XXIII.

Through this, and much, and more, is the approach Of travellers to mighty Babylon:

Whether they come by horse, or chaise, or coach, With slight exceptions, all the ways seem one. I could say more, but do not choose to encroach Upon the Guide-book's privilege. The sun Had set some time, and night was on the ridge Of twilight, as the party cross'd the bridge.

XXIV.

That's rather fine, the gentle sound of ThamisWho vindicates a moment, too, his streamThough hardlyheard through multifarious "damme's." The lamps of Westminster's more regular gleam, The breadth of pavement, and yon shrine where fame is

A spectral resident-whose pallid beam

In shape of moonshine hovers o'er the pile-
Make this a sacred part of Albion's isle.(1)

(1) ["I very often," says Addison, "walk by myself in Westminster Abbey. I know that entertainments of this nature are apt to raise dark and dismal thoughts in timorous minds, and gloomy imaginations: but for my own part, though I am always serious, I do not know what it is to be melancholy; and can, therefore, take a view of nature, in her deep and solemn scenes, with the same pleasure as in her most gay and delightful ones. By this means I can improve myself with those objects, which others consider with terror. When I look upon the tombs of the great, every emotion of envy dies in me; when I read the epitaphs of the beautiful, every inordinate desire goes out; when I meet with the grief of parents upon a tombstone, my heart melts with compassion; when I see the tomb of the parents themselves, I consider the vanity of grieving for those whom we must quickly follow. When I see kings lying by those who deposed them; when I consider rival wits placed side by side, or the holy men that divided the world with their contests and disputes; I refiect with sorrow and astonishment on the little competitions, factions, and debates of mankind. When I read the several dates of the tombs, of some that died yesterday, and some six hundred years ago, I consider that great day, when we shall all of us be contemporaries, and make our appearance together."]

XXV.

The Druids' groves are gone. so much the better: Stone-Henge is not-but what the devil is it? But Bedlam still exists with its sage fetter,

That madmen may not bite you on a visit; The Bench too seats or suits full many a debtor; The Mansion House too (though some people quiz To me appears a stiff yet grand erection; [it) But then the Abbey's worth the whole collection.

XXVI.

The line of lights too up to Charing Cross,
Pall Mall, and so forth, have a coruscation
Like gold as in comparison to dross,

Match'd with the Continent's illumination,
Whose cities Night by no means deigns to gloss.

The French were not yet a lamp-lighting nation, And when they grew so-on their new-found lantern, Instead of wicks, they made a wicked man turn. n.(1)

XXVII.

A row of gentlemen along the streets
Suspended, may illuminate mankind,
As also bonfires made of country seats;
But the old way is best for the purblind:
The other looks like phosphorus on sheets,
A sort of ignis fatuus to the mind,
Which, though 'tis certain to perplex and frighten,
Must burn more mildly ere it can enlighten.

(1) [Camille Des Moulins jocularly styled himself, "Attorney-General to the lanthorn."]

XXVIII.

But London's so well lit, that if Diogenes
Could recommence to hunt his honest man,
And found him not amidst the various progenies
Of this enormous city's spreading spawn,
'Twere not for want of lamps to aid his dodging his
Yet undiscover'd treasure. What I can,
I've done to find the same throughout life's journey,
But see the world is only one attorney.

XXIX.

Over the stones still rattling, up Pall Mall,
Through crowds and carriages, but waxing thinner
As thunder'd knockers broke the long seal'd spell
Of doors 'gainst duns, and to an early dinner
Admitted a small party as night fell,-

Don Juan, our young diplomatic sinner, Pursued his path, and drove past some hotels, St. James's Palace and St. James's " Hells." (1)

XXX.

[door

They reach'd the hotel: forth stream'd from the front
A tide of well-clad waiters, and around
The mob stood, and as usual several score
Of those pedestrian Paphians who abound
In decent London when the daylight's o'er;

Commodious but immoral, they are found
Useful, like Malthus, in promoting marriage.-
But Juan now is stepping from his carriage

(1) "Hells," gaming.houses. What their number may now be in this life, I know not. Before I was of age I knew them pretty accurately, both gold” and “silver." I was once nearly called out by an acquaintance, because when he asked me where I thought that his soul would be found hereafter, I answered, " In Silver Hell."

XXXI.

Into one of the sweetest of hotels,

Especially for foreigners—and mostly

For those whom favour or whom fortune swells,
And cannot find a bill's small items costly,
There many an envoy either dwelt or dwells
(The den of many a diplomatic lost lie),
Until to some conspicuous square they pass,
And blazon o'er the door their names in brass.

XXXII.

Juan, whose was a delicate commission,
Private, though publicly important, bore
No title to point out with due precision
The exact affair on which he was sent o'er.
'Twas merely known, that on a secret mission
A foreigner of rank had graced our shore,
Young, handsome, and accomplish'd, who was said
(In whispers) to have turn'd his sovereign's head.

XXXIII.

Some rumour also of some strange adventures
Had gone before him, and his wars and loves;
And as romantic heads are pretty painters,
And, above all, an Englishwoman's roves
Into the excursive, breaking the indentures
Of sober reason, wheresoe'er it moves,
He found himself extremely in the fashion,
Which serves our thinking people for a passion.

XXXIV.

I don't mean that they are passionless, but quite
The contrary; but then 'tis in the head;
Yet as the consequences are as bright

As if they acted with the heart instead,
What after all can signify the site

Of ladies' lucubrations? So they lead
In safety to the place for which you start,
What matters if the road be head or heart?

✓ XXXV.

Juan presented in the proper place,

To proper placemen, every Russ credential; And was received with all the due grimace,

By those who govern in the mood potential, Who, seeing a handsome stripling with smooth fac Thought (what in state affairs is most essentia. That they as easily might do the youngster, As hawks may pounce upon a woodland songster.

XXXVI.

They err'd, as aged men will do; but by
And by we'll talk of that; and if we don't,
'Twill be because our notion is not high

Of politicians and their double front,
Who live by lies, yet dare not boldly lie:-
Now what I love in women is, they won't
Or can't do otherwise than lie, but do it
So well, the very truth seems falsehood to it.