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'Tis the same landscape which the modern Mars saw,

Who march'd to Moscow, led by Fame, the siren! To lose by one month's frost some twenty years 'Of conquest, and his guard of grenadiers.

Let this not seem an anti-climax:-

.6 Oh! [clay. My guard! my old guard!" (1) exclaim'd that god of Think of the Thunderer’s falling down below

Carotid-artery-cutting Castlereagh !
Alas! that glory should be chill'd by snow !

But should we wish to warm us on our way
Through Poland, there is Kosciusko's name
Might scatter fire through ice, like Hecla's flame. (2)


From Poland they came on through Prussia Proper,

And Königsberg the capital, whose vaunt, Besides some veins of iron, lead, or copper,

Has lately been the great Professor Kant.(3)

happened in 1740, Biren, being declared regent, continued daily increasing his vexations and cruelties, till he was arrested, on the 18th of December, only twenty days after he had been appointed to the regency; and at the revolution that ensued he was exiled to the frozen shores of the Oby."


(1) [Napoleon's exclamation at the Elysée Bourbon, June the 23d 1815.] (2) [“ Hope for a moment bade the world farewell, And freedom shriek'd when Kosciusko fell.”


(3) [Immanuel Kant, the celebrated founder of a new philosophical sect, was born at Königsberg. He died in 1804.]

Juan, who cared not a tobacco-stopper

About philosophy, pursued his jaunt To Germany, whose somewhat tardy millions Have princes who spur more than their postilions.


And thence through Berlin, Dresden, and the like,

Until he reach'd the castellated Rhine :Ye glorious Gothic scenes ! how much ye

strike All phantasies, not even excepting mine; A grey wall, a green ruin, rusty pike,

Make my soul pass the equinoctial line Between the present and past worlds, and hover Upon their airy confine, half-seas-over.


But Juan posted on through Manheim, Bonn,

Which Drachenfels (1) frowns over like a spectre Of the good feudal times for ever gone,

On which I have not time just now to lecture. From thence he was drawn onwards to Cologne,

A city which presents to the inspector
Eleven thousand maidenheads of bone,
The greatest number flesh hath ever known. (2)

(1) [" The castled crag of Drachenfels
Frowns o’er the wide and winding Rhine," &c.

See antè, Vol. VIII. p. 156.] (2) St. Ursula and her eleven thousand virgins were still extant in 1816, and may be so yet, as much as ever.


From thence to Holland's Hague and Helvoetsluys,

That water-land of Dutchmen and of ditches, Where juniper expresses its best juice,

The poor man's sparkling substitute for riches. Senates and sages have condemn'd its use

But to deny the mob a cordial, which is Too often all the clothing, meat, or fuel, Good government has left them, seems but cruel.


Here he embark'd, and with a flowing sail

Went bounding for the island of the free, Towards which the impatient wind blew half a gale;

High dash'd the spray, the bows dipp'd in the sea, And sea-sick passengers turn'd somewhat pale;

But Juan, season'd, as he well might be, By former voyages, stood to watch the skiffs Which pass'd, or catch the first glimpse of the cliffs


At length they rose, like a white wall along

The blue sea's border; and Don Juan feltWhat even young strangers feel a little strong

At the first sight of Albion's chalky belt A kind of pride that he should be among

Those haughty shopkeepers, who sternly dealt
Their goods and edicts out from pole to pole,
And made the



them toll.


I've no great cause to love that spot of earth,

Which holds what might have been the noblest But though I owe it little but my birth, [nation;

I feel a mix'd regret and veneration For its decaying fame and former worth.

Seven years (the usual term of transportation) Of absence lay one's old resentments level, When a man's country's going to the devil.


Alas! could she but fully, truly, know

How her great name is now throughout abhorr’d; How eager

all the earth is for the blow Which shall lay bare her bosom to the sword; How all the nations deem her their worst foe,

That worse than worst of foes, the once adored False friend, who held out freedom to mankind, And now would chain them, to the very mind;


Would she be proud, or boast herself the free,

Who is but first of slaves ? The nations are In prison, but the gaoler, what is he?

No less a victim to the bolt and bar.
Is the poor privilege to turn the key

Upon the captive, freedom ? He's as far
From the enjoyment of the earth and air
Who watches o'er the chain, as they who wear.


Don Juan now saw Albion's earliest beauties,

Thy cliffs, dear Dover ! harbour, and hotel ; Thy custom-house, with all its delicate duties ;

Thy waiters running mucks at every bell ; Thy packets, all whose passengers are booties

To those who upon land or water dwell ; And last, not least, to strangers uninstructed, Thy long, long bills, whence nothing is deducted.


Juan, though careless, young, and magnifique,

And rich in rubles, diamonds, cash, and credit, Who did not limit much his bills


week, Yet stared at this a little, though he paid it, (His Maggior Duomo, a smart, subtle Greek,

Before him summ’d the awful scroll and read it :) But doubtless as the air, though seldom sunny, Is free, the respiration's worth the money.


On with the horses! Off to Canterbury !
Tramp, trampo'er pebble, and splash, splash through

Hurrah ! how swiftly speeds the post so merry!

Not like slow Germany, wherein they muddle Along the road, as if they went to bury

Their fare; and also pause besides, to fuddle With “schnapps” — sad dogs! whom "Hundsfot,” or

66 Verflucter,” Affect no more than lightning a conductor.

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