A legal broom 's a moral chimney-sweeper,

And that 's the reason he himself 's so dirty;
The endless soot a bestows a tint far deeper

Than can be hid by altering his shirt; he Retains the sable stains of the dark creeper

At least some twenty-nine do out of thirty, In all their habits : not so you,


own ; As Cæsar wore his robe, you wear your gown.

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And all our little feuds, at least all mine,

Dear Jeffrey, once my most redoubted foe (As far as rhyme and criticism combine

To make such puppets of us things below),
Are over: Here 's a health to “ Auld Lang Syne !.”
I do not know


may never know Your face,—but you have acted on the whole Most nobly, and I own it from my soul.


And when I use the phrase of “ Auld Lang Syne!"

'T is not address'd to you—the more 's the pity For me, for I would rather take


With you, than aught (save Scott) in your proud city.
But somehow,-it may seem a schoolboy's whine,

And yet I seek not to be grand nor witty,
But I am half a Scot by birth, and bred
A whole one, and my heart flies to my head :-


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As “ Auld Lang Syne" brings Scotland, one and all,

Scotch plaids, Scotch snoods, the blue hills, and clear streams The Dee, the Don, Balgounie's Brig's black wall,

All my boy feelings, all iny gentler dreams
Of what I then dreamt, clothed in their own pall,

Like Banquo's offspring floating past me seems
My childhood in this childishness of mine ;
I care not-t is a glimpse of “ Auld Lang Syne."

And though, as you remember, in a fit

Of wrath and rhyme, when juvenile and curly,
J rail'd at Scots to show my wrath and wit,

Which must be own'd was sensitive and surly, Yet 't is in vain such sallies to permit

They cannot quench young feelings fresh and early : I “scotch'd, not kill'd,” the Scotchman in my blood, And love the land of “mountain and of flood."

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XX. Don Juan, who was real, or ideal,

For both are much the same, since what men think Exists when the once thinkers are less real

Than what they thought, for mind can never sink, And 'gainst the body makes a strong appeal;

And yet ’t is very puzzling on the brink
Of what is call’d eternity, to stare,
And know no more of what is here than there :



Don Juan grew a very polish'd Russian-

How we won't mention, why we need not say: Few youthful minds can stand the strong concussion

Of any slight temptation in their way ; But his just now were spread as is a cushion

Smooth'd for a monarch's seat of honour : gay
Damsels, and dances, revels, ready money,
Made ice seem paradise, and winter sunny.

The favour of the empress was agreeable ;

And though the duty wax'd a little hard,
Young people at his time of life should be able

To come off handsomely in that regard.
He now was growing up like a green tree, able

For love, war, or ambition, which reward
Their luckier votaries, till old age's tedium
Make some prefer the circulating medium.

About this time, as might have been anticipated,

Seduced by youth and dangerous examples,
Don Juan grew, I fear, a little dissipated;

Which is a sad thing, and not only tramples On our fresh feelings, but—as being participated

With all kinds of incorrigible samples
Of frail humanity—must make us selfish,
And shut our souls up in us like a shell-fish.

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This we pass over.

We will also pass
The usual progress of intrigues between
Unequal matches, such as are, alas !

lieutenant's with a not old queen, But one who is not so youthful as she was

In all the royalty of sweet seventeen. Sovereigns may sway materials, but not matter, And wrinkles (the d-d democrats) won't flatter :

XXV. And Death, the sovereign's sovereign, though the great

Gracchus of all mortality, who levels, With his Agrarian laws, the high estate

Of him who feasts, and fights, and roars, and revels, To one small grass-grown patch (which must await

Corruption for its crop) with the poor devils
Who never had a foot of land till now,
Death 's a reformer, all men must allow.

He lived (not Death, but Juan) in a hurry

Of waste, and haste, and glare, and gloss, and glitter, In this gay clime of bear-skins black and furry

Which (though I hate to say a thing that's bitter,
Peep out sometimes, when things are in a flurry,

Through all the “purple and fine linen,” Gitter
For Babylon's than Russia's royal harlot-
And neutralize her outward show of scarlet.

And this same state we won't describe : we would

Perhaps from hearsay, or from recollection ;
But getting nigh grim Dante's “ obscure wood,"

That horrid equinox, that hateful section
Of human years, that half-way house, that rude

Hut, whence wise travellers drive with circumspection
Life's sad post-horses o'er the dreary frontier
Of age, and, looking back to youth, give one tear ;-

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I won't describe-that is, if I can help

Description : and I won't reflect—that is,!
If I can stave off thought, which—as a whelp

Clings to its teat-sticks to me through the abyss Of this odd labyrinth ; or as the kelp

Holds by the rock; or as a lover's kiss
Drains its first draught of lips : but, as I said,
I won't philosophize, and will be read.

Juan, instead of courting courts, was courted,

A thing which happens rarely ; this he owed
Much to his youth, and much to his reported

Valour ; much also to the blood he show'd,
Like a race-horse; much to each dress he sported,

Which set the beauty off in which he glow'd,
As purple clouds befringe the sun ; but niost
He owed to an old woman and his post.

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He wrote to Spain :-and all his near relations,

Perceiving he was in a handsome way
Of getting on himself, and finding stations

For cousins also, answer'd the same day. Several prepared themselves for emigrations ;

And, eating ices, were o'erheard to say, That with the addition of a slight pelisse, Madrid's and Moscow's climes were of a piece.

XXXI. His mother, Donna Inez, finding too

That in the lieu of drawing on his banker, Where his assets were waxing rather few,

He had brought his spending to a handsome anchor, Replied, " that she was glad to see him through

Those pleasures after which wild youth will hanker ; As the sole sign of man's being in his senses Is, learning to reduce his past expenses.

XXXII. " She also recommended him to God,

And no less to God's Son, as well as Mother, Warn’d him against Greek-worship, which looks odd

In catholic eyes : but told him too to smother
Outward dislike, which don't look well abroad;

Inform'd him that he had a little brother
Born in a second wedlock; and above
All, praised the empress's maternal love.

XXXIII. « She could not too much give her approbation

Unto an empress, who preferr’d young men Whose age, and, what was better still, whose nation

And climate, stopp'd all scandal (now and then) :At home it might have given her some vexation;

But where thermometers sunk down to ten, Or live, or one, or zero, she could never Believe that virtue thaw'd before the river."

Oh for a forty-parson power: 4 to chaunt

Thy praise, hypocrisy! Oh for a hymn
Loud as the virtues thou dost loudly vaunt,

Not practise! Oh for trumps of cherubim !
Or the ear-trumpet of my good old aunt,

Who, though her spectacles at last grew dim,
Drew quiet consolation through its hint,
When she no more could read the pious print.

She was no hypocrite, at least, poor soul !

But went to heaven in as sincere a way
As any body on the elected roll,

Which portions out upon the judgment day Heaven's freeholds, in a sort of doomsday scroll,

Such as the conqueror William did repay
His knights with, lotting others' properties
Into some sixty thousand new knights' fees.

I can't complain, whose ancestors are there,

Erneis, Radulphus--eight-and-forty manors (If that my memory doth not greatly err)

Were their reward for following Billy's banners ; And, though I can't help thinking 't was scarce fair

To strip the Saxons of their hydes,“ like tanners, Yet as they founded churches with the produce, You 'll deem, no doubt, they put it to a good use.


The gentle Juan flourish'd, though at times

He felt like other plants call’d sensitive,
Which shrink from touch, as monarchs do from rhymes,

Save such as Southey can afford to give. Perhaps he long'd, in bitter frosts, for climes

In which the Neva's ice would cease to live Before May-day : perhaps, despite his duty, In royalty's vast arms he sigh’d for beauty :

Perhaps,—but, sans perhaps, we need not seek

For causes young or old : the canker-worm
Will feed upon the fairest, freshest cheek,

As well as further drain the wither'd form:
Care, like a housekeeper, brings every week

His bills in, and, however we may storm,
They must be paid ; though six days smoothly run,
The seventh will bring blue devils or a dun.


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I don't know how it was, but he grew sick :

The empress was alarm’d, and her physician
(The same who physick’d Peter) found the tick

Of his fierce pulse betoken a condition Which augur'd of the dead, however quick

Itself, and show'd a feverish disposition; At which the whole court was extremely troubled, The sovereign shock’d, and all his medicines doubled.


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