Note 1. Stanza xii.

Would scarcely join again the reformadoes.” “Reforiners” or rather “Reformed.” The Baron Bradwardine, in Waverley, is authority for the word.

Note 2. Stanza xv.
The endless soot bestows a tint far deeper

Than can be hid by altering his shirt.
Query, suit?-PRINTER's Devil.

Note 3. Stanza xvil.

The Dee, the Don, Balgounie's Brig's black wail, The brig of Don, near the “ auld toun” of Aberdeen, with its one arch and its black deep salmon stream below, is in my memory as yesterday. I still remember, though perhaps I may misquote, the awful proverb which made me pause to cross it, and yet lean over it with a childish delight, being an only son, at least by the mother's side. The saying, as recollected by me, was this, but I have never heard or seen it since I was nine years of age :

Brig of Balgoupie, black's your wa';
Wi'a wife's ae son and a mear's ae foal
Doun ye shall fa'!

Note 4. Stanza xxxiv.
Oh for a forty-parson power to chaunt

Thy praise, hypocrisy, A metaphor taken from the “forty-horse power” of a steam-engine. That inad wag, the Reverend S. S., sitting by a brother clergyman at dinner, observed afterwards that his dull neighbour had a twelve-parson power of conversation.

Note 5. Stanza xxxvi.

To strip the Saxons of their hydes, like tanners. “Hyde.”—I believe a byde of land to be a legitimate word, and as such subject to the tax of a quibble.

Note 6. Stanza xlix.

Was given to her favourite, and now bore his. The Empress went to the Crimea, accompanied by the Emperor Joseph, in the year-I forget which.

Note 7. Stanza lviii. Which gave her dukes the graceless name of “Biron.” In the Empress Anne's time, Biron her favourite assumed the name and arms of the “Birons” of France, which fainilies are yet extant with that of Engiand. There

are still the daughters of Courland of that name; one of them I remember seeing in England in the blessed year of the Allies—the Duchess of S.- to whom the English Duchess of St presented me as a name-sake.

Note 8. Stanza lxii.

Eleven thousand maidenheads of bone,

The greatest number flesh hath ever known. St. Ursula and her eleven thousand virgins were still extant in 1816, and may be so yet as niuch as ever.

Note 9. Stanza lxxxi.
Who butcher'd half the earth, and bullied t' other.

India. America.


WHEN Bishop Berkeley said “ there was no matter,”

And proved it—'t was no matter what he said :
They say his system 't is in vain to batter,,

Too subtle for the airiest human head;

who can believe it? I would shatter
Gladly all matters down to stone or lead,
Or adamant, to find the world a spirit,
And wear my head, denying that I wear it.

What a sublime discovery ’t was to make the

Universe universal egotism,
That all 's ideal-all ourselves! I 'll stake the

World (be it what you will) that that 's no schism.
Oh doubt!-if thou be'st doubt, for which some take thee,

But which I doubt extremely—thou sole prism
Of the truth’s rays, spoil not my draught of spirit!
Heaven's brandy, though our brain can hardly bear it.

For ever and anon comes indigestion

(Not the most “ dainty Ariel"), and perplexes Our soarings with another sort of question :

And that which, after all, my spirit vexes
Is, that I find no spot where man can rest eye on,

Without confusion of the sorts and sexes,
Of beings, stars, and this unriddled wonder,
The world, which at the worst 's a glorious blunder-

If it be chance ; or if it be according

To the old text, still better ! lest it should
Turn out so, we 'll say nothing 'gainst the wording,

As several people think such hazards rude :
They 're right; our days are too brief for affording

Space to dispute what no one ever could
Decide, and every body one day will
Know very clearly—or at last lie still.

And therefore will I leave off metaphysical

Discussion, which is neither here nor there :
If I

that what is, is—then this I call
Being quite perspicuous and extremely fair.
The truth is, I 've grown lately rather phthisical :

I don't know what the reason is—the air,
Perhaps ; but as I suffer from the shocks
Of illness, I grow much more orthodox.

The first attack at once proved the divinity

(But that I never doubted, nor the devil); The next, the Virgin's mystical virginity;

The third, the usual origin of evil ;
The fourth at once establish'd the whole Trinity

On so incontrovertible a level,
That I devoutly wish the three were four,
On purpose to believe so much the more.

To our theme :-The man who has stood on the Acropolis,

And look'd down over Attica ; or he
Who has sail'd where picturesque Constantinople is,

Or seen Tombuctoo, or hath taken tea
In small-eyed China's crockery-ware metropolis,

Or sat amidst the bricks of Nineveh,
May not think much of London's first appearance-
But ask him what he thinks of it


hence ?


Don Juan had got out on Shooter's Hill-

Sunset the time, the place the same declivity
Which looks along that vale of good and ill,

Where London streets ferment in full activity ;
While every thing around was calm and still,

Except the creak of wheels, which on their pivot he
Heard, -and that bee-like, bubbling, basy hum
Of cities, that boil over with their scum :-

I say, Don Juan, rapt in contemplation,

Walk'd on behind his carriage, o'er the summit,
And lost in wonder of so great a nation,

Gave way to 't, since he could not overcome it.
“And here,” he cried, “is freedom's chosen station;

Here peals the people's voice, nor can entomb it
Racks, prisons, inquisitions ; resurrection
Awaits it, each new meeting or election.

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X. “ Here are chaste wives, pure lives; here people pay

But what they please ; and if that things be dear, 'T is only that they love to throw away

Their cash, to show how much they have a-year. Here laws are all inviolate ; none lay

Traps for the traveller; every highway 's clear : Here--" he was interrupted by a knife,

With “D-n your eyes ! your money or your life.”

These freeborn sounds proceeded from four pads,

In ambush laid, who had perceived him loiter
Behind his carriage; and, like handy lads,

Had seized the lucky hour to reconnoitre, In which the heedless gentleman who gads

Upon the road, unless he prove a fighter, May find himself, within that isle of riches, Exposed to lose his life as well as breeches.

XII. Juan, who did not understand a word

Of English, save their shibboleth, “God damn!' And even that he had so rarely heard,

He sometimes thought ’t was only their “salain," Or “God be with you!”—and 't is not absurd

To think so; for, half English as I am
(To my misfortune), never can I say
I heard them wish.“ God with you," save that way :-

Juan yet quickly understood their gesture,

And, being somewhat choleric and sudden,
Drew forth a pocket-pistol from his vesture,

And fired it into one assailant's puddingWho fell, as rolls an ox o'er in his pasture,

And roar'd out, as he writhed his native in, Unto his nearest follower or henchman, - Oh Jack! I'm floor'd by that 'ere bloody Frenchman!”

On which Jack and his train set off at speed,

And Juan's suite, late scatter'd at a distance,
Came up, all marvelling at such a deed,

And offering, as usual, late assistance.
Juan, who saw the moon's late minion bleed

As if his veins would pour out his existence,
Stood calling out for bandages and lint,
And wish'd he'd been less hasty with his flint.

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