XXXV.

Perhaps from Horace: his " Nil admirari” (1)
Was what he call'd the " Art of Happiness;"
An art on which the artists greatly vary,

And have not yet attain'd to much success.
However, 't is expedient to be wary:
Indifference certes don't produce distress;
And rash enthusiasm in good society
Were nothing but a moral inebriety.

XXXVI.

But Adeline was not indifferent: for

(Now for a common-place !) beneath the snow, As a volcano holds the lava more

Within-et cætera. Shall I go on? No! I hate to hunt down a tired metaphor,

So let the often-used volcano go.

Poor thing! How frequently, by me and others,
It hath been stirr'd up till its smoke quite smothers!

XXXVII.

I'll have another figure in a trice:—

What say you to a bottle of champagne ? Frozen into a very vinous ice,

Which leaves few drops of that immortal rain, Yet in the very centre, past all price,

About a liquid glassful will remain ;

And this is stronger than the strongest grape
Could e'er express in its expanded shape:

(1) [See antè, Vol. XVI. p. 97.]

XXXVIII.

'Tis the whole spirit brought to a quintessence; And thus the chilliest aspects may concentre A hidden nectar under a cold presence.

And such are many-though I only meant her From whom I now deduce these moral lessons,

On which the Muse has always sought to enter. And your cold people are beyond all price, When once you have broken their confounded ice.

XXXIX.

But after all they are a North-West Passage
Unto the glowing India of the soul;
And as the good ships sent upon that message
Have not exactly ascertain'd the Pole
(Though Parry's efforts look a lucky presage),
Thus gentlemen may run upon a shoal;

For if the Pole's not open, but all frost
(A chance still), 'tis a voyage or vessel lost.

XL.

And young beginners may as well commence
With quiet cruising o'er the ocean woman;
While those who are not beginners should have sense
Enough to make for port, ere time shall summon
With his grey signal-flag; and the past tense,
The dreary" Fuimus” of all things human,
Must be declined, while life's thin thread's spun out
Between the gaping heir and gnawing gout.

XLI.

But heaven must be diverted; its diversion

Is sometimes truculent-but never mind:
The world upon the whole is worth the assertion
(If but for comfort) that all things are kind:
And that same devilish doctrine of the Persian, (')
Of the two principles, but leaves behind

As many doubts as any other doctrine
Has ever puzzled Faith withal, or yoked her in.

XLII.

The English winter-ending in July,

To recommence in August-now was done. 'Tis the postilion's paradise: wheels fly;

On roads, east, south, north, west, there is a run. But for post-horses who finds sympathy?

Man's pity's for himself, or for his son,

Always premising that said son at college

Has not contracted much more debt than knowledge.

(1) [The creed of Zoroaster, which naturally occurs to unassisted reason as a mode of accounting for the mingled existence of good and evil in the visible world, that belief which, in one modification or another, supposes the co-existence of a benevolent and malevolent principle, which contend, together without either being able decisively to prevail over his antagonist,leads the fear and awe deeply impressed on the human mind to the worship as well of the author of evil, so tremendous in all the effects of which credulity accounts him the primary cause, as to that of his great opponent, who is loved and adored as the father of all that is good and bountiful. Nay, such is the timid servility of human nature, that the worshippers will neglect the altar of the Author of good, rather than that of Arimanes ; trusting with indifference to the well-known mercy of the one, while they shrink from the idea of irritating the vengeful jealousy of the awful father of evil. - SIR WALTER SCOTT: Demonology, p. 88.]

XLIII.

The London winter's ended in July—
Sometimes a little later. I don't err
In this whatever other blunders lie
Upon my shoulders, here I must aver
My Muse a glass of weatherology;
For parliament is our barometer:
Let radicals its other acts attack,
Its sessions form our only almanack.

XLIV.

When its quicksilver's down at zero, — lo!
Coach, chariot, luggage, baggage, equipage!
Wheels whirl from Carlton palace to Soho,

And happiest they who horses can engage; The turnpikes glow with dust; and Rotten Row Sleeps from the chivalry of this bright age; And tradesmen, with long bills and longer faces, Sigh-as the postboys fasten on the traces.

XLV.

They and their bills, "Arcadians both,"(1) are left
To the Greek kalends of another session.
Alas! to them of ready cash bereft,

What hope remains? Of hope the full possession, Or generous draft, conceded as a gift,

At a long date-till they can get a fresh oneHawk'd about at a discount, small or large; Also the solace of an overcharge.

(1) "Arcades ambo."

XLVI.

But these are trifles.

Downward flies

my lord

Nodding beside my lady in his carriage. Away! away! "Fresh horses !" are the word,

And changed as quickly as hearts after marriage; The obsequious landlord hath the change restored; The postboys have no reason to disparage Their fee; but ere the water'd wheels may hiss hence, The ostler pleads too for a reminiscence.

XLVII.

'Tis granted; and the valet mounts the dickey-
That gentleman of lords and gentlemen;
Also my lady's gentlewoman, tricky,

Trick'd out, but modest more than poet's pen
Can paint," Cosi viaggino i Ricchi !” (1)
(Excuse a foreign slipslop now and then,

If but to show I've travell'd; and what's travel,
Unless it teaches one to quote and cavil?)

XLVIII.

The London winter and the country summer
Were well nigh over. 'Tis perhaps a pity,
When nature wears the gown that doth become her,
To lose those best months in a sweaty city,
And wait until the nightingale grows dumber,
Listening debates not very wise or witty,
Ere patriots their true country can remember;
But there's no shooting (save grouse) till September.

(1) [" Thus the rich travel."]