eager gentleman oft rues

His haste impatience is a blundering guide,
Amongst a people famous for reflection,
Who like to play the fool with circumspection.
LXXII.

But, if you can contrive, get next at supper;
Or if, forestall'd, get opposite and ogle : —
Oh, ye ambrosial moments! always upper
In mind, a sort of sentimental bogle, 4
Which sits for ever upon memory's crupper,

The ghost of vanish'd pleasures once in vogue! Ill Can tender souls relate the rise and fall

Of hopes and fears which shake a single ball.

LXXIII.

But these precautionary hints can touch

Only the common run, who must pursue, And watch, and ward; whose plans a word too much Or little overturns; and not the few Or many (for the number 's sometimes such) Whom a good mien, especially if new,

Or fame, or name, for wit, war, sense, or nonsense,
Permits whate'er they please, or did not long since.
LXXIV.

Our hero, as a hero, young and handsome,
Noble, rich, celebrated, and a stranger,
Like other slaves of course must pay his ransom,
Before he can escape from so much danger
As will environ a conspicuous man.

Some

Talk about poetry, and "rack and manger," And ugliness, disease, as toil and trouble; I wish they knew the life of a young noble.

LXXV.

They are young, but know not youth-it is anticipated;
Handsome but wasted, rich without a son;
Their vigour in a thousand arms is dissipated;

Their cash comes from, their wealth goes to a Jew; Both senates see their nightly votes participated

Between the tyrant's and the tribunes' crew; And having voted, dined, drank, gamed, and whored, The family vault receives another lord.

LXXVI.

"Where is the world?" cries Young, at eighty-5 "Where

The world in which a man was born?" Alas! Where is the world of eight years past? 'Twas there — I look for it 't is 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.

3 [See antè, p. 456.]

4 Scotch for goblin.

[Young was more than eighty years old when he published his poem, entitled "Resignation," &c.]