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Oh, ye great authors luminous, voluminous !
Oh, ye great authors!" A propos de bottes"-
Certes it would have been but thrown away,
But let it go it will one day be found
Thrown topsy-turvy, twisted, crisp'd, and curl'd,
So Cuvier says;-and then shall come again
From our old crash, some mystic, ancient strain
Like to the notions we now entertain
Of Titans, giants, fellows of about
Some hundred feet in height, not to say miles,
And mammoths, and your winged crocodiles.
Think, if then George the Fourth should be dug up!
Will wonder where such animals could sup!
Even worlds miscarry, when too oft they pup,
In size, from overworking the material—
How will to these young people, just thrust out
And plant, and reap, and spin, and grind, and sow, Till all the arts at length are brought about,
Especially of war and taxing,-how,
I say, will these great relics, when they see 'em,
But I am apt to grow too metaphysical :
I ne'er decide what I shall say, and this I call
So on I ramble, now and then narrating,
Now pondering. It is time we should narrate: I left Don Juan with his horses baiting
Now we 'll get o'er the ground at a great rate. I shall not be particular in stating
His journey-we 've so many tours of late : Suppose him then at Petersburgh; suppose That pleasant capital of painted snows;
Suppose him in a handsome uniform;
A scarlet coat, black facings, a long plume,
Over a cock'd hat, in a crowded room,
Suppose him, sword by side, and hat in hand,
(When she don't pin men's limbs in like a jailor)
Behold him placed as if upon a pillar! He
His bandage slipp'd down into a cravat;
His side as a small sword, but sharp as ever;
But still so like, that Psyche were more clever Than some wives (who make blunders no less stupid) If she had not mistaken him for Cupid.
The courtiers stared, the ladies whisper'd, and
The empress smiled; the reigning favourite frown'd
I quite forget which of them was in hand
Just then, as they are rather numerous found,
Who took by turns that difficult command,
Juan was none of these, but slight and slim,
And still more in his eye, which seem'd to express,
There lurk'd a man beneath the spirit's dress. Besides, the empress sometimes liked a boy, And had just buried the fair-faced Lanskoi :4
No wonder then that Yermoloff, vor Momonoff,
Or on, might dread her majesty had not room enough
For a new flame; a thought to cast of gloom enough
Oh gentle ladies! should you seek to know
Which none divine, and every one obeys,
I think I can explain myself without
An English lady ask'd of an Italian,
What were the actual and official duties
Whose statues warm (I fear, alas! too true 't is). Beneath his art. The dame, press'd to disclose them, Said "Lady, I beseech you to suppose them.”
And thus I supplicate your supposition,
And mildest, matron-like interpretation
Of the imperial favourite's condition.
'T was a high place, the highest in the nation,
In fact, if not in rank; and the suspicion
Of any one's attaining to his station,
No doubt gave pain, where each new pair of shoulders, If rather broad, made stocks rise and their holders.
Juan, I said, was a most beauteous boy,
With beards and whiskers and the like, the fond
And founded Doctors' Commons :-I have conn'd. The history of divorces, which, though chequer'd,. Calls Ilion's the first damages on record.
And Catherine, who loved all things (save her lord,
Of sentiment; and he she most adored
A lover as had cost her many a tear,
And yet but made a middling grenadier.
Oh thou" teterrima causa" of all "belli !"-
May pause in pondering how all souls are dipp'd
Know not, since knowledge saw her branches stripp'd Of her first fruit; but how he falls and rises
Since, thou hast settled beyond all surmises.
Some call thee "the worst cause of war," but I
Thou dost replenish worlds both great and small :
Catherine, who was the grand epitome
Of that great cause of war, or peace, or what
The handsome herald, on whose plumage sat
Then recollecting the whole empress, nor
"The court, that watch'd each look her visage wore
Fair weather for the day. Though rather spacious,
Great joy was hers, or rather joys; the first
As an East-Indian sunrise on the main.
These quench'd a moment her ambition's thirst—