Of health but flicker'd with a faint reflection | While this high post of honour's in abeyance, Along his wasted cheek, and seem'd to gravel For one or two days, reader, we request The Faculty-who said that he must travel. You'll mount with our young hero the

Although('twill happen as our planet guides) | Think of the Thunderer's falling down
His youth was not the chastest that might be,
There was the purest platonism at bottom
Of all his feelings-only be forgot 'em.

And sea-sick passengers turn'd somewhat | And last,not least to strangers uninstructed, Thy long, long bills, whence nothing is deducted.

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.

Juan, though careless, young, and magni-
fique,

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

At length they rose, like a white wall along The blue sea's border; and Don Juan felt-Yet stared at this a little, though he paid it What even young strangers feel a little (His maggior-duomo, a smart, subtle Greek, strong Before him summ'd the awful scroll and At the first sight of Albion's chalky beltread it:) A kind of pride that he should be among Those haughty shop-keepers, who sternly dealt

Their goods and edicts out from pole to pole,
And made the very billows pay them toll.

I have no great cause to love that spot of earth,

Which holds what might have been the
noblest nation:

But, though I owe it little but my birth,
I feel a mix'd regret and veneration
For its decaying fame and former worth.
Seven years (the usual term of transport-
ation)

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

But doubtless as the air, though seldom
Is free, the respiration's worth the money.

sunny,

They saw at Canterbury the Cathedral; And now would chain them, to the very Black Edward's helm, and Becket's bloody

mankind,
mind;

Would she be proud, or boast herself the free,
Who is but first of slaves? The nations are
In prison; but the jailor, 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 sawAlbion'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 being told it was “God's house," she | O'er the high hill which looks with pride said

or scorn

spark in

Your veins of Cockney-spirit, smile or

He was well lodged, but only wonder'd how Toward the great city:-ye who have a
He suffer'd infidels in his homestead,
The cruel Nazarenes, who had laid low
His holy temples in the lands which bred
The true believers; and her infant brow According as you take things well or ill –
Was bent with grief that Mahomet should | Bold Britons, we are now on Shooter's Hill!
resign

A mosque so noble,flung like pearls to swine.

On, on! through meadows, managed like
a garden,

A paradise of hops and high production;
For, after years of travel by a bard in
Countries of greater heat but lesser suction,
A green field is a sight which makes him
pardon

The absence of that more sublime construc-
tion.
Which mixes up vines, olives, precipices,
Glaciers, volcanos, oranges, and ices.

And when I think upon a pot of beerBut I won't weep!—and so, drive on, postillions!

mourn,

The sun went down, the smoke rose up, as from

A half-unquench'd volcano, o'er a space
Which well beseem'd the "Devil's drawing-
room,"

As some have qualified that wondrous place.
But Juan felt, though not approaching home,
As one who, though he were not of the race,
Revered the soil, of those true sons the
mother,

Who butcher'd half the earth, and bullied
t'other.

A mighty mass of brick, and smoke, and shipping,

Dirty and dusky, but as wide as eye
Could reach, with here and there a sail
just skipping

As the smart boys spurr'd fast in their career,
Juan admired these highways of free mil-In sight, then lost amidst the forestry

lions;

A country in all senses the most dear
To foreigner or native, save some silly ones,
Who "kick against the pricks” just at this
juncture,

And for their pains get only a fresh puncture.

What a delightful thing's a turnpike-road!
So smooth, so level, such a mode of shaving
The earth, as scarce the eagle in the broad
Air can accomplish, with his wide wings
waving.

Had such been cut in Phaeton's time, the God
Had told his son to satisfy his craving
With the York mail;-but,onward as we roll,
“Surgit amari aliquid”—the toll!

Alas! how deeply painful is all payment!
Take lives, take wives, take aught except

men's purses.
As Machiavel shows those in purple raiment,
Such is the shortest way to general curses.
They hate a murderer much less than a
claimant
On that sweet ore which every body nurses;
Kill a man's family, and he may brook it—
But keep your hands out of his breeches'
pocket.

So said the Florentine: ye monarchs,hearken
To your instructor. Juan now was borne,
Just as the day began to wane and darken,

Of masts; a wilderness of steeples peeping
On tiptoe, through their sea-coal canopy;
A huge, dun cupola, like a foolscap crown
On a fool's head—and there is LondonTown!

But Juan saw not this: each wreath of smoke
Appear'd to him but as the magic vapour
Of some alchymic furnace, from whence
broke

The wealth of worlds (a wealth of tax and
paper):

The gloomy clouds, which o'er it as a yoke
Are bow'd, and put the sun out like a taper,
Were nothing but the natural atmosphere--
Extremely wholesome, though but rarely
clear.

He paused-and so will I; as doth a crew
Before they give their broadside. By and by,
My gentle countrymen, we will renew
Our old acquaintance; and at least I'll try
To tell you truths you will not take as true,
Because they are so :-a male Mrs. Fry,
With a soft besom will I sweep your halls,
And brush a web or two from off the walls.

Oh, Mrs. Fry! why go to Newgate? Why
Preach to poor rogues? And wherefore not
begin

With Carlton, or with other houses? Try
Your hand at harden'd and imperial sin.
To mend the people 's an absurdity,

(Not the most "dainty Ariel") and perplexes While every thing around was calm and