OXLVI. First came her damsels, a decorous file, And then his highness' eunuchs, black and white; The train might reach a quarter of a mile: His majesty was always so polite His highness was a man of solemn port, Shawl'd to the nose, and bearded to the eyes, Snatch'd from a prison to preside at court, His lately bowstrung brother caused his rise; As any mention'd in the histories He had fifty daughters and four dozen sons, They lived till some bashaw was sent abroad, His sons were kept in prison till they grew Could yet be known unto the fates alone; THE details of the siege of Ismail in two of the following cantos (i. e. the 7th and 8th) are taken from a French work, entitled "Histoire de la Nouvelle Russie." Some of the incidents attributed to Don Juan really occurred, particularly the circumstance of his saving the infant, which was the actual case of the late Duc de Richelieu, then a young volunteer in the Russian service, and afterwards the founder and benefactor of Odessa, where his name and memory can never ceasc to be regarded with reverence. In the course of these cantos, a stanza or two will be found relative to the late Marquis of Londonderry, but written some time before his decease. Had that person's oligarchy died with him, they would have been suppressed; as it is, 1 am aware of nothing in the manner of his death or of his life to prevent the free expression of the opinions of all whom his whole existence was consumed in endeavouring to enslave. That he was an amiable man in private life, may or may not be true; but with this the public have nothing to do: and as to lamenting his oppression, or over-pensioned homicides to the impris death, it will be time enough when Ireland has ceased alliance which insults the world with the near to mourn for his birth. As a minister, I, for one of "Holy!" I have no wish to trample on the dish a un millions, looked upon him as the most despotic in inten- or the dead; but it would be well if the adherents ie 1 r tion, and the weakest in intellect, that ever tyrannized classes from whence those persons sprung, should way a over a country. It is the first time indeed since the little of the cant which is the crying sin of this dre Normans, that England has been insulted by a minister dealing and false-speaking time of selfish sprilers, and (at least) who could not speak English, and that Parlia--but enough for the present. ⚫ment permitted itself to be dictated to in the language of Mrs. Malaprop. Of the manner of his death little need be said, except that if a poor radical, such as Waddington or Watson, had cut his throat, he would have been buried in a crossroad, with the usual appurtenances of the stake and mallet. But the minister was an elegant lunatic-a sent'mental suicide-he merely cut the "carotid artery" (blessings on their learning!)—and lo! the pageant, and the abbey, and "the syllables of dolour yelled forth" by the newspapers-and the harangue of the coroner in an eulogy over the bleeding body of the deceased-(an Antony worthy of such a Caesar)-and the nauseous and atrocious cant of a degraded crew of conspirators against all that is sincere or honourable. In his death he was necessarily one of two things by the law-a felon or a madman-and in either case no great subject for panegyric.* In his life he was-what all the world knows, and half of it will feel for years to come, unless his death prove a "moral lesson" to the surviving Sejanit of Europe. It may at least serve as some consolation to the nations, that their oppressors are not happy, and in some instances judge so justly of their own actions as to anticipate the sentence of mankind.-Let us hear no more of this man, and let Ireland remove the ashes of her Grattan from the sanctuary of Westminster. Shall the Patriot of Humanity repose by the Werther of Poüitics!!! With regard to the objections which have been made on another score to the already published cantos of this poem, I shall content myself with two quotations from Voltaire: "La pudeur s'est enfuite des cœurs, et s'est refugiée sur les lèvres." "Plus les mœurs sont depravées, plus les expressions deviennent mesurées; on croit regagner en langage ce qu'on a perdu en vertu." The This is the real fact, as applicable to the degraded and hypocritical mass which leavens the present English generation, and is the only answer they deserve. Sackneyed and lavished title of blasphemer-which with radical, liberal, jacobin, reformer, &c. are the changes which the hirelings are daily ringing in the ears of those who will listen-should be welcome to all who recollect on whom it was originally bestowed. Socrates and Jesus Christ were put to death publicly as blasphemers, and so have been and may be many who dare to oppose the most notorious abuses of the name of God and the mind of man. But persecution is not refutation, nor even triumph; the wretched infidel, as he is called, is probably happier in his prison than the proudest of his assailants. With his opinions I have nothing to dothey may be right or wrong-but he has suffered for them, and that very suffering for conscience' sake will make more proselytes to Deism than the example of neterodox prelates to Christianity, suicide statesmen to I say by the law of the land-the laws of humanity Judge more VI. Fently but as the legitimates have always the law in their mouths, T was the boy's "mite," and like the "widow's," may them here make the most of it. 1 From this number must be excepted Canning. Canning is a genius, almost a universal one: an orator, a wit, a poet, a statesman; and no man of talent can long pursue the path of his late predecessor, Lord C. If ever man saved his country, Canning can; but will he? I, for one, hope so. When Lord Sandwich said he did not knew the difference between orthodoxy and heterodoxy,"-Warburton, the bishop, replied, " OrthoJoxy, my lord, is my dory, and heterodoxy is another man's doxy."A prelate of the present day has discovered, it stems, a third kind of Sory, which has not greatly exalted in the eyes of the elect, that which Bentham ca la Church-of-Englandiam." Perhaps be weigh'd hereafter, if not now; H I love the sex, and sometimes would reverse Oh enviable Briareus! with thy hands And heads, if thou hadst all things multiplied So let us back to Lilliput, and guide XXIX. He went forth with the lovely Odalisques, Are worse than the worst damages men pay xxx. Still he forgot not his disguise:-along The galleries from room to room they walk'd, A virgin-like and edifying throng, By eunuchs flank'd; while at their head there stalk'd A dame who kept up discipline among The female ranks, so that none stirr'd or talk'd Or whether they were "maids" who call'd her tha But this is her seraglio title, got I know not how, but good as any other: So Cantemir can tell you, or De Tott: Her office was to keep aloof or smother A goodly sinecure, no doubt! but made A slight example, just to cast a shade Their talk of course ran most on the new comer, XXXVI. But no one doubted, on the whole, that she So silly as to buy slaves who might share XXXVII. But what was strangest in this virgin crew, They all found out as few, or fewer, specks, XXXVIII. And yet they had their little jealousies, Here Lolah interposed-"Mamma, you know I'll take Juanna; we 're a slenderer pair "She also had compassion and a bed." XLVIII. "Besides, I hate to sleep alone," quoth she, The matron frown'd: "Why so?"-"For fear of ghosts " Replied Katinka; "I am sure I see A phantom upon each of the four posts; And then I have the worst dreams that can be, Of Guebres, Giaours, and Ginns, and Gouls in hosts." The dame replied, "Between your dreams and you, I fear Juanna's dreams would be but few. XLIX. 66 You, Lolah, must continue still to lie The same, Katinka, until by and by; And I shall place Juanna with Dudù, And will not toss and chatter the night through. L. But she rose up and kiss d the matron sorow Their place of rest, and left to both their piques, LI. It was a spacious chamber, (Oda is The Turkish title,) and ranged round the wall But it suffices-little was amiss; 'T was on the whole a nobly furnish'd hall, With all things ladies want save one or two, And even those were nearer than they knew. LII. Dudù, as has been said, was a sweet creature, Not very dashing, but extremely winning, With the most regulated charms of feature, Which painters cannot catch like faces sinning Against proportion-the wild strokes of nature Which they hit off at once in the beginning, Full of expression, right or wrong, that strike, And, pleasing or unpleasing, still are like. LIII. But she was a soft landscape of mild earth, LIV. But she was pensive more than melancholy, Her thoughts, at least till now, appear to have been.. |