The Works of Lord Byron Volume VI Part 90

'T was strange enough she should retain the impression Through such a scene of change, and dread, and slaughter; But though three Bishops told her the transgression, She showed a great dislike to holy water; She also had no pa.s.sion for confession; Perhaps she had nothing to confess:--no matter, Whate'er the cause, the Church made little of it-- She still held out that Mahomet was a prophet.

LVII.

In fact, the only Christian she could bear Was Juan; whom she seemed to have selected In place of what her home and friends once _were_.

_He_ naturally loved what he protected: And thus they formed a rather curious pair, A guardian green in years, a ward connected In neither clime, time, blood, with her defender; And yet this want of ties made theirs more tender.

LVIII.

They journeyed on through Poland and through Warsaw, Famous for mines of salt and yokes of iron: Through Courland also, which that famous farce saw Which gave her dukes the graceless name of "Biron."[547]

'T is the same landscape which the modern Mars saw, Who marched to Moscow, led by Fame, the Siren!

To lose by one month's frost some twenty years Of conquest, and his guard of Grenadiers.

LIX.

Let this not seem an anti-climax:--"Oh!

My guard! my old guard!"[548] exclaimed that G.o.d of clay.

Think of the Thunderer's falling down below Carotid-artery-cutting Castlereagh![kg]

Alas! that glory should be chilled by snow!

But should we wish to warm us on our way Through Poland, there is Kosciusko's name Might scatter fire through ice, like Hecla's flame.

LX.

From Poland they came on through Prussia Proper, And Konigsberg, the capital, whose vaunt, Besides some veins of iron, lead, or copper, Has lately been the great Professor Kant.[549]

Juan, who cared not a tobacco-stopper About philosophy, pursued his jaunt To Germany, whose somewhat tardy millions Have princes who spur more than their postilions.

LXI.

And thence through Berlin, Dresden, and the like, Until he reached the castellated Rhine:-- Ye glorious Gothic scenes! how much ye strike All phantasies, not even excepting mine!

A grey wall, a green ruin, rusty pike, Make my soul pa.s.s the equinoctial line Between the present and past worlds, and hover Upon their airy confines, half-seas-over.

LXII.

But Juan posted on through Mannheim, Bonn, Which Drachenfels[550] frowns over like a spectre Of the good feudal times for ever gone, On which I have not time just now to lecture.

From thence he was drawn onwards to Cologne, A city which presents to the inspector Eleven thousand maiden heads of bone.

The greatest number flesh hath ever known.[551]

LXIII.

From thence to Holland's Hague and Helvoetsluys, That water-land of Dutchmen and of ditches, Where juniper expresses its best juice, The poor man's sparkling subst.i.tute for riches.

Senates and sages have condemned its use-- But to deny the mob a cordial, which is Too often all the clothing, meat, or fuel, Good government has left them, seems but cruel.

LXIV.

Here he embarked, and with a flowing sail Went bounding for the Island of the free, Towards which the impatient wind blew half a gale; High dashed the spray, the bows dipped in the sea, And sea-sick pa.s.sengers turned somewhat pale; But Juan, seasoned, as he well might be, By former voyages, stood to watch the skiffs Which pa.s.sed, or catch the first glimpse of the cliffs.

LXV.

At length they rose, like a white wall along The blue sea's border; and Don Juan felt-- What even young strangers feel a little strong At the first sight of Albion's chalky belt--A kind of pride that he should be among Those haughty shopkeepers, who sternly dealt Their goods and edicts out from pole to pole, And made the very billows pay them toll.

LXVI.

I've no great cause to love that spot of earth, Which holds what _might have been_ the n.o.blest nation; But though I owe it little but my birth, I feel a mixed regret and veneration For its decaying fame and former worth.

Seven years (the usual term of transportation) Of absence lay one's old resentments level, When a man's country's going to the devil.

LXVII.

Alas! could she but fully, truly, know How her great name is now throughout abhorred; 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 Mankind, And now would chain them--to the very _mind_;--

LXVIII.

Would she be proud, or boast herself the free, Who is but first of slaves? The nations are In prison,--but the gaoler, 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.

LXIX.

Don Juan now saw Albion'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 pa.s.sengers are booties To those who upon land or water dwell; And last, not least, to strangers uninstructed, Thy long, long bills, whence nothing is deducted.

LXX.

Juan, though careless, young, and _magnifique_, And rich in rubles, diamonds, cash, and credit, Who did not limit much his bills per week, Yet stared at this a little, though he paid it,-- (His Maggior Duomo, a smart, subtle Greek, Before him summed the awful scroll and read it): But, doubtless, as the air--though seldom sunny-- Is free, the respiration's worth the money.

LXXI.

On with the horses! Off to Canterbury!

Tramp, tramp o'er pebble, and splash, splash through puddle; Hurrah! how swiftly speeds the post so merry!

Not like slow Germany, wherein they muddle Along the road,[552] as if they went to bury Their fare; and also pause besides, to fuddle With "schnapps"--sad dogs! whom "Hundsfot," or "Verflucter,"[553]

Affect no more than lightning a conductor.[kh]

LXXII.

Now there is nothing gives a man such spirits, Leavening his blood as cayenne doth a curry, As going at full speed--no matter where its Direction be, so 't is but in a hurry, And merely for the sake of its own merits; For the less cause there is for all this flurry, The greater is the pleasure in arriving At the great _end_ of travel--which is driving.

LXXIII.

They saw at Canterbury the cathedral; Black Edward's helm, and Becket's b.l.o.o.d.y stone, Were pointed out as usual by the bedral, In the same quaint, uninterested tone:-- There's glory again for you, gentle reader! All Ends in a rusty casque and dubious bone,[554]

Half-solved into these sodas or magnesias, Which form that bitter draught, the human species.

LXXIV.

The effect on Juan was of course sublime: He breathed a thousand Cressys, as he saw That casque, which never stooped except to Time.

Even the bold Churchman's tomb excited awe, Who died in the then great attempt to climb O'er Kings, who _now_ at least _must talk_ of Law Before they butcher. Little Leila gazed, And asked why such a structure had been raised:

LXXV.

And being told it was "G.o.d's House," she said He was well lodged, but only wondered how He suffered 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 Was bent with grief that Mahomet should resign A mosque so n.o.ble, flung like pearls to swine.

LXXVI.