"In other illustrious men you will observe that each possessed some one shining quality, which was the foundation of his fame: in Epaminondas, all the virtues are found united; force of body, eloquence of expression, vigour of mind, contempt of riches." DIOD. SIC. lib. xv.]

2 [Those persons who represent our statesmen as living and fattening upon the public spoil, must either be grossly ignorant, or wicked enough to employ arguments which they know to be false. The emoluments of office, almost in every department of the state, and especially in all the highest, are notoriously inadequate to the expenditure which the situation requires. Mr. Pitt, who was no gambler, no prodigal, and

XIII.

And thus Death laughs,—it is sad merriment,
But still it is so; and with such example
Why should not Life be equally content
With his superior, in a smile to trample
Upon the nothings which are daily spent

Like bubbles on an ocean much less ample
Than the eternal deluge, which devours
Suns as rays-worlds like atoms-years like hours?
XIV.

"To be, or not to be? that is the question,"

Says Shakspeare, who just now is much in fashion.

I am neither Alexander nor Hephæstion,

Nor ever had for abstract fame much passion; But would much rather have a sound digestion Than Buonaparte's cancer:-could I dash on Through fifty victories to shame or fame, Without a stomach-what were a good name?

XV.

"Oh dura ilia messorum!"3-"Oh

Ye rigid guts of reapers!" I translate For the great benefit of those who know

What indigestion is-that inward fate Which makes all Styx through one small liver flow. A peasant's sweat is worth his lord's estate: Let this one toil for bread-that rack for rent, He who sleeps best may be the most content.

XVI.

"To be, or not to be?"-Ere I decide,

I should be glad to know that which is being. "Tis true we speculate both far and wide,

And deem, because we see, we are all-seeing: For my part, I'll enlist on neither side,

Until I see both sides for once agreeing. For me, I sometimes think that life is death, Rather than life a mere affair of breath.

XVII.

"Que scais-je ? "4 was the motto of Montaigne, As also of the first academicians: That all is dubious which man may attain,

Was one of their most favourite positions. There's no such thing as certainty, that's plain As any of Mortality's conditions;

So little do we know what we're about in
This world, I doubt if doubt itself be doubting.

XVIII.

It is a pleasant voyage perhaps to float,
Like Pyrrho, on a sea of speculation;
But what if carrying sail capsize the boat?

Your wise men don't know much of navigation; And swimming long in the abyss of thought

Is apt to tire: a calm and shallow station [gathers Well nigh the shore, where one stoops down and Some pretty shell, is best for moderate bathers.

too much a man of business to have expensive habits of any kind, died in debt; and the nation discharged his debts, not less as a mark of respect, than as an act of justice. SOUTHEY.]

3 ["O, dura messorum ilia!" &c. - HoR.]

4 [See Biographie Universelle, tom. xix. p. 434.] [Pyrrho, the philosopher of Elis, was in continual suspense of judgment: he doubted of every thing; never made any conclusion; and when he had carefully examined a subject, and investigated all its points, he concluded by still doubting of its evidence.-AUL. GEL.]

CANTO IX.

XIX.

"But heaven," as Cassio says, "is above all-1 No more of this, then, let us pray!" We have Souls to save, since Eve's slip and Adam's fall,

Which tumbled all mankind into the grave,
Besides fish, beasts, and birds. "The sparrow's fall
Is special providence," though how it gave
Offence, we know not; probably it perch'd
Upon the tree which Eve so fondly search'd.
XX.

Oh! ye immortal Gods! what is theogony?
Oh! thou, too, mortal man! what is philanthropy?
Oh! world, which was and is, what is cosmogony?
Some people have accused me of misanthropy;
And yet I know no more than the mahogany

That forms this desk, of what they mean; lykan-
I comprehend, for without transformation
Men become wolves on any slight occasion.

XXI.

[thropy

;

That's an appropriate simile, that jackall;-
I've heard them in the Ephesian ruins howl
By night, as do that mercenary pack all,

Power's base purveyors, who for pickings prowl,
And scent the prey their masters would attack all.
However, the poor jackalls are less foul
(As being the brave lions keen providers)
Than human insects, catering for spiders.
XXVIII.

Raise but an arm! 't will brush their web away,
And without that, their poison and their claws
Are useless. Mind, good people! what I say -
(Or rather peoples)—go on without pause!
The web of these tarantulas each day

Increases, till you shall make common cause :
None, save the Spanish fly and Attic bee,
As yet are strongly stinging to be free.

Oh! ye great authors luminous, voluminous !
Ye twice ten hundred thousand daily scribes!
Whose pamphlets, volumes, newspapers, illumine us!
Whether you're paid by government in bribes,
To prove the public debt is not consuming us —
Or, roughly treading on the "courtier's kibes,"
With clownish heel 3, your popular circulation
Feeds you by printing half the realm's starvation;
XXXVI.

Oh, ye great authors! -"Apropos des bottes," -
I have forgotten what I meant to say,
As sometimes have been greater sages' lots;
"T was something calculated to allay
All wrath in barracks, palaces, or cots:

Certes it would have been but thrown away, And that's one comfort for my lost advice, Although no doubt it was beyond all price. XXXVII.

But let it go: it will one day be found
With other relics of " a former world,"
When this world shall be former, underground,

Thrown topsy-turvy, twisted, crisp'd, and curl'd,
Baked, fried, or burnt, turn'd inside-out, or drown'd,
Like all the worlds before, which have been hurl'd
First out of, and then back again to chaos,
The superstratum which will overlay us.
XXXVIII.

So Cuvier says; -and then shall come again
Unto the new creation, rising out
From our old crash, some mystic, ancient strain
Of things destroy'd and left in airy doubt;

He was killed in a conspiracy, after his temper had been exasperated by his extreme costívity to a degree of insanity. 2 ["One virtuous, or a mere good-natured deed, Does all desert in sciences exceed."- SHEFFIELD.] 3["The age is grown so picked, that the toe of the peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier, he galls his kibe."Hamlet.]

Like to the notions we now entertain

Of Titans, giants, fellows of about Some hundred feet in height, not to say miles, And mammoths, and your winged crocodiles.

XXXIX

Think if then George the Fourth should be dug up! How the new worldlings of the then new East

Will wonder where such animals could sup!

(For they themselves will be but of the least:
Even worlds miscarry, when too oft they pup,
And every new creation hath decreased
In size, from overworking the material —
Men are but maggots of some huge Earth's burial.)
XL.

How will to these young people, just thrust out
From some fresh Paradise, and set to plough,
And dig, and sweat, and turn themselves about,
And plant, and reap, and spin, and grind, and sow,
Till all the arts at length are brought about,

Especially of war and taxing—how,

I say, will these great relics, when they see 'em,
Look like the monsters of a new museum ?

1 He was the grande passion of the grande Catherine. See her Lives under the head of " Lanskoi."-[" Lanskoi was a youth of as fine and interesting a figure as the imagination can paint. Of all Catherine's favourites, he was the man whom she loved the most. His education having been neglected, she took the care of his improvement upon herself. In 1784, he was attacked with a fever, and perished in the flower of his age, in the arms of her majesty. When he was no more, Catherine gave herself up to the most poignant grief, and remained three months without going out of her

LVII.

Catherine, who was the grand epitome

Of that great cause of war, or peace, or what You please (it causes all the things which be,

So you may take your choice of this or that). Catherine, I say, was very glad to see

The handsome herald, on whose plumage sat Victory; and, pausing as she saw him kneel With his despatch, forgot to break the scal. 1 LVIII.

Then recollecting the whole empress, nor

Forgetting quite the woman (which composed
At least three parts of this great whole), she tore
The letter open with an air which posed
The court, that watch'd each look her visage wore,
Until a royal smile at length disclosed
Fair weather for the day. Though rather spacious,
Her face was noble, her eyes fine, mouth gracious. 2
LIX.

Great joy was hers, or rather joys: the first
Was a ta'en city, thirty thousand slain.
Glory and triumph o'er her aspect burst,

As an East Indian sunrise on the main.
These quench'd a moment her ambition's thirst
So Arab deserts drink in summer's rain :
In vain! As fall the dews on quenchless sands,
Blood only serves to wash Ambition's hands!
LX.

Her next amusement was more fanciful;

She smiled at mad Suwarrow's rhymes, who threw Into a Russian couplet rather dull

The whole gazette of thousands whom he slew. 3 Her third was feminine enough to annul

The shudder which runs naturally through

LXUL

With her the latter, though at times convenient,
Was not so necessary; for they tell [lenient,
That she was handsome, and though fierce look'd
And always used her favourites too well.

If once beyond her boudoir's precincts in ye went,
Your "fortune" was in a fair way" to swell
A man" (as Giles says); for though she would
Nations, she liked man as an individual. [widow all
LXIV.

What a strange thing is man! and what a stranger
Is woman! What a whirlwind is her head,

And what a whirlpool full of depth and danger
Is all the rest about her! Whether wed,
Or widow, maid, or mother, she can change her
Mind like the wind: whatever she has said
Or done, is light to what she 'll say or do ;-
The oldest thing on record, and yet new!
LXV.

Oh Catherine! (for of all interjections,

To thee both oh! and ah! belong of right
In love and war) how odd are the connections
Of human thoughts, which jostle in their flight!
Just now yours were cut out in different sections:
First Ismael's capture caught your fancy quite;
Next of new knights, the fresh and glorious batch:
And thirdly he who brought you the despatch !
LXVI.

Shakspeare talks of "the herald Mercury
New lighted on a heaven-kissing hill;" 5
And some such visions cross'd her majesty,
While her young herald knelt before her still.
'Tis very true the hill seem'd rather high,

For a lieutenant to climb up; but skill [blessing,

Though somewhat large, exuberant, and truculent, When wroth-while pleased, she was as fine a figure As those who like things rosy, ripe, and succulent, Would wish to look on, while they are in vigour. She could repay each amatory look you lent

With interest, and in turn was wont with rigour To exact of Cupid's bills the full amount At sight, nor would permit you to discount.

[The union of debauchery and ferocity which characterised Catherine, are admirably depicted in her manner of feeding her ambition with the perusal of the despatch, and gratifying her rising passion with the contemplation of Juan; who, in spite of the jealousy and murmurings of rival expectants and candidates, is fairly installed into the "high official situation" of Catherine's favourite.-CAMPBELL.]

2 ["Catherine had been handsome in her youth, and she preserved a gracefulness and majesty to the last period of her life. She was of a moderate stature, but well proportioned; and as she carried her head very high, she appeared rather tall. She had an open front, an aquiline nose, an agreeable mouth, and her chin, though long, was not misshapen. Her hair was auburn, her eyebrows black and rather thick, and her blue eyes had a gentleness which was often affected, but oftener still a mixture of pride. Her physiognomy was not deficient in expression; but this expression never discovered

With youth and health all kisses are “heaven-kissing.”
LXVII.

Her majesty look'd down, the youth look'd up—
And so they fell in love;-she with his face,
His grace, his God-knows-what: for Cupid's cup
With the first draught intoxicates apace,

A quintessential laudanum or “black drop,”

Which makes one drunk at once, without the base Expedient of full bumpers; for the eye In love drinks all life's fountains (save tears) dry. LXVIII.

He, on the other hand, if not in love,

Fell into that no less imperious passion, Self-love-which, when some sort of thing above Ourselves, a singer, dancer, much in fashion, Or duchess, princess, empress, "deigns to prove " 6 ('Tis Pope's phrase) a great longing, though a For one especial person out of many, [rash one, Makes us believe ourselves as good as any.

what was passing in the soul of Catherine, or rather it served her the better to disguise it."-TOOKE.]

3 ["Suwarrow is as singular for the brevity of his style as for the rapidity of his conquests. On the taking Tourtourkaya, in Bulgaria, he actually wrote no more to the empress than two lines of Russ poetry: